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€l)e €am6ritigc Cbition of tfjc ^octjtf 



POPE 



EDITED BY 

HENRY W. BOYNTON 




/A 



y^c- 



THE 

COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF 

ALEXANDER POPE 

Cambrttige Cnidon 




/^ //<^n^y^^/^j:t.ir}iSl0^/^^ 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 



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1 V- 



COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND CO. 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 






/ ^ 



EDITOR'S NOTE 

An attempt has been here made for the first time to include all of Pope's poetical 
work within tlie limits of a single volume ; and to print tlie poems in an approxi- 
mately chronological order. It has been often difficult, and sometimes impossible, 
to determine tlie exact date of a given poem ; and the known order of composition 
has been modified so far as to permit a method of grouping the shorter poems 
which has been followed in other volumes of this series. Only the twelve books of 
the Odyssey which were Pope's own work are here included, and all of the notes 
to Homer are omitted. Most of Pope's own notes to the poems have been retained, 
except in the case of certain notes on The Dunciad, which are so voluminous or so 
trivial as to find no proper place within the necessary limits of this edition. 

The allusions to Pope's contemporaries are so numerous, particularly in the 
Satires^ the Moral Essays^ and The Dunciad^ that it has seemed advisable to rid 
the main body of notes of such names as are of especial importance, or are fre- 
quently mentioned. The Glossary of Names will, it is hoped, prove useful in obvi- 
ating the necessity of cross-reference. 

The text is the result of collation, but is based upon that of the standard Croker- 
Elwin-Courthope edition. As to the details of capitalization and abbreviation, a 
uniform though necessarily somewhat arbitrary usage has been adopted. The 
study of facsimiles has shown that the poet himself employed capitals quite with- 
out method. They are here used only in cases of personification or of especially 
important substantives. As a result of his religious preservation of the decasyl- 
labic form of pentameter. Pope employed marks of abbreviation so profusely as often 
to produce a page distressing to the modern eye, and not really helpful to the 
modern ear. Many editors have therefore abandoned these marks altogether ; in 
this edition they have been retained wherever they did not appear likely to prove 
a stumbling-bloclc to the present generation. 

The usual indexes have been furnished, and a brief bibliographical note, which, 
while it does not pretend to exhaustiveness, may be of aid to the general reader. 

H. W. B. 

Andover, March, 1003. 



\ 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH . . . xi 

EARLY POEMS. 

Ode on Solitude .... 1 

A Paraphrase (On Thomas A. Kemfis, 

L. in. c. 2) 1 

To THE Author of a Poem en- 
titled SUCCESSIO .... 2 

The First Book of Statius's 
Thebais .... -2 

Imitations of English Poets. 

Chaucer 15 

Spenser: The Alley . .15 
Waller : On a Lady singing to 

Her Lute .... 16 
On a Fan of the Author's 

Design 16 

Cowley : The Garden . . 16 

Weeping 17 

Earl of Rochester : On Silence 17 

Earl of Dorset : Artemisia . 18 

Phryne .... 18 

Dr. Swift : The Happy Life of 

/ a Country Parson . . 18 

PASTORALS. 

Discourse on Pastoral Poetry 19 

I. Spring; or, Damon . . .21 

II. Summer; or, Alexis . . 23 

III. Autumn ; or, Hylas and 
^GON 24 

IV. Winter; or, Daphne . . 26 

WINDSOR FOREST .... 28 

PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER. 
January and May ; or, The Mer- 
chant's Tale 35 

The Wife of Bath ... 46 
The Temple of Fame . . .52 

TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID. 

Sappho to Phaon .... 60 
The Fable of Dryope . . .63 

Vertumnus and Pomona . . 65 

^AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM. 

Part 1 67 

Part II 70 

Part III 74 

POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1708 
AND 1712. 
Ode for Music on St. Cecilia's 

Day 78 

Argus 79 



The Balance of Europe . . 79 
The Translator • . • .80 
On Mrs. Tofts, a Famous Opera- 
Singer 80 

Epistle to Miss Blount, with the 

Works of Voiture . . .80 
The Dying Christian to His 

Soul 81 

Epistle to Mr. Jervas . . .82 
Impromptu to Lady Winchilsea 83 
Elegy to the Memory of an Un- 
fortunate Lady • . . .83 
/' Messiah 84 

^'tHE RAPE OF THE LOCK. 

Canto 1 89 

Canto II 90 

Canto III . 92 

Canto IV 95 

Canto V 97 

POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1713 
AND 1717. 
Prologue to Mr. Addison's Cato 100 
Epilogue to Mr. Rowe's Jane 

Shore 100 

To A Lady, with the Temple of 

Fame 101 

Upon the Duke of Marlborough's 

House at Woodstock . . . 101 
Lines to Lord Bathurst . . 102 

Macer 102 

Epistle to Mrs. Teresa Blount 102 
Lines occasioned by Some Verses 
OF His Grace the Duke of Buck- 
ingham 103 

A Farewell to London . . 103 
Imitation of Martial . . • 104 
Imitation of Tibullus . . . 104 
The Basset-Table . . . -104 
Epigrams on the Toasts of the 
Kit-Cat Club .... 106 

The Challenge 106 

The Looking-Glass . . .107 
Prologue designed for Mr. D'Ur- 

fey's Last Play .... 107 
Prologue to the Three Hours 

after Marriage .... 108 
Prayer of Brutus . . • .108 
To Lady Mary Wortley Mon- 
tagu 109 

Extemporaneous Lines : On a Por- 
trait OF Lady Mary Wortley 
Montagu, painted by Kneller . 109 

J:loisa to abelard . . .110 



Vlll 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1718 

AND 1727 115 

An Inscription upon a Punch- 
Bowl 115 

Epistle to James Ckagg, Esq. . 115 

A Dialogue 115 

Vekses to Mr. C 116 

To Mr. Gay 116 

On Drawings of the Statues of 

Apollo, Venus, and Hercules . 116 
Epistle to Robert, Earl of Ox- 
ford AND Mortimer . . . 116 
Two Choruses to the Tragedy of 
Brutus. 
Chorus of Athenians . . 117 
Chorus of Youths and Vir- 
gins 117 

To Mrs. M. B. on Her Birthday . 118 
Answer to the Following Ques- 
tion OF Mrs. Howe . . .118 
On a Certain Lady at Court . 118 
To Mr. John Moore . . .119 
The Curll Miscellanies. 

Umbra 119 

Bishop Hough . . . .119 
Sandys' Ghost .... 120 

Epitaph 121 

The Three Gentle Shepherds 121 
On the Countess of Burling- 
ton cutting Paper . . 121 
Epigram: An Empty House . 121 
Poems suggested by Gulliver. 

Ode to Quinbus Flestrin . 121 
The Lamentation of Glumdal- 

CLITCH for the LoSS OF GrIL- 
DRIG 122 

To Mr. Lemuel Gulliver . 123 
Mary Gulliver to Capt. Lem- 
uel Gulliver . . . 123 

LATER POEMS. 

On Certain Ladies . . . . 125 

Cellv 125 

Prologue (To a Play for Mr. Den- 
nis's Benefit) 125 

Song, by a Person of Quality . 126 
Verses left by Mr. Pope . . 126 
On His Grotto at Twickenham . 127 
On receiving from the Right 
Hon. the Lady Frances Shirley 
A Standish and Two Pens . . 127 
On Beaufort House Gate at Chis- 

wiCK 127 

To Mr. Thomas Southern * . 128 

Epigrams 128 

1740: A Poem 128 

POEMS OF UNCERTAIN DATE. 

To Erinna 130 

Lines written in Windsor Forest 130 
Verbatim from Boileau . . 130 
Lines on Swift's Ancestors . . 130 
On seeing the Ladies at Crux 
Easton walk in the Woods by 

the Grotto 131 

Inscription on a Grotto, the 
Work of Nine Ladies . . .131 



by Anony- 



132 

132 
132 
132 
132 
132 

132 
133 
133 



To THE Right Hon. the Earl of 
Oxford 131 

EPIGRAMS AND EPITAPHS. 

On a Picture of Queen Caroline 131 
Epigram engraved on the Collar 
OF A Dog which I gave to His 
Royal Highness .... 131 
Lines written in Evelyn's Book 

ON Coins 131 

From the Grub-Street Journal. 
I. Epigram 
II. Epigram . 

III. Mr. J. M. S[myth]e 

IV. Epigram 
V. Epigram 

VI. Epitaph . 
VII. A Question 

MOUS . 

VIII. Epigram . 
IX. Epigram 
Epitaphs. 

On Charles, Earl of Dorset . 133 
On Sir William Trumbull . 133 
On the Hon. Simon Harcourt 133 
On James Craggs, Esq. . . 134 
On Mr. Rowe . . . .134 
On Mrs. Corbet . . . 134 
On the Monument of the Hon. 

R. DiGBY AND OF HiS SiSTER 

Mary 

On Sir Godfrey Kneller 

On General Withers 

On Mr. Elijah Fenton . 

On Mr. Gay 

Intended for Sir Isaac New- 
ton 

On Dr. Francis Atterbury 

On Edmund, Duke of Bucking- 
ham 

For One who would not be 
BURIED IN Westminster Ab- 
bey 

Another on the Same . 

On Two Lovers struck Dead 
BY Lightning .... 

Epitaph 



134 
134 
135 
135 
135 

135 
135 

136 



136 
136 



136 
136 



AN ESSAY ON MAN. 

The Design 137 

Epistle I., Of the Nature and 
State of Man with Respect to 
the Universe .... 137 

Epistle II. Of the Nature and 
State of Man with Respect to 
Himself as an Individual . . 141 

Epistle III. Of the Nature and 
State of Man with Respect to 
Society 145 

Epistle IV. Of the Nature and 
State of Man with Respect to 
Happiness 150 

MORAL ESSAYS. 

Advertisement . . . .156 
Epistle I. Of the Knowledge and 
Characters of Men . . . 157 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



IX 



Epistle II. Of the Characters of 
Women 101 

Epistle III. Of the Use of Riches 1(55 

Epistle IV. Of the Use of 
Riches 170 

Epistle V. To Mr. Addison, occa- 
sioned BY His Dialogue on 
Medals 173 

Universal Prayer . . . 175 

SATIRES. 

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot . . 17G 
Satires, Epistles, and Odes of 
Horace imitated 

The First Satire of the Sec- 
ond Book of Horace . . 182 

The Second Satire of the 
Second Book of Horace . 184 

The First Epistle of the First 
Book of Horace . . . 187 

The Sixth Epistle of the First 
Book of Horace • . . 189 

The First Epistle of the Sec- 
ond Book of Horace . • 191 

The Second Epistle of the 
Second Book of Horace . 197 

Satires of Dr. John Donne, 
Dean of St. Paul's, versi- 
fied 202 

Epilogue to the Satires . . 208 

The Sixth Satire of the Sec- 
ond Book of Horace . . 214 

The Seventh Epistle of the 
First Book of Horace . . 216 

The First Ode of the Fourth 
Book of Horace . . . 217 

The Ninth Ode of the Fourth 
Book of Horace . . . 217 

THE DUNCIAD. 

Martinus Scriblerus of the 

Poem 218 

Preface 220 

A Letter to the Publisher . 221 
Advertisement to the First Edi- 
tion 224 

Advertisement to the First Edi- 
tion OF THE Fourth Book . 224 
Advertisement to the Complete 
Edition of 1743 .... 225 

Book 1 225 

Book II 230 

Book III 236 

Book IV 242 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 






The Iliad 




Pope's Preface 


. 251 


/ Book I. . 


, 






. 261 


Book II. . 














. 272 


Book III. 














. 286 


Book IV. . 














. 295 


Book V. 














. 306 


Book VI. . 














. 322 


Book VII. 














. 332 


Book VIII. 














. 341 


Book IX. 














. 352 


Book X. . 














. 364 


Book XL 














. 373 


Book XII. . 














388 


Book XIII. 














. 396 


Book XIV. 














411 


Book XV. 














. 420 


Book XVI. 














433 


Book XVII. 














. 448 


Book XVIII. 














461 


Book XIX. 














. 471 


Book XX. . 














477 


Book XXL 














. 486 


Book XXII. 












496 


Book XXIII. 












. 505 


Book XXIV. . 








520 


Pope's Concluding . 


N'OTF 






. 534 


The Odyssey. 










Book III. . 








535 


Book V. 








. 544 


Book VII. . 


, 












553 


Book IX. 














. 559 


Book X. . 


. 












568 


Book XIII. 














. 578 


Book XIV. 


, 












585 


Book XV. . 














. 594 


Book XVII. 














602 


Book XXI. . 














. 612 


Book XXII. 












618 


Book XXIV. 












. 626 


Postscript by Pope 






635 


APPENDIX. 


Glossary 643 


Notes and Illustrations . . 647 


Bibliographical Note . . . 666 


INDEX OF FIRST LINES . . . 667 


INDEX OF TITLES 


, 












. 670 



Note. The photo^avure frontispiece is from a portrait painted by Richardson at Twicken- 
ham, where the artist, at Pope's request, was painting a portrait of his mother. Mr. James T. 
Fields bought the picture at the sale of the Marquess of Hastings's gallery, and it is now in the 
possession of Mrs. Fields, by whose courtesy it is reproduced. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

Alexander Pope was born in London, May 21, 1688. We cannot be sure of any- 
thing better than respectability in his ancestry, though late in life he himself claimed 
kinship with the Earls of Downe. His paternal grandfather is supposed to have been a 
clergyman of the Church of England. His mother, Edith Turner, came of a family of 
small gentry and landowners in Yorkshire. Alexander Pope, senior, was a successful 
linen merchant in London; so successful that he found it possible to retire early from 
business, and to buy a small estate at Binfield, on the edge of Windsor forest. To this 
estate, in Pope's twelfth year, the family removed from Kensington, and here they lived 
for sixteen years. In 1716 they removed to Chiswick, where a year later the father 
died. Soon afterwards Pope, then a man of note, leased the estate at Twickenham, on 
which he was to live till his death, in 1744. 

The circumstances of Pope's early life were in many ways peculiar. One of the main 
reasons for the choice of Binfield was that a number of Roman Catholic families lived in 
that neighborhood. They formed a little set sufficiently agreeable for social purposes, 
though not offering much intellectual stimulus to such a mind as Pope's very early showed 
itself to be. But if to be a Roman Catholic in England then meant to move in a narrow 
social circle, it carried with it also more serious limitations. It debarred from public 
school and university; so that beyond the inferior instruction afforded by the small Cath- 
olic schools which he attended till his twelfth year, Pope had no formal education. Two 
or three facts recorded of this school experience are worthy of mention : that he was 
taught the rudiments of Latin and Greek together, according to the Jesuit method; 
that he left one school in consequence of a flogging which he had earned by satirizing 
the head master; and that at about the age of ten he built a tragedy on the basis 
of Ogilvy's translation of Homer. At twelve he had at least learned the rudiments of 
Greek, and could read Latin fluently, if not correctly. So far as his failings in scholar- 
ship are concerned, Pope's lack of formal education has probably been made too much of. 
He had no bent for accurate scholarship, nor was breadth and accuracy of scholarship an 
accomplishment of that age. Addison, whose literary career was preceded by a long 
period of university residence, knew very little of Greek literature, and had a by no 
means wide acquaintance with the literature of Rome. Yet scholarship in those days 
meant classical learning. 

Pope might no doubt have profited by the discipline of a regular academic career. He 
needed, as Mr. Courthope says, ' training in thought rather than in taste, which he had 
by nature.' But such a mind as his is not likely to submit itself readily to rigid pro- 
cesses of thought. It is impossible not to see, at least, that the boy Pope knew how to 
read, if not how to study ; and that what Latin and Greek he read was approached as lit- 
erature, — a method more common then than now, it is probable. ' When I had done with 
my priests,' he wrote to Spence, * I took to reading by myself, for which I had a very 
great eagerness and enthusiasm, especially for poetry; and in a very few years I had 
dipped into a great number of English, French, Italian, Latin, and Greek poets. This I 
did without any design but that of pleasing myself, and got the language by hunting 



xii ALEXANDER POPE 



after the stories in the several authors I read : rather than read the books to get the lan- 
guage.' Virgil and Statius were his favorite Latin poets at this time, as is attested not 
only by the Pastorals and the early translations of the Thebais, but by the innumerable 
reminiscences, or * imitations,' as Pope called them, which may be traced in his later work. 
In the meantime, as a more important result of his having to rely so much upon his 
own resources, his creative power was beginning to manifest itself with singular matu- 
rity. At twelve he wrote couplets which were long afterwards inserted without change 
in the Essay on Criticism, and even in The Dunciad. The Pastorals, composed at sixteen, 
though conventional in conception and not seldom mechanical in execution, contain pas- 
sages in the poet's ripest manner. With the Essay on Criticism, published five years 
later. Pope reached his full power. Such development as is to be found in his later 
work is the result of an increase in mental breadth and satirical force. His style was 
already formed. 

Whatever may have been the importance, for good and ill, of Pope's early method of 
education, a far more potent factor in determining the conduct of his life and the nature of 
his work lay in his bodily limitations. The tradition that in his childhood he was physi- 
cally normal is made dubious by the reported fact that his father was also small and 
crooked, though organically sound. At all events, the Pope whom the world knew was 
anything but normal, — stunted to dwarfishness, thin to emaciation, crooked and feeble, 
so that he had to wear stays and padding, and all his life subject to severe bodily pain. 
Pope's relations with other men were seriously affected by this condition. Masculine society 
in eighteenth-century England had little place for weaklings. The late hours and heavy 
drinking of London were as little possible for the delicate constitution of Pope as the 
hard riding and heavy drinking of the country gentlemen with whom he was thrown at 
Binfield. In a letter from Binfield in 1710 Pope writes : * I assure you I am looked 
upon in the neighborhood for a very sober and well-disposed person, no great hunter, 
indeed, but a great esteemer of the noble sport, and only unhappy in my want of consti- 
tution for that and drinking.' It is a misconception of Pope's character to suppose him 
lacking in a natural robustness of temper to which only his physical limitations denied 
outlet. Before reaching manhood he had been given more than one rude lesson in dis- 
cretion. At one time over-confinement to his books had so much reduced his vitality 
as to convince him that he had not long to live. A fortunate chance put his case into the 
hands of a famous London physician, who prescribed a strict diet, little study, and much 
horseback riding. Pope followed the advice, recovered, and thereafter, for the most 
part, took excellent care of himself; it was the price which he had to pay for living. 
One unfortunate result was that he was thrown back upon the companionship of women, 
always petted, always deferred to, always nursed. Such conditions naturally developed 
the acid cleverness, the nervous brilliancy of the poet Pope ; and it is matter of great 
wonder that from such conditions anything stronger should survive; that there is, when 
all is said, so much virility and restraint in the best of his work. 

The Pastorals, Pope's first considerable poetical achievement, were according to the 
poet written in 1704, at the age of sixteen. They were, like all modern pastorals, con- 
ventional ; but they contain some genuine poetry, and are wonderful exercises in versifica- 
tion. Their diction is often artificial to the point of absurdity, but now and then possesses 
a stately grace, as in the famous lines : — 



* Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade ; 
Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade; 
Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise, 
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.' 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xiii 

Pope had probably been encouraged to write the Pastorals by Sir William Trumbull, to 
whom the first of them is inscribed. (Trumbull was a man of Oxford training, who after 
a distinguished diplomatic career had come to end his life upon his estate near Binfield, 
and who had been drawn to the deformed boy by the discovery of their common taste for 
the classics. For some time before the publication of the Pastorals the manuscript was 
being circulated privately among such men of established literary reputation as Garth, 
Walsh, Congreve, and Wycherley, and such patrons of letters as George Granville, Hali- 
fax, and Somers. To Walsh in particular Pope afterward expressed his obligation. ' He 
used to encourage me much,' we read in a letter to Spence, written long after, * and used 
to tell me there was one way left of excelling : for though we had several great poets, we 
never had any one great poet that was correct; and he desired me to make that my study 
and aim.* The dictum has become famous, but though Walsh probably meant, by ' correct- 
ness,* justice of taste as well as measured accuracy of poetic style, his over-praise of the 
Pastorals leads us to think that form was the main thing in his mind. If Pope's statement 
of the date at which the Pastorals were written is reliable, however (and we must keep 
in mind from the outset the fact that, as Mr. Courthope says, Pope in mature life 
' systematically antedated his compositions in order to obtain credit for precocity '), he 
did not become acquainted with Walsh until some time after they were written. The 
critic's advice, therefore, amounted simply to an encouragement in pursuing the method 
which Pope had already adopted : in employing a more rigid metrical scheme than any 
previous poet, even Sandys or Dryden, had attempted. The bookseller Jacob Touson 
was shown the manuscript, and offered to publish it ; and in 1709 it appeared in 
Tonson's Sixth Miscellany. 

Through Walsh Pope became acquainted with Wycherley, who introduced the young 
poet to literary society in London ; that is, to the society of the London coffee-houses. 
The character of the older resorts had already begun to change. Even Will's had ceased 
to be the purely literary club of Dryden's day. > It was natural that the age of Anne, in 
which increasing public honors were paid to literary men, should have been also an age 
in which literary men took an increasing interest in politics. At about the time when 
Pope first came up to London, Whig and Tory were beginning to edge away from each 
other; and though Will's for a time remained a sort of neutral ground, the old hearty 
interchange of thought and companionship was no longer possible. Part-political, part- 
literary clubs, like the Kitcat, the October Club, and the Scriblerus Club, sapped the 
strength of the older and freer institution ; and its doom was sealed when in 1712 Ad- 
dison established at Button's a resort for literary Whigs. 

^ During his first years of London experience. Pope probably knew Richard Steele more 
intimately than any one else. They had met at Will's, and througlPSteele Pope had 
been presented to Addison, and had later become a frequenter of Button's. It was Steele 
who urged Pope to write the Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, who got his Messiah published in 
The Spectator and printed various short papers of his in The Guardian. Another Whig 
friend was Jervas the painter, a pupil of Kneller, but an artist of no very considerable 
achievement. The poet at one time had some lessons in painting from him, and always 
held him in esteem. So far Pope allowed himself to associate with the Whigs; but he had 
no intention of taking rank as a Whig partisan. If lie wrote prose for Whig journals, it was 
in honor of the Tory government that the conclusion was added to Windsor Forest in 1713. 
To Swift's admiration for this poem, Pope owed the beginning of his life-long friendship 
with the Dean; but it was a friendship which committed him no more to Toryism than 
Addison's had to Whiggery, ' As old Dryden said before me,' he wrote in 1713, ' it is not 



xiv ALEXANDER POPE 



the violent I desire to please; and in very truth, I believe they will all find me, at long 
run, a mere Papist.' One amusing fact about Pope's early experience at Button's is that he 
is known to have commended the verses of Addison's satellites, Budgell and Tickell and 
Philips, whom later he was to attack so bitterly. The first cause of offence was not long in 
coming; and an offence sown in the mind of Pope was certain to grow very fast and to live 
very long.\The story of Pope's falling out with Addison and his friends is the story of the 
first of a long series of personal enmities which embittered Pope's life, and, it is too clear, 
impoverished his work. 

The Pastorals were published by Tonson at the end of a volume which opened with 
some exercises in the same kind of verse by Ambrose Philips. Pope was disposed to 
commend the work of Philips, even going so far as to say that ' there were no better 
eclogues in the language.' His ardor was somewhat cooled when The Spectator, in a 
paper which was unmistakably Addison's, printed an extended comparison of his work and 
Philips's, considerably to the advantage of the latter; and was converted into a cold rage 
by the fact that presently the position taken by The Spectator was expanded in five 
papers in The Guardian. The subtlety and ingenuity of Pope's method of retort was an 
interesting indication of the disingenuousness which became a settled quality of his prose 
writing. AVhatever his poetry may not have been, it was certainly downright; but his 
method of getting it before the public, of annotating it, and of reinforcing its thought, was 
habitually circuitous and not seldom dishonest. Pope promptly wrote a sixth paper to 
The Guardian, ostensibly keeping to Tickell's argument, but really speaking in irony 
from beginning to end, picking out the weakest points in Philips's style and matter, and 
damning them by fulsome praise. Steele, it is said, was so far deceived as to print the 
paper in good faith. Pope's revenge among the wits was complete; but he never for- 
got a score by paying it. In the Satires and The Dunciad, poor namby-pamby Philips 
comes up again and again for a punishment to which, in recompense, he now owes his 
fame. 

Pope's attitude toward Addison is a more serious matter to the critic. Up to the year 
1714 Pope, whatever irritation he may have felt toward Addison, had chosen to * take it 
out of ' the followers of the great man rather than out of the great man himself. The 
insertion of the Tory passage in Windsor Forest might have been taken as a direct chal- 
lenge to the Whig champion, whose fajiious celebration of the Whig victory at Blen- 
heim had been so popular. That his relations with Addison were not affected by it is 
shown by his supplying a prologue for Cato, which was produced within a month of the 
publication of Windsor Forest. Cato itself was to supply the real bone of contention. 
It was attacked by the veteran critic John Dennis, against whose strictures Pope under- 
took to take up the cudgels, in an anonymous Narrative of Dr. Rohert Norris on the 
Frenzy of J. D. It is uncertain whether Addison suspected that Pope was its author, 
and that his championship was inspired by the desire for personal revenge for Dennis's 
treatment of the Essay on Criticism ; but he disclaimed responsibility for the rejoinder 
in a letter written for him to the publisher by Steele. The result was a resentment 
which bore its final fruit in the lines on Atticus in the Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Addison, 
it must be noticed, had warmly praised the Essay on Criticism (1711), and the simpler 
version of The Rape of the Lock, published a year later ; but the publication of Tickell's 
version of the first book of the Iliad simultaneously with Pope's first volume, and 
Addison's preference of the weaker version, does not leave the latter quite free from 
suspicion of parti pris. 

Whatever may have been the rights of the difficulty between Addison and Pope, there 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xv 

is uo doubt that in one point, evidently a mere point of judgment, Addison was wrong. 
After pronouncing the first version of The Rape of the Lock, published in 1712, * a deli- 
cious little thing, and merum sal,' he advised against Pope's plan for expanding it. With- 
out the additions which the author made, in spite of this advice, it would hardly stand, 
as it now does, an acknowledged masterpiece in its kind. Despite the apparently local 
and temporary nature of its theme, the poem attracted much greater attention when, in 
1714, it appeared in the new form. The poem affords the purest expression of Pope's 
genius: his imagination applied without strain to a theme with which it was exactly 
fitted to cope, his satirical power exercised without the goad of personal rancor, and his 
light and elegant versification unhampered by the fancied necessity for weightiness. 
Nothing more just has been said about the poem than this by Hazlitt (On Dry den and 
Pope) : ' It is the most exquisite specimen oijiligree work ever invented. It is as admir- 
able in proportion as it is made of nothing : — 

" More subtle web Arachne cannot spin, 
Nor the fine nets, which oft we woven see 
Of scorched dew, do not in th' air more lightly flee." 

It is made of gauze and silver spangles. The most glittering appearance is given to 
everything, — to paste, pomatum, billet-doux, and patches. Airs, languid airs, breathe 
around ; the atmosphere is perfumed with affectation. A toilette is described with the 
solemnity of an altar raised to the Goddess of Vanity, and the history of a silver bodkin 
is given with all the pomp of heraldry. No pains are spared, no profusion of ornaments, 
no splendor of poetic diction, to set off the meanest things. The balance between the 
concealed irony and the assumed gravity is as nicely trimmed as the balance of power in 
Europe. The little is made great, and the great little. You hardly know whether to 
laugh or weep. It is the triumph of • insignificance, the apotheosis of foppery and folly. 
It is the perfection of the mock-heroic' 

If The Rape of the Lock was Pope's masterpiece in the field of impersonal satire, the 
Essay on Criticism, which belongs to the same period of the poet's life, was his master- 
piece in the realm of poetic generalization. It was, according to the account of the poet, 
composed in 1709 and published in 1711. The present editor is inclined to think that 
justice has never been done to this extraordinary work, either as a product of precocity, 
or in its own right. It is, in his opinion, not only a manual of criticism, to which the 
practitioner may apply for sound guidance upon almost any given point, but an exhaus- 
tive satire upon false methods of criticism. It is a compendious rule of criticism which 
works both ways ; hardly less rigorous than Aristotle, hardly less catholic than Sainte- 
Beuve. It does not, as has been alleged, constitute a mere helter-skelter summary of 
critical platitudes: there is hardly a predicament in modern criticism from which it does 
not suggest an adequate means of extrication. At all events, it represented, as Mr. 
Courthope says, the * first attempt to trace for English readers the just boundaries of taste.' 

The Essay on Criticism was not, like The Rape of the Lock, devoid of the note of per- 
sonal enmity which was to mark so much of the poet's later work. John Dennis had 
probably employed his slashing method in reviewing the Pastorals, and in the Essay 
Pope took occasion for revenge in the lines on Appius, which unmistakably applied to 
the author of Appius and Virginia ; and which after Dennis's rejoinder were to be fol- 
lowed up by the attacks in the Satires and The Dunciad. 

With the accession of the house of Hanover in 1714 the literary situation in London 
was considerably modified. The common ground upon which Whigs and Tories had, 



xvi ALEXANDER POPE 



with diminishing success, continued to associate, was taken from under their feet. Poli- 
tics became the first issue, and literature was relegated to a subordinate position. For- 
tunately the list of subscribers to Pope's translation of the Iliad had been made up before 
the death of Anne. During the few years in which the process of public readjustment 
absorbed the attention of London, Pope was hard at work upon the most exacting task 
he had yet undertaken. 

The removal of the family from Binfield to Chiswick was made by Pope's desire. He 
was now not only a famous author, but a man of fashion ; and on both accounts he wished 
to be nearer London. In leaving the coffee-house society — of which, in truth, he had 
never been a full member — he had found entrance into * aristocratic circles ; ' and we 
hear much in his letters from this time on of the noblemen whose hospitality he accepted, 
while standing clear of their direct patronage. At Chiswick he found more society and 
less leisure. Many times during the next few years he accuses himself of laziness, but 
it does not appear that his mild junketings with the nobilities gave him more relaxation 
from the toil of his Homer translation than he needed. The first books of the Iliad were 
published in 1715, and the last books of the Odyssey in 1723. The cripple and man of 
the world who could do that in the intervals of his house parties and his sieges of physi- 
cal pain was certainly producing his full share of work. 

The Iliad was hailed with applause on all sides, and handsomely paid for. It was in 
one way a task for which the translator would appear to have been quite unfitted. The 
Rape of the Lock had proved him the mouthpiece of a conventional and sophisticated age ; 
and conventionality and sophistication are not qualities to go naturally with Homer. 
The elegance of Pope's verse becomes at times a mincing neatness, and his fashionable 
poetic diction in the mouths of Hector and Achilles rings thin and metallic. But though 
Pope inevitably missed the simplicity and the hearty surge and swing of Homer, he did 
manage to retain something of his vigor; and his Iliad is still the classic English version. 
Only half of the Odyssey translation which followed was really the work of Pope, and 
even his own part was deficient in the spirit which had marked the first translation. It 
had indeed been undertaken from a very different motive: he could not hope to add 
greatly to the credit which his Iliad had gained for him, but the cash might readily be 
increased. The translator actually received nearly £9000 for both translations — a small 
fortune in those days. Pope's relations with his collaborators in the affair of the Odyssey 
are to be noticed, though they have perhaps been too much dwelt upon by the commenta- 
tors. The facts are briefly these: Fenton translated four books and Broome eight. Both 
were Cambridge men of parts, Fenton the more brilliant and Broome the more thorough. 
The latter furnished also all the notes. Pope paid them a very small price for their 
labor, though not less than they had bargained for, and gave them very little credit for 
it. Moreover, when he found that there was some stir against him for advertising an 
Odyssey which was to be his only in part, he induced Broome to write a postscript note 
claiming only three books for his own share and two for Fenton's, and insisting that 
whatever merit they might have was due to Pope's minute revision. 

Before attempting the Odyssey, Pope was unfortunately led to prepare an edition of 
Shakespeare, which showed some ingenuity in textual emendation. Phrases were, how- 
ever, too frequently altered as * vulgar,' and metres as * incorrect.' The work was on 
the whole so mediocre as fairly to lay itself open to the strictures of Theobald, who was 
consequently made the original hero of The Dunciad. In 1718 the poet leased the estate 
at Twickenham, and set to work upon the improvements which became a hobby. He 
had planned to build a town house, but was fortunately dissuaded. The laying out of 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xvii 

the tiny five acres of grounds is now a matter of history: the paths, the wilderness, the 
quincunx, the obelisk to his mother's memory, above all the grotto, — they are more like 
actors than stage properties in the quiet drama of Pope's later years. 

His work after the completion of the Homer translation was almost entirely restricted 
to satire. Even the Moral Essays are largely satirical, for Pope's didacticism was always 
tinged with laughter. It was too seldom a kindly laughter. His capacity for personal 
hatred was suffered not only to remain, but to grow upon him; until it became at length 
one of the ruling motives of his literary life. His first conception of The Dunciad was 
formed as early as 1720. Sometime within the five years following he seems to have 
broached his project for wholesale revenge to Swift, who, oddly enough, dissuaded him : 
' Take care the bad poets do not outwit you,* he wrote, * as they have the good ones in 
every age, whom they have provoked to transmit their names to posterity. Maevius is as 
well known as Virgil, and Gildon will be as well known as you if his name gets into your 
verses.' Thereto Pope dutifully assents: *I am much happier for finding our judg- 
ments jump in the notion that all scribblers should be passed by in silence. ... So let 
Gildon and Philips rest in peace.' It is not many years later that we find Swift encour- 
aging Pope to go on with The Dunciad, and Pope accepting the advice with an even 
better grace than in the former instance. The first judgment of both authors was 
of course the right one. The Dunciad, with all its cleverness, remains the record of a 
strife between persons whom we do not now care about. It has no determinable signifi- 
cance beyond that; it lacks the didactic soundness of his Essay on Criticism, and the 
graceful lightness of The Rape of the Lock. Only in a few detached passages in the Moral 
Essays and Satires, indeed, did he ever succeed in approaching either of these qualities. 

'Pope's writings,' says Mr. Courthope, * fall naturally into two classes: those which 
were inspired by fancy or reflection, and those which grew from personal feeling or cir- 
cumstance.' The Moral Essays belonged to the former of these classes, the Satires to the 
latter. The Moral Essays, and more particularly the Essay on Man, are the product of a 
materialism which marked the age, and which was set before Pope in something like 
systematic form by Bolingbroke. As Bolingbroke was primarily a politician, and dab- 
bled in philosophy only because the favorite game was for a great part of his life denied 
him, it could not be expected that much more than shallow generalization would come 
out of him. At all events, his system of sophistry was all that Pope needed for a 
thread upon which to string his couplets. Whatever we may think of the Essay on Man 
now, we need not forget that so keen a critic as Voltaire once called it ' the most beau- 
tiful, the most awful, the most sublime didactic poem that has ever been written in any 
language.' Even in our day a conservative critic can say of it : * Form and art triumph 
even in the midst of error ; a framework of fallacious generalization gives coherence to 
the epigrammatic statement of a multitude of individual truths.' 

Some of the difficulty that we have found in The Dunciad is present in the Satires. 
They are full of personalities. As a rule, however, the persons hit off are of some 
account, both in themselves and as types, rather than as mere objects of private rancor. 
Altogether these poems contain, besides the famous portraits of contemporaries, many 
passages of universal application to the virtues and the shortcomings of any practical age. 

With the completion of the Satires in 1738, Pope's work was practically done. His 
remaining years were to be spent mainly in revising his works and correspondence; the 
final additions and alterations to The Dunciad being the only task of special importance 
which in his weakening health, and decreasing creative impulse, he was able to under- 
take. The range of the poet's possible achievement was never very great; and he had 



xviii ALEXANDER POPE 



now lost most of the living motives of his work. He had numbered among his acquaint- 
ances all the prominent men of the time ; and not a few of them had been friends upon 
whom he depended for encouragement and companionship. Gay had died in 1732, 
Pope's mother a year later, and Arbuthnot in 1735. Swift was meantime rapidly break- 
ing up in mind and body, and by 1740 Pope was separated from him by a chasm as 
impassable as that of death. Bolingbroke remained to him, and he was to have one 
other friend, Warburton, upon whom he relied for advice and aid during his last years, 
and who became his literary executor. These, however, were friendships of the mind 
rather than of the heart ; and there is something a little pathetic in the spectacle of the 
still brilliant poet's dependence upon the chill and disappointed politician Bolingbroke 
and the worthy and adoring Bishop Warburton, who can hardly have been a lively com- 
panion. 

Critics are now fairly well agreed as to Pope's service to English poetry. Intellectu- 
ally he was clever rather than profound, and, in consequence, though so much of his work 
was of the didactic type, he made few original contributions to poetic thought. A poem 
of Pope's is a collection of brilliant fragments. He kept a note-book full of clever di- 
stiches set down at random; presently so many couplets are taken and classified, others 
are added, a title is found, and the world applauds. If we except The Rape of the Lock, 
and possibly the Epistle to Arbuthnot, none of his poems can be called organic in structure. 
The patching is neatly done, but the result is patchwork. The Essay on Man, therefore, 
which most of his contemporaries considered his greatest work, appears to us a mosaic of 
cleverly phrased platitudes and epigrams. Many of the couplets have become proverb- 
ial ; the work as a whole cannot be taken seriously. * But the supposition is,' says Low- 
ell, ' that in the Essay on Man Pope did not himself know what he was writing. He was 
only the condenser and epigrammatizer of Bolingbroke — a very fitting St. John for such 
a gospel.' It is to another and less pretentious sort of work that we must turn to find 
the great versifier at his best. 

^ The Rape of the Lock affords exactly the field in which Pope was fitted to excel. The 
very qualities of artificiality and sophistication which mar the Homer translations make 
the story of Belinda and her Baron a perfect thing of its kind. Here is the conven- 
tional society which Pope knew, and with which — however he might sneer at it — he 
really sympathized. The polished trivialities, the shallow gallantry, the hardly veiled 
coarseness of the London which Pope understood, are here to the life. Depth of emo- 
tion, of imagination, of thought, are absent, and properly so; but here are present in 
their purest forms the flashing wit, the ingenious fancy, the malicious innuendo, of which 
Pope was undoubtedly master. 

In versification his merit is to have done one thing incomparably well. Not only is his 
latest work marked by the same wit, conciseness, and brilliancy of finish which gained 
the attention of his earliest critics, but it employs the same metrical form which in boy- 
hood he had brought to a singular perfection. The heroic couplet is now pretty much 
out of fashion: ' correctness' is no longer the first quality which we demand of poetry. 
No doubt we are fortunate to have escaped the trammels of the rigid mode which so long 
restrained the flight of English verse. But however tedious and wooden Pope's instru- 
ment may have become in later hands, however mistaken he himself may have been in 
emphasizing its limitations, there is no doubt that it was the instrument best suited 
to his hand, and that he secured by means of it a surprising variety of effect. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH xix 

We have chronicled thus far a few of the facts of Pope's life and work. Something — 
it cannot be very much — remains to be said of his private character. It was a charac- 
ter of marked contradictions, the nether side of which — the weaknesses and positive faults 
— has, as is common in such cases, been laid bare with sufficient pitilessness. He was, 
we are told, malicious, penurious, secretive, unchivalrous, underhanded, implacable. He 
could address Lady Mary Wortley one day with fulsome adulation, and the next — and 
ever after — with foul abuse. He could deliberately goad his dunces to self-betrayal by 
his Treatise on the Bathos, and presently flay them in The Dunciad by way of revenge. 
He could by circuitous means cause his letters — letters carefully edited by him — to be 
published, and prosecute the publisher for outraging his sensibilities. He could stoop to 
compassing the most minute ends of private malice by the most elaborate and leisurely 
methods. He played life as a game composed of a series of petty moves, and, as one of 
his friends said, * could hardly drink a cup of tea without a stratagem.' 

But let us see what we might be fairly saying on the other side. If he was capable of 
malice, he was incapable of flattery; if he was dishonest in the little matters, he was hon- 
est in the great ones; if he held mediocrity in contempt, he had an ungrudging welcome 
for excellence. In later life he had encouragement for the younger generation of writ- 
ers, — Johnson, Young, Thomson, and poor Savage. If he allowed a fancied injury to 
separate him from Addison, he had still to boast of the friendship of men like Gay, Arbuth- 
not, and Swift; and they had to boast of his. He nursed his mother in extreme old age 
with anxious devotion, and mourned her death with unaffected grief. In his best satiri- 
cal mood, the best in English verse, he did not hesitate to arraign the highest as well 
as the lowest; not even Swift could be so fearless. Such things are to be remembered 
of this correct versifier and merciless satirist Pope: that with only half the body, and 
hardly more than half the bodily experience, of a man, he had his full share of a man's 
failings and a man's virtues; and that the failings were on the whole upon a less signifi- 
cant plane than the virtues. 

Much has been written of Pope's attitude toward women, and much has been written 
of his acrid habit of mind. The relation between these facts has been, perhaps, insuffi- 
ciently grasped. Pope was not by nature a celibate or a hater of women. He was, on 
the contrary, fond of their society, and anxious to make himself agreeable to them. His 
failure with Lady Mary Wortley Montagu was deserved; the relation was a mere affair 
of gallantry, which she took good care to snuff out when the adorer's protiestations began 
to weary her. She was not a womanly person, and forestalled much public indignation 
at Pope's subsequent abuse by adopting an equally brutal system of retort. 
y His failure with Martha Blount was of a very different sort, and of far greater signifi- 
cance. She was the younger of two daughters belonging to one of the Roman Catholic 
families in Pope's Windsor Forest circle of acquaintance. With her and with her sister 
Teresa, Pope was for many years upon terms of the closest intimacy. They were not 
much alike; and though Pope made a habit of addressing them with guarded impartial- 
ity in his correspondence, it is to be seen almost from the first that his feeling for the 
more practical and worldly older sister was less warm than his feeling for the amiable 
and feminine "Patty." Eventually, after years of friendship, the poet made a few in- 
direct overtures to Martha in the direction of marriage ; and at last ventured to express 
himself plainly to Teresa. To his unspeakable humiliation and grief, she treated his 
honest declaration as an affront to her sister, and upon precisely the painful ground of 
his deformity, which had for so many years kept him from speaking. Pope could not help 
feeling that however Martha might, if left to herself, have received his advances, it 



XX ALEXANDER POPE 



was now out of the question to pursue them. His behavior under the circumstances 
was full of dignity. It was impossible for the friendship to be renewed upon the old 
footing, but his only revenge beyond that of the necessary withdrawal from familiar in- 
tercourse was to settle a pension upon Teresa at the time, and to leave most of his pro- 
perty by will to Martha. We can hardly imagine Pope madly in love, but that he had a 
calm and steadfast affection for Martha Blount we cannot doubt. He was disposed to 
marry, and he would have liked to marry her. She represented the ideal of womanhood 
in bis mind; and to her, in the heat of his most savage bouts of idol-breaking, he pauses 
to raise a white shaft of love and faith. 

If the present editor, after a careful and well-rewarded study of the poet and the man, 
has any mite of interpretation to offer, it is not that Pope was a greater poet, but that 
he was a better man, than he is commonly painted; an unamiable man, yet not for that 
reason altogether unworthy of regard; a man with little meannesses carried upon his 
sleeve for all the world to mock at, and with the large magnanimity which could face the 
world alone, without advantages of birth or wealth or education or even health, and win 
a great victory. Such a man cannot conceivably be supposed to have stumbled upon 
success. Not only inspired cleverness of hand, but force of character and sanity of mind 
must be responsible for his work. After the lapse of nearly two centuries it should 
perhaps be right to indulge ourselves somewhat more sparingly in condemnation of his 
foibles, and to recall more willingly the sound kernel of character which is the basis of 
his personality. Whatever slander he may have retailed about the camp-fire, whatever 
foolish vanity he may have had in his uniform, Pope fought the good fight. 'After 
all,' he wrote to Bishop Atterbury, who was trying to make a Protestant of him, * I 
verily believe your Lordship and I are both of the same religion, if we were thoroughly 
understood by one another, and that all honest and reasonable Christians would be so, 
if they did but talk together every day ; and had nothing to do together but to serve God 
and live in peace with their neighbors.' 

H. W. B. 

Andover, March, 1903. 



EARLY POEMS 



ODE ON SOLITUDE 

'This was a very early production of our 
Author, written at about twelve years old,' says 
Pope in one of his unsigned and unreliable notes. 
If the statement is true, it was probably writ- 
ten during the year 1700. It is apparently 
the earliest poem of Pope's which remains to 
us, though according to Roscoe, ' Dodsley, who 
was honoured with his intimacy, had seen sev- 
eral pieces of an earlier date.' 

Happy the man whose wish and care 

A few paternal acres bound, 
Couteut to breathe his native air 
In his own ground. 

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with 
bread, 
Whose flocks supply him with attire, 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
In winter fire. 

Bless'd who can unconcern'dly find 

Hours, days, and years slide soft away, 
In health of body, peace of mind, 
Quiet by day; 

Sound sleep by night : study and ease 
Together mix'd; sweet recreation; 
And innocence, which most does please, 
With meditation. 

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown. 

Thus unlamented let me die ; 
Steal from the world, and not a stone 
Tell where I lie. 



A PARAPHRASE (ON THOMAS A 
KEMPIS,L.iii. c. 2) 

Supposed to have been written in 1700 ; first 
published from the Caryll Papers in the Athe- 
ncBum, July 15, 1854. 



Speak, Gracious Lord, oh, speak ; thy ser- 
vant hears: 
For I 'm thy servant and I '11 still be 
so: 

Speak words of comfort in my willing 
ears; 
And since my tongue is in thy praises 
slow, 

And since that thine all Rhetoric exceeds: 

Speak thou in words, but let me speak in 
deeds ! 

Nor speak alone, but give me grace to 
hear 
What thy celestial Sweetness does im- 
part; 

Let it not stop when enter'd at the ear, 
But sink, and take deep rooting in my 
heart. 

As the parch'd Earth drinks rain (but grace 
afford) 

With such a gust will I receive thy word- 

Nor with the Israelites shall I desire 

Thy heav'nly word by Moses to receive, 
Lest I should die : but Thou who didst in- 
spire 
Moses himself, speak Thou, that I may 
live. 
Rather with Samuel I beseech with tears, 
Speak, gracious Lord, oh, speak, thy ser- 
vant hears. 

Moses, indeed, may say the words, but 
Thou 
Must give the Spirit, and the Life in- 
spire; 

Our Love to thee his fervent breath may 
blow, 
But 't is thyself alone can give the fire: 

Thou without them may'st speak and profit 
too; 

But without thee what could the Prophets 
do? 



EARLY POEMS 



They preach the Doctrine, but thou mak'st 

us do 't ; 
They teach the myst'ries thou dost open 

lay ; 
The trees they water, but thou giv'st the 

fruit ; 
They to Salvation show the arduous way, 
But none but you can give us strength to 

walk ; 
You give the Practice, they but give the 

Talk. 

Let them be silent then ; and thou alone, 
My God ! speak comfort to my ravish'd 
ears ; 
Light of my eyes, my Consolation, 

Speak when thou wilt, for still thy ser- 
vant hears. 
Whate'er thou speak'st, let this be under- 
stood : 
Thy greater Glory, and my greater Good ! 



TO THE AUTHOR OF A POEM 
ENTITLED SUCCESSIO 

Elkanah Settle, celebrated as Doeg in Dry- 
den's Absalom and Achitophel, wrote Succes- 
sio in honor of the incoming Brunswick dy- 
nasty. Warburton (or possibly Pope) in a note 
on Dunciad, I. 181, says that the poem was 
' written at fourteen years old, and soon after 
printed.' A good instance of Pope's economy 
of material will be found in the passage upon 
which that note bears : an adaptation of lines 
4, 17 and 18 of this early poem. It was first 
published in Lintot's Miscellanies, 1712. 

Begone, ye Critics, and restrain your spite, 

Codrus writes on, and will forever write. 

The heaviest Muse the swiftest course has 
gone, 

As clocks run fastest when most lead is on ; 

What tho' no bees around your cradle flew, 

Nor on your lips distill'd their golden dew; 

Yet have we oft discover'd in their stead 

A swarm of drones that buzz'd about your 
head. 

When you, like Orpheus, strike the war- 
bling lyre, 

Attentive blocks stand round you and ad- 
mire. 

Wit pass'd thro' thee no longer is the 
same, 

As meat digested takes a diff'rent name ; 

But sense must sure thy safest plunder be, 



Since no reprisals can be made on thee. 
Thus thou may'st rise, and in thy daring 

flight 
(Tho' ne'er so weighty) reach a wondrous 

height. 
So, forc'd from engines, lead itself can 

fly, 

And pond'rous slugs move nimbly thro' the 

sky. 
Sure Bavius copied Mcevius to the full. 
And Cheer ilus taught Codrus to be dull; 
Therefore, dear friend, at my advice give 

o'er 
This needless labour ; and contend no more 
To prove a dull succession to be true. 
Since 't is enough we find it so in you. 



THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS'S 
THEBAIS 

TRANSLATED IN THE YEAR I703 

Though Pope ascribes this translation to 
1703, there is evidence that part of it was done 
as early as 1699. It was finally revised and pub- 
lished in 1712, but Courthope asserts that ' it 
is fair to assume that the body of the composi- 
tion is preserved in its original form.' 

ARGUMENT 

(Edipus, King of Thebes, having, by mis- 
take, slain his father Laius, and married his 
mother Jocasta, put out his own eyes, and re- 
sign'd the realm to his sons Eteoeles and Poly- 
nices. Being neglected by them, he makes his 
prayer to the Fury Tisiphone, to sow debate 
betwixt the brothers. They agree at last to 
reign singly, each a year by turns, and the 
first lot is obtain' d by Eteoeles. Jupiter, in a 
council of the gods, declares his resolution of 
punishing the Thebans, and Argives also, by 
means of a marriage betwixt Polynices and 
one of the daughters of Adrastus King of Ar- 
gos. Juno opposes, but to no effect ; and 
Mercury is sent on a message to the shades, to 
the ghost of Laius, who is to appear to Eteo- 
eles, and provoke him to break the agreement. 
Polynices, in the mean time, departs from 
Thebes by night, is overtaken by a storm, and 
arrives at Argos ; where he meets with Tideus, 
who had fled from Calidon, having kill'd his 
brother. Adrastus entertains them, having 
receiv'd an oracle from Apollo that his daugh- 
ters should be married to a boar and a lion, 
which he understands to be meant of these 
strangers, by whom the hides of those beasts 
were worn, and who arrived at the time when 



THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS'S THEBAIS 



he kept an annual feast in honour of that god. 
The rise of tliis solemnity. He relates to his 
guests the loves of Phoebus and Psamathe, 
and the story of Choroebus : he inquires, and 
is made acquainted, with their descent and 
quality. The sacrifice is renew'd, and the book 
concludes with a hymn to Apollo. 

Fraternal rage, the guilty Thebes' 

alarms, 
Th' alternate reign destroy'd by impious 

arms 
Demand our song ; a sacred fury fires 
My ravish'd breast, and all the Muse in- 
spires. 
O Goddess ! say, shall I deduce my rhymes 
From the dire nation in its early times, 
Europa's rape, Agenor's stern decree. 
And Cadmus searching round the spacious 

sea ? 
How with the serpent's teeth he sow'd the 

soil. 
And reap'd an iron harvest of his toil ; lo 
Or how from joining stones the city sprung. 
While to his harp divine Amphion sung ? 
Or shall I Juno's hate to Thebes resound. 
Whose fatal rage th' unhappy monarch 

found ? 
The sire against the son his arrows drew. 
O'er the wide fields the furious mother 

flew. 
And while her arms a second hope contain. 
Sprung from the rocks, and plunged into 

the main. 
But waive whate'er to Cadmus may 

belong. 
And fix, O Muse ! the barrier of thy song 
At (Edipus — from his disasters trace 21 
The long confusions of his guilty race : 
Nor yet attempt to stretch thy bolder 

wing, 
And mighty Csesar's conquering eagles 

sing ; 
How twice he tamed proud Ister's rapid 

flood. 
While Dacian mountains stream'd with 

barb'rous blood : 
Twice taught the Rhine beneath his laws 

to roll, 
And stretch'd his empire to the frozen 

pole ; 
Or, long before, with early valour strove 
In youthful arms t' assert the cause of 

Jove. 30 

And thou, great heir of all thy father's 

fame^ 



Increase of glory to the Latian name, 
O ! bless thy Rome with an eternal reign, 
Nor let desiring worlds entreat in vain ! 
What tho' the stars contract their heav'nly 

space, 
And crowd their shining ranks to yield 

thee place ; 
Tho' all the skies, ambitious of thy sway. 
Conspire to court thee from our world 

away ; 
Tho' Phoebus longs to mix his rays with 

thine, 
And in thy glories more serenely shine ; 40 
Tho' Jove himself no less content would 

be 
To part his throne, and share his Heav'n 

with thee ? 
Yet stay, great Csesar ! and vouchsafe to 

reign 
O'er the wide earth, and o'er the wat'ry 

main ; 
Resign to Jove his empire of the skies. 
And people Heav'n with Roman deities. 

The time will come when a diviner flame 
Shall warm my breast to sing of Caesar's 

fame ; 
Meanwhile permit that my preluding 

Muse 
In Theban wars an humbler theme may 

choose. 50 

Of furious hate surviving death she sings, 
A fatal throne to two contending kings. 
And funeral flames that, parting wide in 

air. 
Express the discord of the souls they bear: 
Of towns dispeopled, and the wand'ring 

ghosts 
Of kings unburied in the wasted coasts ; 
When Dirce's fountain blnsh'd with Gre- 
cian blood. 
And Thetis, near Ismenos' swelling flood. 
With dread beheld the rolling surges 

sweep 
In heaps his slaughter'd sons into the 

deep. 60 

What hero, Clio! wilt thou first relate ? 
The rage of Tydeus, or the prophet's 

fate? 
Or how, with hills of slain on every side, 
Hippomedon repell'd the hostile tide ? 
Or how the youth, with ev'ry grace 

adorn'd, 
Untimely fell, to be forever mourn'd ? 
Then to fierce Capaneus thy verse extend. 
And sing with horror his prodigious end. 



EARLY POEMS 



Now wretched (Edipus, deprived of 

sight, 
Led a long death in everlasting night ; 70 
But while he dwells where not a cheerful 

ray 
Can pierce the darkness, and abhors the 

day, 
The clear reflecting mind presents his sin 
In frightful views, and makes it day within; 
Returning thoughts in endless circles roll, 
And thousand furies haunt his guilty soul: 
The wretch then lifted to th' unpitying 

skies 
Those empty orbs from whence he tore his 

eyes. 
Whose wounds, yet fresh, with bloody 

hands he strook, 
While from his breast these dreadful ac- 
cents broke : — 80 
* Ye Gods ! that o'er the gloomy regions 

reign, 
Where guilty spirits feel eternal pain ; 
Thou, sable Styx ! whose livid streams are 

roll'd 
Through dreary coasts, which I tho' blind 

behold ; 
Tisiphone ! that oft has heard ray prayer, 
Assist, if (Edipus deserve thy care. 
If you receiv'd me from Jocasta's womb, 
And nurs'd the hope of mischiefs yet to 

come ; 
If, leaving Polybus, I took my way 
To Cyrrha's temple, on that fatal day 90 
When by the son the trembling father died. 
Where the three roads the Phocian fields 

divide ; 
If I the Sphynx's riddles durst explain. 
Taught by thyself to win the promis'd 

reign ; 
If wretched I, by baleful furies led. 
With monstrous mixture stain'd my mo- 
ther's bed, 
For Hell and thee begot an impious brood. 
And with full lust those horrid joys re- 

new'd, 
Then, self condemn'd, to shades of endless 

night, 
Forc'd from these orbs the bleeding balls 

of sight, 100 

Oh hear ! and aid the vengeance I require. 
If worthy thee, and what thou might'st in- 
spire. 
My sons their old unhappy sire despise, 
Spoil'd of his kingdom, and deprived of 

eyes; 



Guideless I wander, unregarded mourn. 

Whilst these exalt their sceptres o'er my 
urn ; 

These sons, ye Gods ! who with flagitious 
pride 

Insult my darkness and my groans deride. 

Art thou a father, uuregarding Jove ! 

And sleeps thy thunder in the realms 
above ? no 

Thou Fury ! then some lasting curse entail. 

Which o'er their children's children shall 
prevail ; 

Place on their heads that crown distain'd 
with gore. 

Which these dire hands from my slain 
father tore ; 

Go ! and a parent's heavy curses bear; 

Break all the bonds of Nature, and pre- 
pare ^ 

Their kindred souls to mutual hate and 
war. 

Give them to dare, what I might wish to see, 

Blind as I am, some glorious villany ! 

Soon shalt thou find, if thou but arm their 
hands, 120 

Their ready guilt preventing thy com- 
mands : 

Couldst thou some great proportion'd mis- 
chief frame. 

They 'd prove the father from whose loins 
they came.' 
The Fury heard, while on Cocytus' brink 

Her snakes, untied, sulphureous waters 
drink ; 

But at the summons roll'd her eyes around, 

And snatch'd the starting serpents from 
the ground. 

Not half so swiftly shoots along in air 

The gliding lightning or descending star. 

Thro' crowds of airy shades she wing'd her 
flight, 130 

And dark dominions of the silent night ; 

Swift as she pass'd the flitting ghosts with- 
drew. 

And the pale spectres trembled at her 
view : 

To th' iron gates of Tenarus she flies. 

There spreads her dusky pinions to the 
skies. 

The Day beheld, and, sick'ning at the sight, 

Veil'd her fair glories in the shades of 
night. 

Affrighted Atlas on the distant shore 

Trembled, and shook the heav'ns and Gods 
be bore. 



THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS'S THEBAIS 



Now from beneath Malea's airy height 140 
Aloft she sprung, and steer'd to Thebes 

her flight ; 
With eager speed the well known journey 

took, 
Nor here regrets the Hell she late forsook. 
A hundred snakes her gloomy visage shade, 
A hundred serpents guard her horrid head ; 
In her sunk eyeballs dreadful meteors 

glow: 
Such rays from Phoebe's bloody circle flow, 
When, lab'ring with strong charms, she 

shoots from high 
A fiery gleam, and reddens all the sky. 
Blood stain'd her cheeks, and from her 

mouth there came 150 

Blue steaming poisons, and a length of 

flame. 
From every blast of her contagious breath 
Famine and Drought proceed, and Plagues 

and Death. 
A robe obscene was o'er her shoulders 

thrown, 
A dress by Fates and Furies worn alone. 
She toss'd her meagre arms ; her better 

hand 
In waving circles whirl'd a funeral brand ; 
A serpent from her left was seen to rear 
His flaming crest, and lash the yielding 

air. 159 

But when the Fury took her stand on high. 
Where vast Cithreron's top salutes the sky, 
A hiss from all the snaky tire went round : ' 
The dreadful signal all the rocks rebound, I 
And thro' th' Achaian cities send the | 

sound. J 

CEte, with high Parnassus, heard the voice; 
Eurotas' banks remurmur'd to the noise ; 
Again Leucothea shook at these alarms. 
And press'd Palaemon closer in her arms. 
Headlong from thence the glowing Fury 

springs, 
And o'er the Theban palace spreads her 

wings, 170 

Once more invades the guilty dome, and 

shrouds 
Its bright pavilions in a veil of clouds. 
Straight with the rage of all their race " 

possest. 
Stung to the soul, the brothers start 

from rest, 
And all their furies wake within their 

breast : 

Their tortured minds repining Envy tears, 
And Hate, engender'd by suspicious Fears; 



And sacred thirst of Sway, and all the ties 
Of Nature broke, and royal Perjuries ; 
And impotent desire to reign alone, 180 

That scorns the dull reversion of a throne : 
Each would the sweets of sov'reign Rule 

devour. 
While Discord waits upon divided power. 
As stubborn steers, by brawny plough- 
men broke. 
And join'd reluctant to the galling yoke. 
Alike disdain with servile necks to bear 
Th' unwonted weight, or drag the crooked 

share, 
But rend the reins, and bound a diff'rent 

way, 
And all the furrows in confusion lay : 
Such was the discord of the royal pair 190 
Whom fury drove precipitate to war. 
In vain the chiefs contrived a specious way 
To govern Thebes by their alternate sway: 
Unjust decree ! while this enjoys the state, 
That mourns in exile his unequal fate, 
And the short monarch of a hasty year 
Foresees with anguish his returning heir. 
Thus did the league their impious arms re- 
strain. 
But scarce subsisted to the second reign. 
Yet then no proud aspiring piles were 
rais'd, 200 

No fretted roofs with polish'd metals 

blazed ; 
No labour'd columns in long order placed. 
No Grecian stone the pompous arches 

graced ; 
No nightly bands in glitt'ring armour wait 
Before the sleepless tyrant's guarded gate; 
No charges then were wrought in burnish'd 

gold. 
Nor silver vases took the forming mould ; 
Nor gems on bowls emboss'd were seen to 

shine, 
Blaze on the brims, and sparkle in the 

wine. 
Say, wretched rivals ! what provokes your 
rage ? 210 

Say to what end your impious arms en- 
gage ? 
Not all bright Phcebus views in early morn. 
Or when his ev'ning beams the west adorn, 
When the South glows with his meridian 

ray, 
And the cold North receives a fainter 

day — 
For crimes like these not all those realms 
suffice, 



^^ 



EARLY POEMS 



Were all those realms the guilty victor's 

prize ! 
But Fortune now (the lots of empire 

thrown) 
Decrees to proud Eteocles the crown. 
What joys, O Tyrant ! swell'd thy soul that 

day, 220 

When all were slaves thou could'st around 

survey, 
Pleas'd to behold unbounded power thy 

own. 
And singly fill a fear'd and envied throne ! 

But the vile vulgar, ever discontent. 
Their growing fears in secret murmurs 

vent ; 
Still prone to change, tho' still the slaves of 

state, 
And sure the monarch whom they have to 

hate ; 
New lords they madly make, then tamely 

bear, 
And softly curse the tyrants whom they 

fear. 
And one of those who groan beneath the 

sway 230 

Of kings imposed, and grudgingly obey, 
(Whom Envy to the great, and vulgar 

Spite, 
With Scandal arm'd, th' ignoble mind's de- 

. light) 
Exclaim'd — "O Thebes! for thee what 

fates remain. 
What woes attend this unauspicious reign ? 
Must we, alas ! our doubtful necks prepare "" 
Each haughty master's yoke by turns to 

bear. 
And still to change whom changed we 

still must fear ? 
These now control a wretched people's fate. 
These can divide, and these reverse the 

state : 240 

Ev'n Fortune rules no more — O servile 

land. 
Where exiled tyrants still by turns com- 
mand ! 
Thou Sire of Gods and men, imperial Jove! 
Is this th' eternal doom decreed above ? 
On thy own offspring hast thou fix'd this 

fate 
From the first birth of our unhappy state. 
When banish'd Cadmus, wand'ring o'er the 

main, 
For lost Europa search'd the world in vain. 
And fated in Boeotian fields to found 
A rising empire on a foreign ground, 250 



First rais'd our walls on that ill-omen'd 

plain 
Where earth-born brothers were by bro- 
thers slain ? 
What lofty looks th' unrivall'd monarch 

bears ! 
How all the Tyrant in his face appears ! 
What sullen fury clouds his scornful brow ! 
Gods ! how his eyes with threat'uing ar- 
dour glow ! 
Can this imperious lord forget to reign, 
Quit all his state, descend, and serve again ? 
Yet who before more popularly bow'd ? 
Who more propitious to the suppliant 

crowd ? 260 

Patient of right, familiar in the throne, 
What wonder then ? he was not then alone. 
Oh wretched we ! a vile submissive train. 
Fortune's tame fools, and slaves in every 

reign ! 
* As when two winds with rival force 

contend. 
This way and that the wavering sails they 

bend. 
While freezing Boreas and black Eurus 

blow. 
Now here, now there the reeling vessel 

throw ; 
Thus on each side, alas ! our tott'ring state 
Feels all the fury of resistless Fate, 270 
And doubtful still, and still distracted 

stands. 
While that prince threatens, and while this 

commands.' 
And now th' almighty Father of the Gods 
Convenes a council in the bless'd abodes. 
Far in the bright recesses of the skies, 
High o'er the rolling heav'ns, a mansion lies, 
Whence, far below, the Gods at once 1 

survey 
The realms of rising and declining day. 
And all th' extended space of earth, 

and air, and sea. 279 _ 

Full in the midst, and on a starry throne. 
The Majesty of Heav'n superior shone : 
Serene he look'd, and gave an awful nod. 
And all the trembling spheres confess'd the 

God. 
At Jove's assent the deities around 
In solemn state the consistory crown'd. 
Next a long order of inferior powers 
Ascend from hills, and plains, and shady 

bowers ; 
Those from whose urns the rolling rivers 

flow, 



THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS'S THEBAIS 



And those that give the wand'ring winds to 

blow : 
Here all their rage andev'n their murmurs 
cease, 290 

And sacred Silence reigns, and universal 

Peace. 
A shining synod of majestic Gods 
Gilds with new lustre the divine abodes : 
Heav'n seems improv'd with a superior ray, 
And the bright arch reflects a double day. 
The Monarch then his solemn silence broke, 
The still creation listen'd while he spoke ; 
Each sacred accent bears eternal weight, 
And each irrevocable word is Fate. 

* How long shall man the wrath of 

Heav'n defy, 300 

And force unwilling vengeance from the 

sky ? 
O race confed'rate into crimes, that prove 
Triumphant o'er th' eluded rage of Jove ! 
This wearied arm can scarce the bolt sus- 
tain, 
And unregarded thunder rolls in vain : 
Th' o'erlabour'd Cyclop from his task re- 
tires, 
Th' ^olian forge exhausted of its fires. 
For this I suffer'd Phoebus' steeds to stray, 
And the mad ruler to misguide the day, 
When the wide earth to heaps of ashes 
turn'd, 310 

And Heav'n itself the wand'ring chariot 

burn'd ; 
For this my brother of the wat'ry reign 
Releas'd th' impetuous sluices of the main ; 
But flames consumed, and billows raged 

in vain. 

Two races now, allied to Jove, offend ; 
To punish these, see Jove himself descend. 
The Theban kings their line from Cadmus 

trace. 
From godlike Perseus those of Argive race. 
Unhappy Cadmus' fate who does not know, 
And the long series of succeeding woe ? 320 
How oft the Furies from the deeps of night 
Arose, and mix'd with men in mortal fight; 
Th' exulting mother stain'd with filial 

blood. 
The savage hunter and the haunted wood ? 
The direful banquet why should I pro- 
claim. 
And crimes that grieve the trembling Gods 

to name ? 
Ere I recount the sins of these profane, ^ 
The sun would sink into the western main, > 
And, rising, gild the radiant east again, j 



Have we not seen (the blood of Laius 

shed) 330 

The murd'ring son ascend his parent's bed. 
Thro* violated Nature force his way. 
And stain the sacred womb where once he 

lay? 
Yet now in darkness and despair he groans. 
And for the crimes of guilty Fate atones; 
His sons with scorn their eyeless father 

view. 
Insult his wounds, and make them bleed 

anew. 337 

Thy curse, O CEdipus ! just Heav'n alarms, 
And sets th' avenging Thunderer in arms. 
I from the root thy guilty race will tear, 
And give the nations to the waste of war. 
Adrastus soon, with Gods averse, shall join 
In dire alliance with the Theban line ; 
Hence strife shall rise, and mortal war suc- 
ceed ; 
The guilty realms of Tantalus shall bleed : 
Fix'd is their doom. This all-rememb'ring 

breast 
Yet harbours vengeance for the tyrant's 

feast.' 
He said ; and thus the Queen of Heav'n 

return'd 
(With sudden grief her lab'ring bosom 

burn'd) : 
* Must I, whose cares Phoroneus' towers 

defend, 350 

Must I, O Jove ! in bloody wars contend ? 
Thou know'st those regions my protection 

claim. 
Glorious in Arms, in Riches, and in Fame : 
Tho' there the fair Egyptian heifer fed, 
And there deluded Argus slept and bled ; 
Tho' there the brazen tower was storm'd of 

old. 
When Jove descended in almighty gold ! 
Yet I can pardon those obscurer rapes. 
Those bashful crimes disguis'd in borrow'd 

shapes ; 
But Thebes, where, shining in celestial 

charms, 360 

Thou camest triumphant to a mortal's 

arms, 
When all my glories o'er her limbs were 

spread, 
And blazing lightnings danced around her 

bed ; 
Curs'd Thebes the vengeance it deserves 

may prove — 
Ah ! why should Argos feel the rage of 

Jove? 



EARLY POEMS 



Yet since thou wilt thy sister-queen control, 
Since still the lust of Discord fires thy soul, 
Go, raze my Samos, let Mycene fall, 
And level with the dust the Spartan wall ; 
No more let mortals Juno's power invoke, ' 
Her fanes no more with eastern incense 

smoke, 371 

Nor victims sink beneath the sacred 

stroke ; 

But to your Isis all my rights transfer. 
Let altars blaze and temples smoke for her ! 
For her, thro' Egypt's fruitful clime re- 

nown'd, 
Let weeping Nilus hear the timbrel sound. 
But if thou must reform the stubborn 

times. 
Avenging on the sons the fathers' crimes, 
And from the long records of distant age 
Derive incitements to renew thy rage ; 380 
Say, from what period then has Jove de- 

sign'd 
To date his vengeance ? to what bounds 

confin'd ? 
Begin from thence, where first Alpheus 

hides 
His wand'ring stream, and thro' the briny 

tides 
Unmix'd to his Sicilian river glides. 
Thy own Arcadians there the thunder 

claim, 
Whose impious rites disgrace thy mighty 

name ; 
Who raise thy temples where the chariot 

stood 
Of fierce (Enomaiis, defil'd with blood ; 
Where once his steeds their savage ban- 
quet found, 390 
And human bones yet whiten all the 

ground. 
Say, can those honours please ? and canst 

thou love 
Presumptuous Crete, that boasts the tomb 

of Jove ? 
And shall not Tantalus's kingdoms share 
Thy wife and sister's tutelary care ? 
Reverse, O Jove ! thy too severe decree, 
Nor doom to war a race derived from thee ; 
On impious realms and barb'rous kings 

impose 
Thy plagues, and curse them wath such 

sons as those.' 
Thus in reproach and prayer the Queen 

exprest 400 

The rage and grief contending in her 

breast ; 



Unmov'd remain'd the Ruler of the Sky, 
And from his throne return'd this stern 

reply : 
'T was thus I deem'd thy haughty soul ] 

would bear [ 

The dire tho' just revenge which I prepare 
Against a nation thy peculiar care : 
No less Dione might for Thebes contend, 
Nor Bacchus less his native town defend ; 
Yet these in silence see the Fates fulfil 
Their work, and rev'rence our superior 

will : 410 

For by the black infernal Styx I swear 
(That dreadful oath which binds the Thun- 
derer) 
'T is fix'd, th' irrevocable doom of Jove ; 
No Force can bend me, no Persuasion 

move. 
Haste then, Cyllenius, thro' the liquid air ; 
Go, mount the winds, and to the shades re- 
pair ; 
Bid Hell's black monarch my commands 

obey, 417 

And give up Laius to the realms of day, 
Whose ghost yet shiv'ring on Cocytus' sand 
Expects its passage to the further strand : 
Let the pale sire revisit Thebes, and bear 
These pleasing orders to the tyrant's ear ; 
That from his exiled brother, swell'd with 

pride 
Of foreign forces and his Argive bride, 
Almighty Jove commands him to detain 
The promis'd empire, and alternate reign : 
Be this the cause of more than mortal hate; 
The rest succeeding times shall ripen into 

Fate.' 
The God obeys, and to his feet applies 
Those golden wings that cut the yielding 

skies ; 430 

His ample hat his beamy locks o'erspread, 
And veil'd the starry glories of his head. 
He seiz'd the wand that causes sleep to fly, 
Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye ; 
That drives the dead to dark Tartarean 

coasts, 
Or back to life compels the wand'ring 

ghosts. 
Thus thro' the parting clouds the son of 

May 
Wings on the whistling winds his rapid 

way; 
Now smoothly steers thro' air his equal 

flight, 
Now springs aloft, and towers th' ethereal 

height ; 440 



THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS'S THEBAIS 



Then wheeling down the steep of heav'n 

he flies, 
And draws a radiant circle o'er the skies. 
Meantime the banish'd Polynices roves 
(His Thebes abandon'd) thro' th' Aonian 

groves, 
While future realms his wand'ring thoughts 

delight, 
His daily vision, and his dream by night. 
Forbidden Thebes appears before his eye, 
From whence he sees his absent brother fly, 
With transport views the airy rule his own. 
And swells on an imaginary throne. 450 
Fain would he cast a tedious age away, 
And live out all in one triumphant day : 
He chides the lazy progress of the sun, 
And bids the year with swifter motion 

run : 
With anxious hopes his craving mind is tost, 
And all his joys in length of wishes lost. 
The hero then resolves his course to" 
bend 
Where ancient Danaus' fruitful fields ex- 
tend, 

And famed Mycene's lofty towers ascend ^ 
(Where late the sun did Atreus' crimes 
detest, 460 

And disappear'd in horror of the feast) ; 
And now by Chance, by Fate, or Furies led. 
From Bacchus' consecrated caves he fled. 
Where the shrill cries of frantic matrons 

sound, 
And Pentheus' blood enrich'd the rising: 

ground ; 
Then sees Cithseron towering o'er the plain. 
And thence declining gently to the main ; 
Next to the bounds of Nisus' realm re- 
pairs. 
Where treach'rous Scylla cut the purple 

hairs ; 
The hanging cliffs of Scyron's rock ex- 
plores, 470 
And hears the murmurs of the diff'rent 

shores ; 
Passes the strait that parts the foaming 

seas, 

And stately Corinth's pleasing site surveys. 

'T was now the time when Phoebus yields 

to night. 

And rising Cynthia sheds her silver light ; 

Wide o'er the world in solemn pomp she 

drew 
Her airy chariot, hung with pearly dew : 
All birds and beasts lie hush'd : sleep steals 
away 



The wild desires of men, and toils of day, 

And brings, descending thro' the silent air, 

A sweet forgetfulness of human care. 481 

Yet no red clouds, with golden borders gay, 

Promise the skies the bright return of day ; 

No faint reflections of the distant light 

Streak with long gleams the scatt'ring 
shades of night ; 

From the damp earth impervious vapours 
rise, 

Increase the darkness, and involve the skies. 

At once the rushing winds with roaring 
sound 

Burst from th' ^olian caves, and rend the 
ground ; 

With equal rage their airy quarrel try, 490 

And win by turns the kingdom of the sky. 

But with a thicker night black Auster 
shrouds 

The heav'jis, and drives on heaps the roll- 
ing clouds 

From whose dark womb a rattling tempest 
pours, 

Which the cold north congeals to haily 
showers : 

From pole to pole the thunder roars aloud, 

And broken lightnings flash from every 
cloud. 

Now smokes with showers the misty moun- 
tain-ground, 

And floated fields lie undistinguish'd 
round ; 

Th' Inachian streams with headlong fury 
run, 500 

And Erasinus rolls a deluge on ; 

The foaming Lerna swells above its bounds, 

And spreads its ancient poisons o'er the 
grounds ; 

Where late was dust, now rapid torrents 
play. 

Rush thro' the mounds, and bear the dams 
away ; 

Old limbs of trees, from crackling forests 
torn. 

Are whirl'd in air, and on the winds are 
borne ; 

The storm the dark Lycsean groves dis- 
play 'd, 

And first to light exposed the sacred shade. 

Th' intrepid Theban hears the bursting sky, 

Sees yawning rocks in massy fragments 

fly, 5" 

And views astonish'd, from the hills afar, 
The floods descending, and the wat'ry 

war. 



lO 



EARLY POEMS 



That, driv'n by storms and pouring o'er 

the plain, 
Swept herds, and hinds, and houses to the 

main. 
Thro' the brown horrors of the night he fled, 
Nor knows, amaz'd, what doubtful path to 

tread ; 
His brother's image to his mind appears. 
Inflames his heart with rage, and wings his 

feet with fears. 519 

So fares the sailor on the stormy main. 
When clouds conceal Bootes' golden wain, 
When not a star its friendly lustre keeps, 
Nor trembling Cynthia glimmers on the 

deeps ; 
He dreads the rocks, and shoals, and seas, 

and skies, 
While thunder roars, and lightning round 

him flies. 
Thus strove the chief, on ev'ry side dis- 

tress'd; 
Thus still his courage with his toils in- 

ereas'd. 
With his broad shield opposed, he forced 

his way 
Thro' thickest woods, and rous'd the beasts 

of prey, ^ _ 529 

Till he beheld where from Larissa's height 
The shelving walls reflect a glancing light. 
Thither with haste theTheban hero flies; ^ 
On this side Lerna's pois'nous water lies, > 
On that Prosymna's grove and temple rise. J 
He pass'd the gates which then unguarded 

lay, 

And to the regal palace bent his way ; 
On the cold marble, spent with toil, he lies. 
And waits till pleasing slumbers seal his 

eyes. 
Adrastus here his happy people sways, 
Bless'd with calm peace in his declining 

days ; 540 

By both his parents of descent divine, 
Great Jove and Phcebus graced his noble 

line : 
Heav'n had not crown'd his wishes with a 

son, 
But two fair daughters heir'd his state and 

throne. 
To him Apollo (wondrous to relate ! 
But who can pierce into the depths of fate ?) 
Had sung — ' Expect thy sons on Argos' 

shore, 
A yellow lion and a bristly boar.' 
This long revolv'd in his paternal breast, 
Sat heavy on his heart, and broke his rest ; 



This, great Amphiaraus ! lay hid from 

thee, ^ 551 

Tho' skill'd in fate and dark futurity. 
The father's care and prophet's art were 

vain. 
For thus did the predicting God ordain. 

Lo, hapless Tydeus ! whose ill-fated hand 
Had slain his brother, leaves his native land, 
And, seiz'd with horror in the shades of 

night. 
Thro' the thick deserts headlong urged his 

flight : 
Now by the fury of the tempest driv'n, 
He seeks a shelter from th' inclement 

heav'n, 560 

Till, led by fate, the Thebau's steps he 

treads. 
And to fair Argos' open courts succeeds. 
When thus the chiefs from diff'rent lands 

resort 
T' Adrastus' realms and hospitable court, 
The King surveys his guests with curious 

,eyes, 
And views their arms and habit with sur- 
prise. 
A lion's yellow skin the Theban wears. 
Horrid his mane, and rough with curling 

hairs ; 
Such once employ'd Alcides' youthful toils, 
Ere yet adorn'd with Nemea's dreadful 

spoils. 570 

A boar's stiff hide, of Calydonian breed, 
Oenides' manly shoulders overspread ; 
Oblique his tusks, erect his bristles stood, 
Alive the pride and terror of the wood. 
Struck with the sight, and fix'd in deep 

amaze. 
The King th' accomplish'd oracle surveys, 
Reveres Apollo's vocal caves, and owns 
The guiding godhead and his future sons. 
O'er all his bosom secret transports reign, 
And a glad horror shoots thro' ev'ry vein : 
To Heav'n he lifts his hands, erects his 

sight, 581 

And thus invokes the silent Queen of 

Night : — 
' Goddess of shades ! beneath whose 

gloomy reign 
Yon spangled arch glows with the starry 

train ; 
You who the cares of Heav'n and Earth ' 

allay, 
Till Nature, quicken'd by th' inspiring 

ray. 
Wakes to new vigour with the rising day ; ^ 



THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS'S THEBAIS 



II 



O thou who freest me from my doubtful 
state, 

Long lost and wilder'd in the maze of Fate, 

Be present still, O Goddess ! in our aid; 

Proceed, and 'firm those omens thou hast 
made. 591 

We to thy name our annual rites will pay, 

And on thy altars sacrifices lay ; 

The sable flock shall fall beneath the 
stroke. 

And fill thy temples with a grateful 
smoke. 

Hail, faithful Tripos ! hail, ye dark abodes 

Of awful Phcebus ; I confess the Gods ! ' 
Thus, seiz'd with sacred fear, the Mon- 
arch pray'd ; 

Then to his inner court the guests convey'd, 

Where yet thin fumes from dying sparks 
arise, 600 

And dust yet white upon each altar lies, 

Tlie relics of a former sacrifice. 

The King once more the solemn rites re- 
quires, 

And bids renew the feasts and wake the 
fires. 

His train obey ; while all the courts around 

With noisy care and various tumult sound. 

Embroider'd purple clothes the golden 
beds ; 

This slave the floor, and that the table 
spreads ; 

A third dispels the darkness of the night. 

And fills depending lamps with beams of 
light ; 610 

Here loaves in canisters are piled on high, 

And there in flames the slaughter'd victims 

. fly- 

Sublime in regal state Adrastus shone, 
Stretch'd on rich carpets on his ivory 

throne ; 
A lofty couch receives each princely guest ; 
Around, at awful distance, wait the rest. 
And now the King, his royal feast to 

grace, 
Acestis calls, the guardian of his race. 
Who first their youth in arts of Virtue 

train'd. 
And their ripe years in modest Grace main- 

tain'd ; 620 

Then softly whisper'd in her faithful ear. 
And bade his daughters at the rites appear. 
When from the close apartments of the 

night 
The royal nymphs approach divinely 

bright, 



Such was Diana's, such Minerva's face. 
Nor shine their beauties with superior grace, 
But that in these a milder charm endears, 
And less of terror in their looks appears. 
As on the heroes first they cast their eyes, 
O'er their fair cheeks the glowing blushes 

rise ; 630 

Their downcast looks a decent shame con- 

fest. 
Then on their father's rev'rend features 

rest. 
The banquet done, the Monarch gives 

the sign 
To fill the goblet high with sparkling wine. 
Which Danaus used in sacred rites of old. 
With sculpture graced, and rough with ris- 
ing gold. 
Here to the clouds victorious Perseus flies, "] 
Medusa seems to move her languid eyes, > 
And ev'n in gold, turns paler as she dies: J 
There from the chase Jove's towering 

eagle bears, 640 

On golden wings, the Phrygian to the 

stars ; 
Still as he rises in th' ethereal height. 
His native mountains lessen to his sight, 
While all his sad companions upward gaze, 
Fix'd on the glorious scene in wild amaze. 
And the swift hounds, affrighted as he 

flies. 
Run to the shade, and bark against the 

skies. 
This golden bowl with gen'rous juice 

was crown'd. 
The first libation sprinkled on the ground ; 
By turns on each celestial Power they call; 
With Phoebus' name resounds the vaulted 

hall. 651 

The courtly train, the strangers, and the 

rest, 
Crown'd with chaste laurel, and with gar- 
lands drest, 
While with rich gums the fuming altars 

blaze. 
Salute the God in numerous hymns of 

praise. 
Then thus the King: ' Perhaps, my noble 

guests. 
These honour'd altars, and these annual 

feasts 
To bright Apollo's awful name design'd, 
Unknown, with wonder may perplex your 

mind. 659 

Great was the cause : our old solemnities 
From no blind zeal or fond tradition rise ; 



12 



EARLY POEMS 



But saved from death, our Argives yearly 

pay 

These grateful honours to the God of 

Day. 
* When by a thousand darts the Python 

slain 
With orbs unroll'd lay cov'ring all the 

plain, 
(Transfix'd as o'er Castalia's streams he 

hung. 
And suck'd new poisons with his triple 

tongue) 
To Argos' realms the victor God resorts, 
And enters old Crotopus' humble courts. 
This rural prince one only daughter 

bless'd, 670 

That all the charms of blooming youth 

possess'd ; 
Fair was her face, and spotless was her 

mind. 
Where filial love with virgin sweetness 

join'd. 
Happy ! and happy still she might have 

prov'd, 
Were she less beautiful, or less belov'd ! 
But Phcebus lov'd, and on the flowery side 
Of Nemea's stream the yielding Fair en- 

joy'd. 
Now ere ten moons their orb with light 

adorn, 
Th' illustrious offspring of the God was 

born ; 679 

The nymph, her father's anger to evade. 
Retires from Argos to the sylvan shade ; 
To woods and wilds the pleasing burden 

bears. 
And trusts her infant to a shepherd's cares. 
* How mean a fate, unhappy child, is 

thine ! 
Ah ! how unworthy those of race divine ! 
On flow'ry herbs in some green covert 

laid. 
His bed the ground, his canopy the shade, 
He mixes with the bleating lambs his cries, ] 
While the rude swain his rural music tries, > 
To call soft slumbers on his infant eyes. J 
Yet ev'n in those obscure abodes to live 691 
Was more, alas ! than cruel Fate would 

give ; 
For on the grassy verdure as he lay, 
And breathed the freshness of the early 

day, 
Devouring dogs the helpless infant tore, 
Fed on his trembling limbs, and lapp'd the 

gore. 



Th' astonish'd mother, when the rumour 

came. 
Forgets her father, and neglects her fame ; 
With loud complaints she fills the yielding 

air. 
And beats her breast, and rends her flow- 
ing hair ; 700 
Then wild with anguish to her sire she 

flies. 
Demands the sentence, and contented dies. 
*But touch'd with sorrow for the dead 

too late. 
The raging God prepares t' avenge her 

fate. 
He sends a monster horrible and fell, 
Begot by furies in the depths of Hell. 
The pest a virgin's face and bosom bears; 
High on her crown a rising snake appears. 
Guards her black front, and hisses in her 

hairs. 
About the realm she walks her dreadful 

round, 710 

When night with sable wings o'erspreads 

the ground. 
Devours young babes before their parents' 

eyes, 
And feeds and thrives on public miseries. 
* But gen'rous rage the bold Chorcebus 

warms, 
Chorcebus ! famed for virtue as for arms ; 
Some few like him, inspired with martial 

flame. 
Thought a short life well lost for endless 

fame. 
These, where two ways in equal parts" 

divide. 
The direful monster from afar descried. 
Two bleeding babes depending at her side ; ^ 
Whose panting vitals, warm with life, she 

draws, ^^^ 

And in their hearts imbrues her cruel 

claws. 
The youths surround her with extended 

spears ; 
But brave Chorcebus in the front appears ; 
Deep in her breast he plunged his shining 

sword. 
And Hell's dire monster back to Hell re- 

stor'd. 
Th' Inachians view the slain with vast sur- 
prise. 
Her twisting volumes and her rolling eyes, 
Her spotted breast and gaping womb im- 
brued 729 
With livid poison and our children's blood. 



THE FIRST BOOK OF STATIUS'S THEBAIS 



13 



The crowd in stupid wonder fix'd appear, 
Pale ev'n in joy, nor yet forget to fear. 
Some with vast beams the squalid corse 

engage, 
And weary all the wild efforts of rage. 
The birds obscene, that nightly flock'd to 

taste. 
With hollow screeches fled the dire re- 
past ; 
And rav'nous dogs, allured by scented 

blood. 
And starving wolves, ran howling to the 

wood. 
* But fired with rage, from cleft Par- ' 

nassus' brow 739 

Avenging Phcebus bent his deadly bow. 
And hissing flew the feather'd fates below. 
A night of sultry clouds involv'd around 
The towers, the fields, and the devoted 

ground : 
And now a thousand lives together fled, 
Death with his scythe cut off the fatal 

thread. 

And a whole province in his triumph led. _ 
'But Phoebus, ask'd why noxious fires 

appear 
And raging Sirius blasts the sickly year. 
Demands their lives by whom his monster 

fell. 
And dooms a dreadful sacrifice to Hell. 
' Bless'd be thy dust, and let eternal 

fame 751 

Attend thy Manes, and preserve thy 

Name, 
Undaunted Hero ! who, divinely brave. 
In such a cause disdain'd thy life to save. 
But view'd the shrine with a superior look. 
And its upbraided godhead thus bespoke : 
" With Piety, the soul's securest guard. 
And conscious Virtue, still its own reward, 
Willing I come, unknowing how to fear. 
Nor shalt thou, Phoebus, find a suppliant 

here : 760 

Thy monster's death to me was owed 

alone. 
And 't is a deed too glorious to disown. 
Behold him here, for whom, so many days, 
Impervious clouds conceal'd thy sullen 

rays ; 
For whom, as man no longer claim'd thy 

care. 
Such numbers fell by pestilential air ! 
But if th' abandon'd race of human kind 
From Gods above no more compassion 

find ; 



If such inclemency in Heav'n can dwell, "1 
Yet why must unoffending Argos feel 770 V 
The vengeance due to this unlucky steel? J 
On me, on me, let all thy fury fall, 
Nor err from me, since I deserve it all : 
Unless our desert cities please thy sight, 
Or funeral flames reflect a grateful light. 
Discharge thy shafts, this ready bosom 

rend. 
And to the shades a ghost triumphant 

send : 
But for my country let my fate atone ; 
Be mine the vengeance, as the crime my 

own." 

* Merit distress'd impartial Heav'n re- 

lieves : 780 

Unwelcome life relenting Phcebus gives; 
For not the vengeful Power, that glow'd 

with rage. 
With such amazing virtue durst engage. 
The clouds dispers'd, Apollo's wrath ex- 
pired, 
And from the wond'ring God th' unwilling 

youth retired. 
Thence we these altars in his temple raise, 
And offer annual honours, feasts, and 

praise ; 
These solemn feasts propitious Phoebus 

please ; 
These honours, still renew'd, his ancient 

wrath appease. 

* But say, illustrious guest ! (adjoin'd 

the King) 790 

What name you bear, from what high race 

you spring ? 
The noble Tydeus stands confess'd, and 

known 
Our neighbour prince, and heir of Calydon: 
Relate your fortunes, while the friendly 

night 
And silent hours to various talk invite.' 
The Theban bends on earth his gloomy 

eyes. 
Confused, and sadly thus at length re- 
plies : — 
* Before these altars how shall I proclaim, 
O gen'rous Prince ! my nation or my 

name, 
Or thro' what veins our ancient blood has 

roll'd ? 800 

Let the sad tale for ever rest untold ! 
Yet if, propitious to a wretch unknown. 
You seek to share in sorrows not your own, 
Know then from Cadmus I derive my 

race, 



14 



EARLY POEMS 



Jocasta's son, and Thebes my native 

place.' 
To whom the King (who felt his gen'rous 

breast 
Touch'd with concern for his unhappy 

guest) 
Replies — ' Ah ! why forbears the son to 

name 
His wretched father, known too well by 

Fame ? 
Fame, that delights around the world to 

stray, 8io 

Scorns not to take our Argos in her way. 
Ev'n those who dwell where suns at dis- 
tance roll, 
In northern wilds, and freeze beneath the 

pole. 
And those who tread the burning Libyan 

lands, 
The faithless Syrtes, and the moving 

sands ; 
Who view the western sea's extremest 

bounds, 
Or drink of Ganges in their eastern 

grounds ; 
All these the woes of (Edipus have known. 
Your fates, your furies, and your haunted 

town. 
If on the sons the parents' crimes descend, 
What prince from those his lineage can 

defend ? 821 

Be this thy comfort, that 't is thine t' ef 

face. 
With virtuous acts, thy ancestors' dis 

grace. 
And be thyself the honour of thy race. 
But see J the stars begin to steal away, 
And shine more faintly at approaching 

day; 
Now pour the wine ; and in your tuneful 

lays 
Once more resound the great Apollo's 

praise.' 
* O father Phoebus ! whether Lycia's 

coast 
And snowy mountains thy bright presence 

boast ; - 830 

Whether to sweet Castalia thou repair, 
And bathe in silver dews thy yellow hair ; 
Or pleas'd to find fair Delos float no 

more. 
Delight in Cynthus and the shady shore ; 
Or choose thy seat in Ilion's proud abodes. 
The shining structures rais'd by lab'ring 

Gods: 



By thee the bow and mortal shafts are 

borne ; 
Eternal charms thy blooming youth adorn; 
Skill'd in the laws of secret Fate above, 
And the dark counsels of almighty Jove. 
'T is thine the seeds of future war to 

know, 841 

The change of sceptres and impending woe, 
When direful meteors spread thro' glowing 

air 
Long trails of light, and shake their blazing 

hair. 
Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durst 

aspire 
T' excel the music of thy heav'nly lyre ; 
Thy shafts avenged lewd Tityus' guilty 

flame, 
Th' immortal victim of thy mother's fame; 
Thy hand slew Python, and the dame vt'ho 

lost 
Her numerous offspring for a fatal boast. 
In Phlegyas' doom thy just revenge ap- 
pears, 851 
Condemn'd to furies and eternal fears ; 
He views his food, but dreads, with lifted 

eye, 
The mould'ring rock that trembles from on 

high. 
Propitious hear our prayer, O Power 

divine ! 
And on thy hospitable Argos shine ; 
Whether the style of Titan please thee 

more. 
Whose purple rays th' Achsemenes adore; 
Or great Osiris, who first taught the swain 
In Pharian fields to sow the golden grain; 
Or Mitra, to whose beams the Persian 

bows, 861 

And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows; 
Mitra ! whose head the blaze of light 

adorns. 
Who grasps the struggling heifer's lunar 

horns.' 

IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH 
POETS 

These imitations, with the exception of 
Silence (Lintot, 1712), were not published till 
1727. Pope says, however, that they were 
' done as early as the translations, some of 
them at fourteen and fifteen years old.' The 
Happy Life of a Country Parson must have 
been written later than the rest, as Pope did 
not know Swift till 1713. 



IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS 



15 



CHAUCER 

Women ben full of ragerie, 
Yet swinken not sans secresie. 
Thilke Moral shall ye understond, 
From schoole-boy's Tale of fayre Irelond ; 
Which to the Fennes hath him betake, 
To filehe the grey Dueke fro the Lake. 
Right then there passen by the way 
His Aunt, and eke her Daughters tway. 
Ducke in his trowses hath he hent, 
Not to be spied of ladies gent. 10 

' But ho ! our Nephew,' crieth one ; 

* Ho ! ' quoth another, * Cozen John ; * 
And stoppen, and lough, and callen out — 
This sely Gierke full low doth lout : 
They asken that, and talken this, 

' Lo, here is Coz, and here is Miss.' 
But, as he glozeth with speeches soote. 
The Ducke sore tickleth his Erse-roote : 
Fore-piece and buttons all-to-brest, 
Forth thrust a white neck and red crest. 20 
' Te-hee,' cried ladies ; clerke nought 

spake ; 
Miss stared, and grey Ducke crieth 

* quaake.' 
' O Moder, Moder ! ' quoth the Daughter, 

* Be thilke same thing Maids longen a'ter ? 
Bette is to pine on coals and chalke, 
Then trust on Mou whose yerde can talke.' 



SPENSER 

THE ALLEY 

In ev'ry Town where Thamis rolls his 

tyde, 
A narrow pass there is, with houses low, 
Where ever and anon the stream is eyed, 
And many a boat soft sliding to and fro : 
There oft are heard the notes of Infant 

Woe, 
The short thick Sob, loud Scream, and 

shriller Squall : 
How can ye, Mothers, vex your children 

so? 
Some play, some eat, some cack against 

the wall, 
And as they crouchen low, for bread and 

butter call. 

And on the broken pavement, here and 

there. 
Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie ; 



A brandy and tobacco shop is neare, 

And hens, and dogs, and hogs, are feeding 

by ; 
And here a sailor's jacket hangs to dry. 
At ev'ry door are sunburnt matrons seen, 
Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry ,' 
Now singing shrill, and scolding eft be- 
tween ; 
Scolds answer foul-mouth'd Scolds ; bad 
neighbourhood I ween. 

The snappish cur (the passengers' annoy) 

Close at my heel with yelping treble flies ; 

The whimp'ring Girl, and hoarser scream- 
ing Boy, 

Join to the yelping treble shrilling cries ; 

The scolding Quean to louder notes doth rise. 

And her full pipes those shrilling cries 
confound ; 

To her full pipes the grunting hog replies ; 

The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours 
round. 

And Curs, Girls, Boys, and Scolds, in the 
deep bass are drown'd. 

Hard by a sty, beneath a roof of thatch. 
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days 
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch. 
Cod, whiting, oyster, mackrel, sprat, or 

plaice : 
There learn'd she speech from tongues 

that never cease. 
Slander beside her like a magpie chatters. 
With Envy (spitting cat), dread foe to 

peace ; 
Like a curs'd cur. Malice before her clat- 
ters. 
And vexing ev'ry wight, tears clothes and 
all to tatters. 

Her dugs were mark'd by ev'ry Collier's 

hand. 
Her mouth was black as bull-dogs at the 

stall : 
She scratched, bit, and spared ne lace ne 

band. 
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all. 
Nay, ev'n the parts of shame by name 

would call : 
Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook. 
Would greet the man who turn'd him to 

the wall, 
And by his hand obscene the porter took, 
Nor ever did askance like modest virgin 

look. 



i6 



EARLY POEMS 



Such place hath Deptford, navy-building 

town, 
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of 

pitch ; 
Such Lambeth, envy of each band and 

gown, 
And Twick'nam such, which fairer scenes 

enrich, 
Grots, statues, urns, and Jo — u's dog and 

bitch. 
Ne village is without, on either side, 
All up the silver Thames, or all adown ; 
Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front 

are eyed 
Vales, spires, meand'ring streams, and 

Windsor's tow'ry pride. 



WALLER 

ON A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE 

Fair Charmer, cease ! nor make your 

Voice's prize 
A heart resign'd the conquest of your 

Eyes : 
Well might, alas ! that threaten'd vessel 

fail, 
Which winds and lightning both at once 

assail. 
We were too bless'd with these enchanting 

lays, 
Which must be heav'uly when an Angel 

plays : 
But killing charms your lover's death con- 
trive, 
Lest heav'nly music should be heard alive. 
Orpheus could charm the trees ; but thus a 

tree, 
Taught by your hand, can charm no less 

than he ; 
A poet made the silent wood pursue ; 
This vocal wood had drawn the poet too. 

ON A FAN OF THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN 

IN WHICH WAS PAINTED THE STORY OF CEPHALUS 
AND PROCRIS, WITH THE MOTTO ' AURA VENI ' 

Come, gentle air ! th' -3iolian shepherd 

said, 
While Procris panted in the secret shade ; 
Come, gentle air ! the fairer Delia cries, 
While at her feet her swain expiring 

lies. 



Lo, the glad gales o'er all her beauties 

stray. 
Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play : 
In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found. 
Nor could that fabled dart more surely 

wound : 
Both gifts destructive to the givers prove ; 
Alike both lovers fall by those they love. 
Yet guiltless too this bright destroyer lives, 
At random wounds, nor knows the wounds 

she gives ; 
She views the story with attentive eyes, 
And pities Procris while her lover dies. 



COWLEY 

THE GARDEN 

Fain would my Muse the flow'ry treasures 
sing, 

And humble glories of the youthful 
Spring ; 

Where op'ning roses breathing sweets dif- 
fuse. 

And soft carnations shower their balmy 
dews ; 

Where lilies smile in virgin robes of white. 

The thin undress of superficial light ; 

And varied tulips show so dazzling gay, 

Blushing in bright diversities of day. 

Each painted flow'ret in the lake below 

Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties 
grow ; lo 

And pale Narcissus, on the bank in vain 

Transformed, gazes on himself again. 

Here aged trees cathedral walks compose, 

And mount the hill in venerable rows ; 

There the green infants in their beds are 
laid. 

The garden's hope, and its expected shade. 

Here orange trees with blooms and pen- 
dants shine, 

And Vernal honours to their Autumn join; 

Exceed their promise in the ripen 'd store, 

Yet in the rising blossom promise more, ao 

There in bright drops the crystal fountains 
play, 

By laurels shielded from the piercing day; 

Where Daphne, now a tree as once a maid. 

Still from Apollo vindicates her shade; 

Still turns her beauties from th' invading 
beam. 

Nor seeks in vain for succour to the 
stream. 



IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS 



17 



The stream at ouce preserves her virgin 
leaves, 

At once a shelter from her boughs re- 
ceives, 

Where summer's beauty .midst of winter 
stays. 

And winter's coolness spite of summer's 
rays. 30 

WEEPING 

While Celia's tears make sorrow bright, 
Proud grief sits swelling in her eyes ; 

The sun, next those the fairest light, 
Thus from the ocean first did rise : 

And thus thro' mists we see the sun, 

Which else we durst not gaze upon. 

These silver drops, like morning dew, 
Foretell the fervor of the day : 

So from one cloud soft showers we view, 
And blasting lightnings burst away. 

The stars that fall from Celia's eye 

Declare our doom is drawing nigh. 

The baby in that sunny sphere 

So like a Phaeton appears, 
That Heav'n, the threaten'd world to spare. 

Thought fit to drown him in her tears ; 
Else might th' ambitious nymph aspire 
To set, like him, Heav'n too on fire. 



EARL OF ROCHESTER 

ON SILENCE 

Silence ! coeval with Eternity, 
Thou wert ere Nature's self began to be, 
'T was one vast nothing all, and all slept 
fast in thee. 

Thine was the sway ere Heav'n was 

form'd, or earth. 
Ere fruitful thought conceiv'd Creation's 

birth. 
Or midwife word gave aid, and spoke the 

infant forth. 

Then various elements against thee join'd, 
In one more various animal combin'd. 
And framed the clam'rous race of busy 
humankind. 



The tongue mov'd gently first, and speech 

was low, 
Till wrangling Science taught its noise and 

show. 
And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive 

foe. 

But rebel Wit deserts thee oft in vain ; 
Lost in the maze of words he turns again, 
And seeks a surer state, and courts thy 
gentle reign. 

Afflicted Sense thou kindly dost set free, 
Oppress'd with argumental tyraimy. 
And routed Reason finds a safe retreat in 
thee. 

With thee in private modest Dulness lies, 
And in thy bosom lurks in thought's dis- 
guise ; 
Thou varnisher of fools, and cheat of all 
the wise ! 

Yet thy indulgence is by both confest ; 
Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast, 
And 't is in thee at last that Wisdom seeks 
for rest. 

Silence, the knave's repute, the whore's 

good name. 
The only honour of the wishing dame ; 
The very want of tongue makes thee a 

kind of Fame. 

But couldst thou seize some tongues that 

now are free. 
How Church and State should be obliged 

to thee ! 
At Senate and at Bar how welcome wouldst 

thou be ! 

Yet speech, ev'n there, submissively with- 
draws 

From rights of subjects, and the poor 
man's cause ; 

Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the 
noisy Laws. 

Past services of friends, good deeds of 

foes, 
What fav'rites gain, and what the nation 

owes, 
Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms 

repose. 



i8 



EARLY POEMS 



The country wit, religion of the town, 
The courtier's learning, policy o' th' gown, 
Are best by thee express'd, and shiue in 
thee alone. 

The parson's cant, the lawyer's sophistry. 
Lord's quibble, critic's jest, all end in thee; 
All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally. 



EARL OF DORSET 

ARTEMISIA 

Tho' Artemisia talks by fits 

Of councils, classics, fathers, wits, 

Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke, 
Yet in some things methinks she fails : 
'T were well if she would pare her nails. 

And wear a cleaner smock. 

Haughty and huge as High Dutch bride. 
Such nastiness and so much pride 

Are oddly join'd by fate : 
On her large squab you find her spread. 
Like a fat corpse upon a bed. 

That lies and stinks in state. 

She wears no colours (sign of grace) 
On any part except her face ; 

All white and black beside : 
Dauntless her look, her gesture proud. 
Her voice theatrically loud. 

And masculine her stride. 

So have I seen, in black and white, 
A prating thing, a magpie hight. 

Majestically stalk ; 
A stately worthless animal. 
That plies the tongue, and wags the tail. 

All flutter, pride, and talk. 



PHRYNE 

Phryne had talents for mankind ; 
Open she was and unconfin'd, 

Like some free port of trade : 
Merchants unloaded here their freight, 
And agents from each foreign state 

Here first their entry made. 



Her learning and good breeding such, 
Whether th' Italian or the Dutch, 

Spaniards or French, came to her. 
To all obliging she 'd appear ; 
'T was Si Signior, 't was Yaw Mynheer^ 

'T was S^il vous plait, Monsieur. 

Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes, 
Still changing names, religions, climes. 

At length she turns a bride : 
In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades, 
She shines the first of batter'd jades. 

And flutters in her pride. 

So have I known those insects fair 
(Which curious Germans hold so rare) 

Still vary shapes and dyes ; 
Still gain new titles with new forms ; 
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms, 

Then painted butterflies. 



DR. SWIFT 
THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON 

Parson, these things in thy possessing 
Are better than the bishop's blessing : 
A wife that makes conserves ; a steed 
That carries double when there 's need ; 
October store, and best Virginia, 
Tythe pig, and mortuary guinea ; 
Gazettes sent gratis down and frank'd. 
For which thy patron 's weekly thank'd ; 
A large Concordance, bound long since ; 
Sermons to Charles the First, when prince ; 
A Chronicle of ancient standing ; 
A Chrysostom to smooth thy band in ; 
The Polyglott — three parts — my text, 
Howbeit — likewise — now to my next ; 
Lo here the Septuagiut — and Paul, 
To sum the whole — the close of all. 

He that has these may pass his life. 
Drink with the 'Squire, and kiss his wife ; 
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill, 
And fast on Fridays — if he will ; 
Toast Church and Queen, explain the news, 
Talk with Churchwardens about pews, 
Pray heartily for some new gift, 
And shake his head at Doctor S — t. 



PASTORALS 



19 



PASTORALS 



Rura mihi et rigui placeant in vallibus amnes, 
Flumina amem, sylvasque, iuglorius ! 

ViRG. 



The Pastorals, by Pope's account, were writ- 
ten at sixteen, in 1704. ' Beyond the fact that 
he systematically antedated his compositions in 
order to obtain credit for precocity,' says Court- 
hope, ' there is nothing improbable in the state- 
ment.' They were first published in 1709, in 

DISCOURSE ON PASTORAL 
POETRY 

There are not, I believe, a greater number 
of any sort of verses than of those which are 
called Pastorals ; nor a smaller than of those 
which are truly so. It therefore seems neces- 
sary to give some account of this kind of 
poem ; and it is ray design to comprise in this 
short paper the substance of those numerous 
dissertations that critics have made on the 
subject, without omitting any of their rules in 
my own favour. You will also find some 
points reconciled, about which they seem to 
differ, and a few remarks which, I think, have 
escaped their observation. 

The origin of Poetry is ascribed to that age 
which succeeded the creation of the world : 
and as the keeping of flocks seems to have 
been the first employment of mankind, the 
most ancient sort of poetry was probably pas- 
toral.^ It is natural to imagine, that the lei- 
sure of those ancient shepherds admitting and 
inviting some diversion, none was so proper to 
that solitary and sedentary life as singing ; and 
that in their songs they took occasion to cele- 
brate their own felicity. From hence a poem 
was invented, and afterwards improved to a 
perfect image of that happy time ; which, by 
giving us an esteem for the virtues of a former 
age, might recommend them to the present. 
And since the life of shepherds was attended 
with more tranquillity than any other rural 
employment, the poets chose to introduce their 
persons, from whom it received the name of 
Pastoral, 

A Pastoral is an imitation of the action of a 
shepherd, or one considered under that charac^ 
ter. The form of this imitation is dramatic, 
or narrative, or mixed of both : ^ the fable 
simple, the manners not too polite nor too rus- 
tic : the thoughts are plain, yet admit a little 
quickness and passion, but that short and flow- 

1 Fontenelle's Discourse on Pastorals, 

' Heinsius in Theocr. 

8 Rapin de Carm. Past. p. 2. 



Tonson's Sixth Miscellany. The Discourse on 
Pastoral Poetry did not appear till the edition of 
1717, but is here given the place which he de- 
sired for it at the head of the Pastorals : and 
the original footnotes, referring to critical au- 
thorities, are retained. 

ing : the expression humble, yet as pure as the 
language will afford ; neat, but not florid ; 
easy, and yet lively. In short, the fable, man- 
ners, thoughts, and expressions are full of the 
greatest simplicity in nature. 

The complete character of this poem con- 
sists in simplicity,^ brevity, and delicacy ; the 
two first of which render an eclogue natural, 
and the last delightful. 

If we would copy nature, it may be useful 
to take this idea along with us, that Pastoral 
is an image of what they call the golden age : 
so that we are not to describe our shepherds as 
shepherds at this day really are, but as they 
may be conceived then to have been, when the 
best of men followed the employment. To 
carry this resemblance yet further, it would 
not be amiss to give these shepherds some skill 
in astronomy, as far as it may be useful to that 
sort of life ; and an air of piety to the gods 
should shine through the poem, which so visi- 
bly appears in all the works of antiquity ; and 
it ought to preserve some relish of the old 
way of writing : the connection should be loose, 
the narrations and descriptions short,"* and the 
periods concise. Yet it is not sufficient that 
the sentences only be brief ; the whole ec- 
logue should be so too : for we cannot sup- 
pose poetry in those days to have been the 
business of men, but their recreation at vacant 
hours. 

But, with respect to the present age, nothing 
more conduces to make these composures nat- 
ural, than when some knowledge in rural 
affairs is discovered.^ This ma^' be made to 
sfcppear rather done by chance than on design, 
and sometimes is best shown by inference ; lest, 
by too much study to seem natural, we destroy 
that easy simplicity from whence arises the 
delight. For what is inviting in this sort of 
poetry proceeds not so much from the idea of 
that business, as of the tranquillity of a coun- 
try life. 

« Rapin, Riflex. sur VArt Poit. d^Arist. part ii. r^fl. 
xxvii. 
" Pref. to Virg. Past, in Dryd. Virg. 



20 



PASTORALS 



We must therefore use some illusion to ren- 
der a pastoral delightful ; and this consists in 
exposing the best side only of a shepherd's 
1 life, and in concealing its miseries.^ Nor is it 
I enough to introduce shepherds discoursing to- 
gether in a natural way ; but a regard must be 
had to the subject ; that it contain some par- 
ticular beauty in itself, and that it be different 
in every eclogue. Besides, in each of them a 
designed scene or prospect is to be presented to 
our view, which should likewise have its vari- 
ety. This variety is obtained, in a great de- 
gree, by frequent comparisons, drawn from the 
miost agreeable objects of the country ; by in- 
terrogations to things inanimate ; by beautiful 
digressions, but those short ; sometimes by in- 
sisting a little on circumstances ; and, lastly, 
by elegant turns on the words, which render 
the numbers extremely sweet and pleasing. 
As for the numbers themselves, though they 
are properly of the heroic measure, they should 
be the smoothest, the most easy and flowing 
imaginable. 

It is by rules like these that we ought to 
judge of Pastoral. And since the instructions 
given for any art are to be delivered as that 
art is in perfection, they must of necessity be 
derived from those in whom it is acknowledged 
so to be. It is therefore from the practice of 
Theocritus and Virgil (the only undisputed 
authors of Pastoral) that the critics have drawn 
the foregoing notions concerning it. 

Theocritus excels all others in nature and 
simplicity. The subjects of his Idyllia are 
purely pastoral ; but he is not so exact in his 
persons, having introduced reapers ^ and fisher- 
men as well as shepherds. He is apt to be too 
long in his descriptions, of which that of the 
cup in the first pastoral is a remarkable in- 
stance. In the manners he seems a little defec- 
tive, for his swains are sometimes abusive and 
immodest, and perhaps too much inclining to 
rusticity ; for instance, in his fourth and fifth 
Idyllia. But it is enough that all others 
learned their excellences from him, and that 
his dialect alone has a secret charm in it, 
which no other could ever attain. 

Virgil, who copies Theocritus, refines upon 
his original ; and, in all points where judgment 
is principally concerned, he is much superior to 
his master. Though some of his subjects are 
not pastoral in themselves, but only seem to be 
such, they have a wonderful variety in them, 
which the Greek was a stranger to.^ He ex- 
ceeds him in regularity and brevity, and falls 
short of him in nothing but simplicity and 
propriety of style ; the first of which, perhaps, 

1 Fontenelle's Discourse on Pastorals. 

2 OepiVrai, Idyl. x. and 'AXuit, Idyl. xxi. 



was the fault of his age, and the last of his 
language. 

Among the moderns their success has been 
greatest who have most endeavoured to make 
these ancients their pattern. The most con- 
siderable genius appears in the famous Tasso, 
and our Spenser. Tasso, in his Aminta, has 
as far excelled all the pastoral writers, as in 
his Gierusalemme he has outdone the epic 
poets of his country. But as this piece seems 
to have been the original of a new sort of 
poem, the pastoral comedy, in Italy, it cannot 
so well be considered as a copy of the ancients. 
Spenser's Calendar, in Mr. Dryden's opinion, is 
the most complete work of this kind which 
any nation has produced ever since the time of 
Virgil,^ Not but that he may be thought im- 
perfect in some few points : his eclogues are 
somewhat too long, if we compare them with 
the ancients ; he is sometimes too allegorical, 
and treats of matters of religion in a pastoral 
style, as the Mantuan had done before him ; he 
has employed the lyric measure, which is con- 
trary to the practice of the old poets ; his 
stanza is not still the same, nor always well 
chosen. This last may be the reason his ex- 
pression is sometimes not concise enough ; for 
the tetrastic has obliged him to extend his 
sense to the length of four lines, which would 
have been more closely confined in the couplet. 

In the manners, thoughts, and characters, 
he comes near to Theocritus himself ; though, 
notwithstanding all the care he has taken, he 
is certainly inferior in his dialect : for the 
Doric had its beauty and propriety in the time 
of Theocritus ; it was used in part of Greece, 
and frequent in the mouths of many of the 
greatest persons : whereas the old English and 
country phrases of Spenser were either entirely 
obsolete, or spoken only by people of the low- 
est condition. As there is a difference be- 
twixt simplicity and rusticity, so the expression 
of simple thoughts should be plain, but not 
clownish. The addition he has made of a cal- 
endar to his eclogues is very beautiful ; since 
by this, besides the general moral of innocence 
and simplicity, which is common to other au- 
thors of Pastoral, he has one peculiar to him- 
self ; he compares human life to the several 
seasons, and at once exposes to his readers a 
view of the great and little worlds, in their 
various changes and aspects. Yet the scrupu- 
lous division of his pastorals into months has 
obliged him either to repeat the same descrip- 
tion, in other words, for three months together, 
or, when it was exhausted before, entirely to 
omit it ; whence it comes to pass that some of 

5 Rapin, Refl. on Arist. part ii. refl. xxvii. — Pref. 
to the Eel. in Dryden's Virg. 
* Dedication to Virg. Eel. 



SPRING; OR, DAMON 



21 



his eclogues (as the sixth, eighth, and tenth 
for example) have nothing but their titles to 
distinguish them. The reason is evident, be- 
cause the year has not that variety in it to fur- 
nish every month with a particular description, 
as it may every season. 

Of the following eclogues I shall only say, 
that these four comprehend all the subjects 
which the critics upon Theocritus and Virgil 
will allow to be fit for Pastoral ; that they 
have as much variety of description, in respect 
of the several seasons, as Spenser's ; that, in 
order to add to this variety, the several times 
of the day are observed, the rural employ- 
ments in each season or time of day, and the 
rural scenes or places proper to such employ- 
ments, not without some regard to the several 
ages of man, and the different passions proper 
to each age. 

But after all, if they have any merit, it is to 
be attributed to some good old authors ; whose 
works, as I had leisure to study, so, I hope, 1 1 
have not wanted care to imitate. ' 



I 



SPRING; OR, DAMON 

TO SIR WILLIAM TRUMBULL 

First in these fields I try the sylvan 

strains, 
Nor blush to sport on Windsor's blissful 

plains : 
Fair Thames, flow gently from thy sacred 

spring, 
While on thy banks Sicilian Muses sing ; 
Let vernal airs thro' trembling osiers play. 
And Albion's cliffs resound the rural lay. 
You, that too wise for pride, too good 

for power, 
Enjoy the glory to be great no more, 
And carrying with you all the world can 

boast, 
To all the world illustriously are lost ! ro 
O let my Muse her slender reed inspire, 
Till in your native shades you tune the lyre : 
So when the nightingale to rest removes, 
The thrush may chant to the forsaken 

groves ; 
But charm'd to silence, listens while she 

sings, 
And all th' aerial audience clap their wings. 
Soon as the flocks shook off the nightly 

dews, 
Two swains, whom love kept wakeful, and 

the Muse, 



Pour'd o'er the whitening vale their fleecy 

care, 
Fresh as the morn, and as the season 

fair : 20 

The dawn now blushing on the mountain's 

side. 
Thus Daphuis spoke, and Strephon thus 

replied : 

DAPHNIS. 

Hear how the birds on ev'ry blooming 

spray 
With joyous music wake the dawning 

day! 
Why sit we mute, when early linnets 

sing, 
When warbling Philomel salutes the 

spring ? 
Why sit we sad, when Phosphor shines so 

clear, 
And lavish Nature paints the purple year ? 

STREPHON. 

Sing, then, and Damon shall attend the 

strain, 
While yon slow oxen turn the furrow'd 

plain. 30 

Here the bright crocus and blue violet 

glow ; , 

Here western winds on breathing roses y 

blow. 
I '11 stake yon lamb, that near the fountain 

plays. 
And from the brink his dancing shade 

surveys. 

DAPHNIS. 

And I this bowl, where wanton ivy twines, 
And swelling clusters bend the curling 

vines : 
Four figures rising from the work appear. 
The various seasons of the rolling year ; 
And what is that, which binds the radiant 

sky. 
Where twelve fair signs in beauteous order 

lie ? 40 

DAMON. 

Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses 

sing ; 
Now hawthorns blossom, now the daisies 

spring ; 
Now leaves the trees, and flowers adorn 

the ground : 
Begin, the vales shall every note rebound. 



22 



PASTORALS 



STREPHON. 

Inspire me, Phoebus, in my Delia's praise, 

With Waller's str«,ius, or Granville's mov- 
ing lays ! 

A milk-white bull shall at your altars 
stand, 

That threats a fight, and spurns the rising 
sand. 

DAPHNIS. 

O Love ! for Sylvia let me gain the prize. 
And make my tongue victorious as her 

eyes : 50 

No lambs or sheep for victims I '11 impart, 
Thy victim. Love, shall be the shepherd's 

heart. 

STREPHON. 

Me gentle Delia beckons from the plain, 
Then, hid in shades, eludes her eager 

swain ; 
But feigns a laugh to see me search 

around. 
And by that laugh the willing Fair is 

found. 

DAPHNIS. 

The sprightly Sylvia trips along the green ; 
She runs, but hopes she does not run un- 
seen. 
While a kind glance at her pursuer flies. 
How much at variance are her feet and 



eyes 



60 



STREPHON. 



O'er golden sands let rich Pactolus flow, 

And trees weep amber on the banks of 
Po; 

Blest Thames's shores the brightest beau- 
ties yield : 

Feed here, my lambs, I '11 seek no distant 
field. 

DAPHNIS. 

Celestial Venus haunts Idalia's groves ; 

Diana Cynthus, Ceres Hybla loves : 

If Windsor shades delight the matchless 

maid, 
Cynthus and Hybla yield to Windsor 

shade. 

STREPHON. 

All nature mourns, the skies relent in 
showers, 

Hush'd are the birds, and closed the droop- 
ing flowers ; 70 



If Delia smile, the flowers begin to spring, 
The skies to brighten, and the birds to 
sing. 

DAPHNIS. 

All Nature laughs, the groves are fresh 

and fair. 
The sun's mild lustre warms the vital air ; 
If Sylvia smiles, new glories gild the shore, 
And vanquish'd Nature seems to charm no 

more. 

STREPHON. 

In spring the fields, in autumn hills I love. 
At morn the plains, at noon the shady 

grove, 
But Delia always ; absent from her sight. 
Nor plains at morn, nor groves at noon 

delight. 80 

DAPHNIS. 

Sylvia 's like autumn ripe, yet mild as May, 
More bright than noon, yet fresh as early 

day : 
Ev'n spring displeases, when she shines not 

here, 
But bless'd with her, 't is spring throughout 

the year. 

STREPHON. 

Say, Daphnis, say, in what glad soil ap- 
pears 

A wondrous tree, that sacred monarchs 
bears ? 

Tell me but this, and I '11 disclaim the 
prize. 

And give the conquest -to thy Sylvia's 
eyes. 

DAPHNIS. 

Nay, tell me first, in what more happy fields 
The thistle springs, to which the lily yields: 
And then a nobler prize I will resign ; 91 
For Sylvia, charming Sylvia, shall be thine. 

DAMON. 

Cease to contend ; for, Daphnis, I decree 
The bowl to Strephon, and the lamb to 

thee. 
Blest swains, whose nymphs in ev'ry grace 

excel ; 
Blest nymphs, whose swains those graces 

sing so well ! 
Now rise, and haste to yonder woodbine 

bowers, 
A soft retreat from sudden vernal showers; 



SUMMER; OR, ALEXIS 



23 



The turf with rural dainties shall be 
erown'd, 

While opening blooms diffuse tiieir sweets 
around. 100 

For see ! the gath'ring flocks to shelter 
tend, 

And from the Pleiads fruitful showers de- 
scend. 

I'l 

SUMMER; OR, ALEXIS 

TO DR. GARTH 

A shepherd's boy (he seeks no better 

name) 
Led forth his flocks along the silver 

Thame, 
Where dancing sunbeams on the waters 

play'd 
And verdant alders form'd a quiv'ring 

shade. 
Soft as he mourn'd, the streams forgot to 

flow, 
The flocks around a dumb compassion 

show. 
The Naiads wept in ev'ry wat'ry bower. 
And Jove consented in a silent shower. 

Accept, O Garth ! the Muse's early lays, 
That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays; 
Hear what from love unpractis'd hearts 

endure, i r 

From love, the sole disease thou canst not 

cure. 
Ye shady beeches, and ye cooling 

streams, 
Defence from Phoebus', not from Cupid's 

beams, 

'To you I mourn ; nor to the deaf I sing : 
The woods shall answer, and their echo 

ring. 
The hills and rocks attend my doleful 

lay. 
Why art thou prouder and more hard than 

they? 
The bleating sheep with my complaints 

agree, 
They parch'd with heat, and I inflamed by 

thee. 20 

The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains. 
While in thy heart eternal Winter reigns. 
Where stray ye. Muses ! in what lawn or 

grove, 
While your Alexis pines in hopeless love ? 



In those fair fields where sacred Isis 

glides. 
Or else where Cam his winding vales di- 
vides ? 
As in the crystal spring I view my face, 
Fresh rising blushes paint the wat'ry glass; 
But since those graces please thy eyes no 

more, 
I shun the fountains which I sought be- 
fore. 30 
Once I was skill'd in ev'ry herb that grew, 
And ev'ry plant that drinks the morning 

dew; 
Ah, wretched shepherd, what avails thy art. 
To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy 

heart ! 
Let other swains attend the rural care. 
Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear : 
But nigh yon mountain let me tune my 

lays, 
Embrace my love, and bind my brows with 

bays. 
That flute is mine which Colin's tuneful 

breath 
Inspired when living, and bequeath'd in 

death : 40 

He said, ' Alexis, take this pipe, the same 
That taught the groves my Rosalinda's 

name.' 
But now the reeds shall hang on yonder 

tree. 
Forever silent, since despised by thee. 
Oh ! were I made by some transforming 

power 
The captive bird that sings within thy 

bower ! 
Then might my voice thy list'ning ears 

employ. 
And I those kisses he receives enjoy. 

And yet my numbers please the rural 

throng. 
Rough satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the 

song ; 5c 

The nymphs, forsaking ev'ry cave and 

spring. 
Their early fruit and milk-white turtles 

bring ; 
Each am'rous nymph prefers her gifts in 

vain. 
On you their gifts are all bestow'd again. 
For you the swaii>s the fairest flowers de- 

And in one garland all their beauties join ; 
Accept the wreath which you deserve alone, 
In whom all beauties are comprised in one. 



24 



PASTORALS 



See what delights in sylvan scenes ap- 
pear ! 59 

Descending Gods have found Elysium here. 

In woods bright Venus with Adonis stray'd, 

And chaste Diana haunts the forest-shade. 

Come, lovely nymph, and bless the silent 
hours, 

When swains from shearing seek their 
nightly bowers ; 

When weary reapers quit the sultry field, 

And, crown' d with corn, their thanks to 

Ceres yield. 
•This harmless grove no lurking viper hides. 

But in my breast the serpent Love abides. 

Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew, 

But your Alexis knows no sweets but you. 

O deign to visit our forsaken seats, 71 

The mossy fountains, and the green re- 
treats ! 

Where'er you walk, cool gcales shall fan the 

i\ glade; 

Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a 
shade ; 

Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers 
shall rise. 

And all things flourish where you turn 
your eyes. 

O ! how I long with you to pass my days. 

Invoke the Muses, and resound your 



praise 



Your praise the birds shall chant in ev'ry 
grove. 

And winds shall waft it to the powers 
above. 80 

But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' 
strain, 

The wond'ring forests soon should dance 
again ; 

The moving mountains hear the powerful 
call, 

And headlong streams hang list'ning in their 
fall! 
But see, the shepherds shun the noonday 
heat, 

The lowing herds to murmuring brooks 
retreat, 

To closer shades the panting flocks re- 
move : 

Ye Gods ! and is there no relief for love ? 

But soon the sun with milder rays de- 
scends 

To the cool ocean, where his journey 
ends. 90 

On me Love's fiercer flames forever prey, 

By night he scorches, as he burns by day. 



Ill 

AUTUMN; OR, HYLAS AND 
^GON 

TO MR. WYCHERLEY 

Beneath the shade a spreading beech dis- 
plays, 

Hylas and ^gon sung their rural lays ; 

This mourn'd a faithless, that an absent 
love, 

And Delia's name and Doris' fill'd the 
grove. 

Ye Mantuan Nymphs, your sacred succour 
bring, 

Hylas and Agon's rural lays I sing. 

Thou, whom the Nine with Plautus' wit 
inspire. 

The art of Terence, and Menander's fire ; 

Whose sense instructs us, and whose hu- 
mour charms. 

Whose judgment sways us, and whose 
spirit warms ! 10 

O, skill'd in Nature ! see the hearts of 
swaifcs, 

Their artless passions, and their tender 
pains. 
Now setting Phcebus shone serenely 
bright, 

And fleecy clouds were streak'd with purple 
light; 

When tuneful Hylas, with melodious moan, 

Taught rocks to weep, and made the moun- 
tains groan. 
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs 



away 



To Delia's ear the tender notes convey. 
As some sad turtle his lost love deplores, 
And with deep murmurs fills the sounding 

shores ; 20 

Thus, far from Delia, to the winds I 

mourn. 
Alike unheard, unpitied, and forlorn. 
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs 

along ! 
For her, the feather'd quires neglect their 

song; 
For her, the limes their pleasing shades 

deny ; 
' For her, the lilies hang their heads and die. 
Ye flowers that droop, forsaken by the 

spring. 
Ye birds that, left by Summer, cease to 

sing, 



AUTUMN; OR, HYLAS AND ^GON 



25 



Ye trees, that fade when Autumn-heats re- 



move. 



Say, is not absence death to those who', 
love ? 30 j 

Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs 



away 



Curs'd be the fields that cause my Delia's 

stay ! 
Fade ev'ry blossom, wither ev'ry tree, 
Die ev'ry flower, and perish all but she ! 
What have I said ? Where'er my Delia 

flies, 
Let Spring attend, and sudden flowers 

arise ! 
Let op'ning roses knotted oaks adorn, 
And liquid amber drop from ev'ry thorn ! 
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs 

along ! 
The birds shall cease to tune their ev'ning 

song, ^ 40 

The winds to breathe, the waving woods 

to move. 
And streams to murmur, ere I cease to 

love. 
Not bubbling fountains to the thirsty swain, 
Not balmy sleep to lab'rers faint with pain, 
Not showers to larks, nor sunshine to the 

bee. 
Are half so charming as thy sight to me. 
Go, gentle gales, and bear my sighs 

away ! 
Come, Delia, come ; ah, why this long de- 

lay? 
Thro' rocks and caves the name of Delia 

sounds, 
Delia, each cave and echoing rock re- 
bounds. 50 
Ye Powers, what pleasing frenzy soothes 

my mind ! 
Do lovers dream, or is my Delia kind ? 
She comes, my Delia comes ! — Now cease, 

my lay. 
And cease, ye gales, to bear my sighs 



away 



Next ^gon sung, while Windsor groves 
admired : 
Rehearse, ye Muses, what yourselves in- 
' spired. 
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful 
strain ! 
Of perjur'd Doris dying I complain : 
Here where the mountains, less'ning as 

they rise, 
Lose the low vales, and steal into the 
skies : 60 



While lab'ring oxen, spent with toil and 

heat. 
In their loose traces from the field retreat: 
While curling smokes from village-tops 

are seen. 
And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky 

green. 
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful 

lay! 
Beneath yon poplar oft we pass'd the day : 
Oft on the rind I carv'd her am'rous 

vows. 
While she with garlands hung the bending 

boughs : 
The garlands fade, the vows are worn 

away ; 
So dies her love, and so my hopes decay. 
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful 

strain ! 71 

Now bright Arcturus glads the teeming 

grain, 
Now golden fruits on loaded branches 

shine. 
And grateful clusters swell with floods of 

wine ; 
Now blushing berries paint the yellow 

grove : 
Just Gods ! shall all things yield returns 

but love ? 
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful 

lay ! 
The shepherds cry, *Thy flocks are left a 

prey' — 
Ah ! what avails it me the flocks to keep, 
Who lost my heart while I preserv'd my 

sheep ! 80 

Pan came, and ask'd, ' What magic caus'd 

my smart. 
Or what ill eyes malignant glances dart ? ' 
What eyes but hers, alas, have power to 

move ! 
And is there magic but what dwells in 

love? 
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful 

strains ! 
I '11 fly from shepherds, flocks, and flow'ry 

plains ; 
From shepherds, flocks, and plains, I may 

remove. 
Forsake mankind, and all the world — but 

Love ! 
I know thee. Love ! on foreign mountains 

bred. 
Wolves gave thee suck, and savage tigers 

fed. 90 



26 



PASTORALS 



Thou wert from iEtna's burning entrails 

torn, 
Got by fierce whirlwinds, and in thunder 
born ! 
Resound, ye hills, resound my mournful 
lay ! ' 
Farewell, ye woods ; adieu the light of 

day ! 
One leap from yonder cliff shall end my 

pains, 
No more, ye hills, no more resound my 
strains ! 
- I Thus sung the shepherds till th' approach 

I ^ of night, 

fy ! The skies yet blushing with departing 
^ \ light, 

When fallen dews with spangles deck'd the 
glade, 
^ And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry 
shade. loo 



IV 
WINTER ; OR, DAPHNE 

TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. TEMPEST 
LYCIDAS. 

Thyrsis ! the music of that murm'ring 

spring 
Is not so mournful as the strains you sing ; 
Nor rivers winding thro' the vales below 
So sweetly warble, or so smoothly flow. 
Now sleeping flocks on their soft fleeces 

lie, 
The moon, serene in glory, mounts the 

sky ; 
While silent birds forget their tuneful 

lays, 
O sing of Daphne's fate, and Daphne's 

praise ! 

THYRSIS. 

Behold the groves that shine with silver 

frost, 
Tbeiir beauty wither'd, and their verdure 

lost. lo 

Here shall I try the sweet Alexis' strain, 
That call'd the list'oing Dryads to the 

plain ? 
Thames heard the numbers as he flow'd 

along, 
And bade his willows learn the moving 



LYCIDAS. 

So may kind rains their vital moisture 

yield. 
And swell the future harvest of the field. 
Begin : this charge the dying Daphne gave, 
And said, ' Ye shepherds, sing around my 

grave ! ' 
Sing, while beside the shaded tomb I 

mourn, 
And with fresh bays her rural shrine 

adorn. 20 

THYRSIS. ^^^' 

Ye gentle Muses, leave your crystal spring, 
Let Nymphs and Sylvans cypress garlands 

bring : 
Ye weeping Loves, the stream with myrtles 

hide. 
And break your bows, as when Adonis 

died ! 
And with your golden darts, now useless 

grown. 
Inscribe a verse on this relenting stone : 
' Let Nature change, let Heav'n and Earth 

deplore. 
Fair Daphne 's dead, and Love is now no 

more ! ' 
'T is done ; and Nature's various charms 

decay. 
See gloomy clouds obscure the cheerful 

day ! 30 

Now hung with pearls the dropping trees 

appear. 
Their faded honours scatter'd on her bier. 
See, where on earth the flow'ry glories lie, 
With her they flourish'd, and with her they 

die. 
Ah, what avail the beauties Nature wore ? 
Fair Daphne 's dead, and Beauty is no 

more ! 
For her the flocks refuse their verdant 

food, 
The thirsty heifers shun the gliding flood; 
The silver swans her hapless fate bemoan. 
In notes more sad than when they sing 

their own ; 40 

In hollow caves sweet Echo silent lies, 
Silent, or only to her name replies ; 
Her name with pleasure once she taught 

the shore ; 
Now Daphne 's dead, and Pleasure is no 

more ! 
Ko grateful dews descend from ev'ning 

skies, 
Nor morning odours from the flowers arise; 



/kJL 






WINTER; OR, DAPHNE 



27 



No rich perfumes refresh the fruitful field, 
Nor fragrant herbs their native incense 

yield. 
The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death, 
Lainent the ceasing of a sweeter breath ; 50 
Th' industrious bees neglect their golden 

store : 
Fair Daphne 's dead, and sweetness is no 

more ! 
No more the mountain larks, while 

Daphne sings, 
Shall, list'ning in mid-air, suspend their 

wings ; 
No more the birds shall imitate her lays, 
Or, hush'd with wonder, hearken from the 

sprays ; 
No more the streams their murmurs shall 

forbear, 
A sweeter music than their own to hear ; 
But tell the reeds, and tell the vocal shore, 
Fair Daphne 's dead, and music is no 

more ! 60 

Her fate is whisper'd by the gentle breeze. 
And told in sighs to all the trembling 

trees ; 
The trembling trees, in every plain and 

wood, 
Her fate remurmur to the silver flood ; 
The silver flood, so lately calm, appears 
Swell'd with new passion, and o'erflows 

with tears ; 
The winds and trees and floods her death 

deplore. 
Daphne, our Grief, our Glory now no more ! 
But see ! where Daphne wond'ring 

mounts on high 
Above the clouds, above the starry sky ! 70 
Eternal beauties grace the shining scene, 



Fields ever fresh, and groves for ever 
green ! 

There while you rest in amaranthine bow- 
ers, 

Or from those meads select unfading 
flowers. 

Behold us kindly, who your name implore, 

Daphne, our Goddess, and oiu' Grief no 
more ! 

LYCIDAS. 

How all things listen, while thy Muse com- 
plains ! 

Such silence waits on Philomela's strains. 

In some still ev'ning, when the whisp'ring 
breeze 

Pants on the leaves, and dies upon the 
trees. 80 

To thee, bright Goddess, oft a lamb shall 
bleed. 

If teeming ewes increase my fleecy breed. 

While plants their shade, or flowers their 
odours give, 

Thy name, thy honour, and thy praise shall 
live ! 

THYRSIS. 

But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews ; 

Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse ; 

Sharp Boreas blows, and Nature feels de- 
cay. 

Time conquers all, and we must Time obey.l 

Adieu, ye vales, ye mountains, streams, and 
groves ; 

Adieu, ye shepherds' rural lays and loves ; 

Adieu, my flocks ; farewell, ye sylvan 
crew ; 91 

Daphne, farewell ; and all the world adieu ! 



Kjf^^yitM^^^.J^Xr 



71 



^'wi XAjT^M ^ ^-ifuJ-t ^-'^ 



28 



WINDSOR FOREST 



) 



w 



aNDSOR FOREST-, co'Xt^^./ 



TO THE 



_ RIGHT HON. GEORGE LORD LANSDOWN 



v\-«i/Cvt-- 



^Non injussa cano : te nostrae, Vare, mjrricae, 

Te Nemus omne canet : nee Phoebo gratior ulla est, 
Quam sibi quae Vari praescripsit pagina uomen. 

ViRG. Eel. vi. 10-12. 



' This poem,' says Pope, ' was written at 
two different times: the first part of it, which 
relates to the country, in 1704, at the same 
time with the Pastorals ; the latter part was not 
added till the year 1713, in which it was pub- 
lished.' The first 289 lines belong to the 
earlier date. The rest of the poem, with its 
celebration of the Peace of Utrecht, was added 
at the instance of Lord Lansdown, the Gran- 

Thy forest, Windsor ! and thy green re- 
treats, 

At once the Monarch's and the Muse's 
seats, 

Invite my lays. Be present, Sylvan Maids ! 

Unlock your springs, and open all your 
shades. 

Granville commands : your aid, O Muses, 
bring ! 

What muse for Granville can refuse to sing ? 
The groves of Eden, vanish'd now so 

Live in description, and look green in song : 

These, were my breast inspired with equal 
flame, 

Like them in Beauty, should be like in 
Fame. 10 

Here hills and vales, the woodland and the 
plain, 

Here earth and water seem to strive again ; 

Not chaos - like together crush'd and 
bruis'd, 

But, as the world, harmoniously confused: 

Where order in variety we see. 

And where, tlio' all things differ, all agree. 

Here waving groves a chequer'd scene dis- 
play. 

And part admit, and part exclude the day ; 

As some coy nymph her lover's warm ad- 
dress 

Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress. 

There, interspers'd in lawns and opening 
glades, 21 

Thin trees arise that shun each other's 
shades. 



ville of the opening lines. The aim was obvi-. 
ously that Pope should do for the peaceful V 
triumph of Utrecht what Addison had done for ) 
Marlborough's victory at Blenheim in 1704/ 
It is printed here because the conclusion was 
an afterthought, and in spite of it the poem as 
a whole ' substantially belongs,' as Courthope 
remarks, ' to the Pastoral period.' Pope ranked 
it among his ' juvenile poems.' 

Here in full light the russet plains extend : 
There wrapt in clouds the bluish hills as- 
cend. 
E v'n the wild heath displays her purple dyes, 
And 'midst the desert fruitful fields arise, 
That crown'd with tufted trees and spring- 
ing corn. 
Like verdant isles, the sable waste adorn. 
Let India boast her plants, nor envy we 
The weeping amber or the balmy tree, 30 
While by our oaks the precious loads are 

borne, 
And realms commanded which those trees 

adorn. 
Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight, 
Tho' Gods assembled grace his tow'ring 

height, 
Than what more humble mountains offer 

here, 
Where, in their blessings, all those Gods 

appear. 
See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona I 
crown'd, / 

Here blushing Flora paints th' enamell'dl 

ground, 
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand, 
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's 
hand ; 40 

Rich Industry sits smiling on the plains, 
And peace and plenty tell, a Stuart reigns. 
Not thus the land appear'd in ages past, 
A dreary desert, and a gloomy waste, 
To savage beasts and savage laws a prey, 
And Kings more furious and severe than 
they; 



^ D^' 



WINDSOR FOREST 



29 



Who claim'd the skies, dispeopled air and 

floods, 
The lonely lords of empty wilds and woods: 
Cities laid waste, they storm'd the dens 

and eaves 
(For wiser brutes were backward to be 

slaves) ; 50 

What could be free, when lawless beasts 

obey'd, 
And ev'n the elements a Tyrant sway'd ? 
In vain kind seasons swell'd the teeming 

grain, 
Soft showers distill'd, and suns grew warm 

in vain : 
The swain with tears his frustrate labour 

yields, 
And famish'd dies amidst his ripen'd fields. 
What wonder then, a beast or subject slain 
Were equal crimes in a despotic reign ? 
Both doom'd alike, for sportive tyrants 

bled, 
But while the subject starv'd, the beast 

was fed. 60 

Proud Nimrod first the bloody chase began, 
A mighty hunter, and his prey was man : 
Our haughty Norman boasts that barb'rous 

name, 
And makes his trembling slaves the royal 

game. 
The fields are ravish'd from th' industrious 

swains, 
From men their cities, and from Gods their 

fanes ; 
The levell'd towns with weeds lie cover'd 

o'er ; 
The hollow winds thro' naked temples 

roar ; 68 

Round broken columns clasping ivy twin'd; 
O'er heaps of ruin stalk'd the stately hind ; 
The fox obscene to gaping tombs retires, 
And savage bowlings fill the sacred quires. 
Aw'd by his nobles, by his commons curst, 
Th'^Qppressor ruled tyrannic where he durst, 
Stretch'd o'er the poor and church his iron 

rod, 
And serv'd alike his vassals and his God. 
W^hom ev'n the Saxon spar'd, and bloody 

Dane, 
The wanton victims of his sport remain. 
But see, the man who spacious regions gave 
A waste for beasts, himself denied a 

grave ! 80 

Stretch'd on the lawn his second hope sur- 
vey, 
At once the chaser, and at once the prey ! 



Lo Rufus, tugging at the deadly dart. 
Bleeds in the forest like a wounded hart ! ^^ 
Succeeding mouarchs heard the subjects' 

cries. 
Nor saw displeas'd the peaceful cottage 

rise : ■" 

Then gath'ring flocks on unknown moun- 
tains fed, f 
O'er sandy wilds were yellow harvests * 

spread. 
The forest wonder'd at th' unusual grain. 
And secret transports touch'd the conscious 
s_wain. '90 

Fair Liberty, Britannia/s Goddess, rears f-' •■a^ 
Her cheerful head, and leads the golden '-^ 
years. 
Ye vig'rous Swains ! while youth fer- 
ments your blood. 
And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood, 
Now range the hills, the gameful woods 

beset. 
Wind the shrill horn, or spread the waving 

net. 
When milder Autumn Summer's heat suc- 
ceeds. 
And in the new-shorn field the partridge 

feeds. 
Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds, 
Panting with hope, he tries the furrow'd 
grounds ; 100 

But when the tainted gales the game be- 
tray, 
Couch'd close he lies, and meditates the 

prey ; 
Secure they trust th' unfaithful field beset. 
Till hov'ring o'er them sweeps the swelling 

net. 
Thus (if small things we may with great 

compare) 
When Albion sends her eager sons to war, 
Some thoughtless town, with ease and 

plenty blest. 
Near, and more near, the closing lines in- 
vest ; 
Sudden they seize th' amaz'd, defenceless 

prize. 
And high in air Britannia's standard flies. 
See ! from the brake the whirring pheas- 
ant springs, m 
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings : 
Short is his joy ; he feels the fiery wound, 
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the 

ground. 
Ah ! what avail his glossy, varying dyes, 
His purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes, 



30 



WINDSOR FOREST 



The vivid green his shining plumes un- 
sold, 

His painted wings, and breast that flames 
with gold ? 
Nor yet, when meist Arcturus clouds the 
sky, 

The woods and fields their pleasing toils 
deny. 120 

To plains with well-breathed beagles we 
repair, 

And trace the mazes of the circling hare 
<"(Beasts, urged by us, their fellow beasts 

\ pursue, 

And learn of man each other to undo). 

With slaught'ring guns th' unwearied 
fowler roves. 

When frosts have whiteu'd all the naked 
groves, 

Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'er- 
shade. 

And lonely woodcocks haunt the -vvat'ry 
glade. 

He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye ; 

Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen 
sky : 130 

Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, 

The clam'rous lapwings feel the leaden 
death ; 

Oft, as the mounting larks their notes pre- 
pare. 

They fall, and leave their little lives in 
air. 
In genial Spring, beneath the quivering 
shade, 

Where cooling vapours breathe along the 
mead, 

The patient fisher takes his silent stand, 

Intent, his angle trembling in his hand: 

With looks unmov'd, he hopes the scaly 
breed, ' 

And eyes the dancing cork and bending 
reed. 140 

Our plenteous streams a various race sup- 
ply, 

The bright-eyed perch with fins of Tyrian 

The silver eel, in shining volumes roU'd, 
The yellow carp, in scales bedropp'd with 

gold. 
Swift trouts, diversified with crimson 

stains. 
And pikes, the tyrants of the watVy_ plains. 
Now Cancer glows with Phoemis' fiery 

car ; 
The youth rush eager to the sylvan war, 



Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks 

surround, 
Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening 

hound. 150 

Th' impatient co urser pants in every vein, 
And, pawing, seems to beat the distant 

plain : 
Hills, vales, and floods appear already 

cross'd, 
And ere he starts, a thousand steps are 

lost. 
See the bold youth strain up the threat- 

'ning steep. 
Rush thro' the thickets, down the valleys 

sweep. 
Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager 

speed. 
And earth rolls back beneath the flying 

steed. 
Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain, 
Th' immortal huntress, and her virgin 

train ; 160 

Nor envy, Windsor ! since thy shades have 

seen 
As bright a Goddess, and as chaste a 

Queen ; 
Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan 

reign. 
The earth's fair light, and Empress of the 

Main. 
Here too, 'tis sung, of old Diana stray'd, 
And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor 

shade ; 
Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove. 
Seek the clear spring, or haunt the path- 
less grove ; 
Here arm'd with silver bows, in early 

dawn, 
Her buskin'd virgins traced the dewy 

lawn. 170 

Above the rest a rural nymph was famed. 

Thy offspring, Thames ! the fair Lodona 

named 
(Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast. 
The Muse shall sing, and what she sings 

shall last). 
Scarce could the Goddess from her nymph 

be known 
But by the crescent and the golden zone. 
She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the 

care ; 
A belt her waist, a fillet binds her haii- ; 
A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds, 
And with lier dart the flying deer she 

wounds. 180 



WINDSOR FOREST 



31 



It chanced as, eager of the chase, the maid 
Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd. 
Pan saw and lov'd, and, burning with de- 
sire, 
Pursued her flight ; her flight increas'd his 

fire. 
Not half so swift the trembling doves can 

fly, 

When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid 

sky; 
Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves. 
When thro' the clouds he drives the trem- 
bling doves : 
As from the God she flew with furious 

pace, 
Or as the God, more furious, urged the 

chase. 190 

Now fainting, sinking, pale, the Nymph 

appears ; 
Now close behind, his sounding steps she 

hears ; 
And now his shadow reach'd her as she 

run. 
His shadow lengthen 'd by the setting sun ; 
And now his shorter breath, with sultry air, 
Pants on her neck, and fans her parting 

hair. 
In vain on Father Thames she calls for aid, 
Nor could Diana help her injur'd maid. 
Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor 

pray'd in vain: 
* Ah, Cynthia ! ah — tho' banish'd from thy 

train, 200 

Let me, O let me, to the shades repair, 
My native shades — there weep, and mur- 
mur there ! ' 
She said, and melting as in tears she lay, 
In a soft silver stream dissolv'd away. 
The silver stream her virgin coldness 

keeps, 
For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps; 
Still bears the name the hapless virgin 

bore, 
And bathes the forest where she ranged 

before. 
In her chaste current oft the Goddess 

laves, 
And with celestial tears augments the 

waves. 210 

Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies 
The headlong mountains and the downward 

skies ; 
The wat'ry landscape of the pendent 

woods, 
And absent trees that tremble in the floods : 



In the clear azure gleam the flocks are 
seen, 

And floating forests paint the waves with 
green ; 

Thro' the fair scene roll slow the ling'ring 
streams, 

Then foaming pour along, and rush into 
the Thames. 
Thou, too, great Father of the British 
Floods ! 

With joyful pride survey'st our lofty 
woods ; 220 

Where tow'ring oaks their growing hon- 
ours rear. 

And future navies on thy shores appear. 

Not Neptune's self from ail his streams re- 
ceives 

A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives. 

No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear, 

No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear. 

Nor Po so swells the fabling poet's lays. 

While led along the skies his current 
strays. 

As thine, which visits Windsor's famed 
abodes, 

To grace the mansion of our earthly Gods : 

Nor all his stars above a lustre show, 231 

Like the bright beauties on thy banks be- 
low; 

Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion 
still. 

Might change Olympus for a nobler hill. 
Happy the man whom this bright court 
approves, 

His Sov'reign favours, and his Country 
loves: 

Happy next him, who to these shades re- 
tires. 

Whom Nature charms, and whom the Muse 
inspires: 

Whom humbler joys of home-felt quiet 
please. 

Successive study, exercise, and ease. 240 

He gathers health from herbs the forest 
yields. 

And of their fragrant physic spoils the 
fields: 

With chemic art exalts the mineral powers. 

And draws the aromatic souls of flowers: 

Now marks the course of rolling orbs on 
high; 

O'er figured worlds now travels with his 
eye; 

Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store. 

Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er; 



32 



WINDSOR FOREST 



Or wand'ring thoughtful in the silent wood, 
Attends the duties of the wise and good, 250 
T' observe a mean, be to himself a friend, 
To^folloK Nature, and regard his end; 
Or looks on Heav'n with more than mortal 

eyes. 
Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies, 
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam, 
Survey the region, and confess her home! 
Such was the life great Scipio once ad- 
mired: — 
Thus Atticus, and Trumbull thus retired. 

Ye sacred Nine ! that all my soul possess. 
Whose raptures fire me, and whose visions 
bless, 260 

Bear me, O bear me to sequester'd scenes, 
The bowery mazes, and surrounding greens ; 
To Thames's banks, which fragrant breezes 

fill, 
Or where ye Muses sport on Cooper's hill. 
(On Cooper's hill eternal wreaths shall 

grow, 
While lasts the mountain, or while Thames 

shall flow.) 
I seem thro' consecrated walks to rove; 
I hear soft music die along the grove: 
Led by the sound, I roam from shade to 

shade. 
By godlike Poets venerable made: 270 

Here his first lays majestic Denham sung; 
There the last numbers flow'd from Cow- 
ley's tongue. 
Oh early lost! what tears the river shed, 
When the sad pomp along his banks was 

led! 
His drooping swans on every note expire, 
And on his willows hung each Muse's lyre. 
Since Fate relentless stopp'd their heav- 
'nly voice, 
No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice ; 
Who now shall charm the shades where 

Cowley strung 
His living harp, and lofty Denham sung ? 
But hark! the groves rejoice, the forest 
rings! 281 

Are these revived, or is it Granville sings? 
'Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our soft re- 
treats, 
And call the Muses to their ancient seats; 
To paint anew the flowery sylvan scenes. 
To crown the forests with immortal greens. 
Make Windsor- hills in lofty numbers rise, 
And lift her turrets nearer to the skies; 
To sing those honours you deserve to wear, 
And add new lustre to her silver star! 290 



Here noble Surrey felt the sacred rage, 
Surrey, the Granville of a former age : 
Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance, 
Bold in the lists, and graceful in the 

dance : 
In the same shades the Cupids tuned his 

lyre. 
To the same notes of love and soft desire; 
Fair Geraldine, bright object of his vow. 
Then fill'd the groves, as heav'nly Mira 
now. 
Oh wouldst thou sing what heroes Wind- 
sor bore. 
What Kings first breathed upon her winding 
shore, 300 

Or raise old warriors, whose ador'd remains 
In weeping vaults her hallow'd earth con- 
tains! 
With Edward's acts adorn the shining page. 
Stretch his long triumphs down thro' every 

age. 
Draw Monarchs chain'd, and Cressi's glori- 
ous field, 
The lilies blazing on the regal shield: 
Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colours 

fall. 
And leave inanimate the naked wall. 
Still in thy song should vanquish'd France 

appear. 
And bleed for ever under Britain's spear. 3 10 
Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn. 
And palms eternal flourish round his urn. 
Here o'er the martyr-king the marble 

weeps. 
And, fast beside him, once-fear'd Edward 

sleeps. 
Whom not th' extended Albion could con- 
tain, 
From old Bellerium to the northern main; 
The grave unites; where ev'n the great 

find rest, 
And blended lie th' oppressor and th' op- 
prest! 
Make sacred Charles's tomb for ever 
known 
(Obscure the place, and uninscribed the 
stone); 320 

Oh fact accurs'd ! what tears has Albion 

shed, 
Heav'ns! what new wounds! and how her 

old have bled! 
She saw her sons with purple death expire/i 
Her sacred domes involv'd in rolling fire, / 
A dreadful series of intestine wars. 
Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars. 



WINDSOR FOREST 



33 



At length great Anna said, ' Let discord 

cease! ' 
She said! the world obey'd, and all was 

peace! 
In that blest moment from his oozy bed 
Old father Thames advanced his rev'rend 

head; 330 

His tresses dropp'd with dews, and o'er the 

stream 
His shining horns diffused a golden gleam : 
Graved on his urn appear' d the moon, that 

guides 
His swelling waters and alternate tides; 
The figured streams in waves of silver 

roll'd, 
And on her banks Augusta rose in gold. 
Around his throne the sea-born brothers 

stood, 
Who swell with tributary urns his flood: 338 
First the famed authors of liis ancient name; 
The winding Isis, and the fruitful Thame; 
The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd ; 
The Lodden slow, with verdant alders 

crown'd; 
Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands 

lave; 
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave : 
The blue, transparent Vandalis appears; 
The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears; 
And sullen Mole, that hides his diving 

flood ; 
And silent Darent, stain'd with Danish 

blood. 
High in the midst, upon his urn re- 

clin'd 
(His sea-green mantle waving with the 

wind), ^ 350 

The God appear'd: he turn'd his azure 

eyes 
Where Windsor-domes and pompous tur- 
rets rise; 
Then bow'd and spoke ; the winds forget to 

roar. 
And the hush'd waves glide softly to the 

shore. 
' Hail, sacred Peace ! hail, long-expected 

days. 
That Thames's glory to the stars shall 

raise! 
Tho' Tiber's streams immortal Rome be- 
hold. 
The' foaming Hermus swells with tides of 

gold. 
From Heav'n itself the' sev'nfold Nilus 

flows, 



And 



on a hundred realms be- 

Muse's 

361 
their 



harvests 

stows; 
These now no more shall be the 

themes, 
Lost in my fame, as in the sea 

streams. 
Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons 

shine, 
And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine ; 
Let barb'rous Ganges arm a servile train, 
Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign. 
No more my sons shall dye with British 

blood 
Red Iber's sands, or Ister's foaming flood: 
Safe on my shore each unmolested swain 
Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded 

grain; 370 

The shady empire shall retain no trace 
Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase ; 
The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are 

blown. 
And arms employ'd on birds and beasts 

alone. 
Behold! th' ascending villas on my side 
Project long shadows o'er the orystal tide ; 
Behold! Augusta's glitt'ring spires in- 
crease. 
And temples rise, the beauteous works of 

Peace. 
I see, I see, where two fair cities bend 
Their ample bow, a new Whitehall as- 
cend! 
There mighty nations shall inquire their 

doom, 3^,1 

The world's great oracle in times to come ; 
There Kings shall sue, and suppliant states 

be seen 
Once more to bend before a British Queen. 
*Thy trees, fair Windsor! now shall 

leave their woods, 
And half thy forests rush into my floods, 
Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross dis- 
play 
To the bright regions of the rising day; 
Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters 

roil. 
Where clearer flames glow round the 

frozen pole ; 390 

Or under southern skies exalt their sails. 
Led by new stars, and borne by spicy 

gales! 
For me the balm shall bleed, and amber 

flow. 
The coral redden, and the ruby glow,. 
The pearly shell its lucid globe infold, 



34 



WINDSOR FOREST 



And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to 
gold. 

The time shall come, when, free as seas or 
wind, 

Unbounded Thames shall flow for all man- 
kind, 

Whole nations enter with each swelling 
tide, 

And seas but join the regions they divide; 

Earth's distant ends our glory shall be- 
hold, 401 

And the new world launch forth to seek the 
old. 

Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the 
tide, 

And feather'd people crowd my wealthy 
side; 

And naked youths and painted chiefs ad- 
mire 

Our speech, our colour, and our strange at- 
tire! 

O stretch thy reign, fair Peace! from shore 
to shore. 

Till conquest cease, and slavery be no 
more; 

Till the freed Indians in their native groves 

Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable 
loves ; 410 

Peru once more a race of kings behold, 

And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold. 

Exiled by thee from earth to deepest 
Hell, 

In brazen bonds shall barb'rous Discord 
dwell: 



Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care, 
And mad Ambition shall attend her there: 
There purple Vengeance, bathed in gore, 

retires, 
Her weapons blunted, and extinct her fires: 
There hated Envy her own snakes shall 

feel, 
And Persecution mourn her broken wheel: 
There Faction roar. Rebellion bite her 

chain, 421 

And gasping Furies thirst for blood in 

vain.' 
Here cease thy flight, nor with unhal- 

low'd lays 
Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden 

days: 
The thoughts of Gods let Granville's verse 

recite. 
And bring the scenes of opening fate to 

light. 
My humble Muse, in unambitious strains. 
Paints the green forests and the flowery 

plains. 
Where Peace descending bids her olives 

spring. 
And scatters blessings from her dovelike 

wing. 430 

Ev'n I more sweetly pass my careless 

days, 
Pleas'd in the silent shade with empty 

praise; 
Enough for me that to the list'ning swains 
First in these fields I sung the sylvan 

strains. 



JANUARY AND MAY 



35 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



JANUARY AND MAY: OR, THE 
MERCHANT'S TALE 

Pope says that this ' translation ' was done 
at sixteen or seventeen years of ag-e. It 
was first published, with the Pastorals, in 
1709, in Tonson's sixth Miscellany. Eventually 
Pope grouped the Chaucer imitations with 
Eloisa to Abelard, the translations from Ovid 
and Statius and the brief Imitations of English 
Poets. To this collection be prefixed this Ad- 
vertisement : — 

' The following Translations were selected 
from many others done by the Author in his 
youth ; for the most part indeed but a sort of 
Exercises, while he was improving himself in 
the Languages, and carried by his early bent 
to Poetry to perform them rather in Verse than 
Prose. Mr. Dryden's Fables came out about 
that time, which occasioned the Translations 
from Chaucer. They were first separately 
printed in Miscellanies by J. Tonson and B. 
Lintot, and afterwards collected in the Quarto 
Edition of 1717. The Imitations of English 
Authors, which are added at the end, were done 
as early, some of them at fourteen or fifteen 
years old ; but having also got into Miscella- 
nies, we have put them here together to com- 
plete this Juvenile Volume.' 

Warburton asserts that Pope did not intend 
to include this group of poems in the final edi- 
tion of his works. 

There liv'd in Lombardy, as authors 

write, 
In days of old, a wise and worthy Knight; 
Of gentle manners, as of gen'rous race, 
Blest with much sense, more riches, and 

some grace : 
Yet, led astray by Venus' soft delights. 
He scarce could rule some idle appetites: 
For long ago, let priests say what they 

could, 
Weak sinful laymen were but flesh and 

blood. 
But in due time, when sixty years were 

o'er, 9 

He vow'd to lead this vicious life no more ; 
Whether pure holiness inspired his mind, 
Or dotage turn'd his brain, is hard to find ; 
But his high courage prick'd him forth to 

wed, 
And try the pleasures of a lawful bed. 



This was his nightly dream, his daily care, 
And to the heav'nly Powers his constant 

prayer, 
Once, ere he died, to taste the blissful life 
Of a kind husband and a loving wife. 
These thoughts he fortified with reasons 
still 
(For none want reasons to confirm their 

will). 20 

Grave authors say, and witty poets sing. 
That honest wedlock is a glorious thing : 
But depth of judgment most in him ap- 
pears 
Who wisely weds in his maturer years. 
Then let him choose a damsel young and 

fair, 
To bless his age, and bring a worthy heir; 
To soothe his cares, and, free from noise 

and strife, 
Conduct him gently to the verge of life. 
Let sinful bachelors their woes deplore, 
Full well they merit all they feel, and 

more : 30 

Unaw'd by precepts, human or divine. 
Like birds and beasts, promiscuousiy they 

join ; 
Nor know to make the present blessing 

last. 
To hope the future, or esteem the past; 
But vainly boast the joys they never tried, 
And find divulged the secrets they would 

hide. 
The married man may bear bis yoke with 

ease, 
Secure at once himself and Heav'n to 

please ; 
And pass his inoffensive hours away, 
In bliss all night, and innocence all day: 40 
Tho' fortune change, his constant spouse 

remains. 
Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains. 
But what so pure which envious tongues 

will spare ? 
Some wicked Wits have libell'd all the 

Fair. 
With matchless impudence they style a 

wife 
The dear-bought curse and lawful plague 

of life, 
A bosom serpent, a domestic evil, 
A night-invasion, and a midday-devil. 



36 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



Let not the wise these sland'rous words re- 
gard, 
But curse the bones of ev'ry lying bard. 50 
All other goods by Fortune's hand are 

giv'n, 
A wife is the peculiar gift of Heav'n. 
Vain Fortune's favours, never at a stay. 
Like empty shadows pass and glide away; 
One solid comfort, our eternal wife, 
Abundantly supplies us all our life: 
This blessing lasts (if those who try say 

true) 
As long as heart can wish — and longer 
too. 
Our grandsire Adam, ere of Eve pos- 
sess'd, 
Alone, and ev'n in Paradise unbless'd, 60 
With mournful looks the blissful scene 

survey'd, 
And wander'd in the solitary shade. 
The Maker saw, took pity, and bestow'd 
Woman, the last, the best reserv'd of 
God. 
A Wife ! ah gentle Deities ! can he 
That has a wife e'er feel adversity ? 
Would men but follow what the sex ad- 
vise, 
All things would prosper, all the world 

grow wise. 
*T was by Rebecca's aid that Jacob won 
His father's blessing from an elder son: 70 
Abusive Nabal ow'd his forfeit life 
To the wise conduct of a prudent wife: 
Heroic Judith, as old Hebrews show, 
Preserv'd the Jews, and slew th' Assyrian 

foe: 
At Hester's suit the persecuting sword 
Was sheath'd, and Israel liv'd to bless the 
Lord. 
These weighty motives January the sage 
Maturely ponder'd in his riper age ; 
And charm'd with virtuous joys, and sober 

life. 
Would try that Christian comfort call'd a 
wife. 80 

His friends were summon'd on a point so 

nice 
To pass their judgment, and to give ad- 
vice; 
But fix'd before, and well resolv'd was he 
(As men that ask advice are wont to be). 
* My friends,' he cried (and cast a 
mournful look 
Around the room, and sigh'd before he 
spoke), 



' Beneath the weight of threescore years I 

bend. 
And, worn with cares, am hastening to my 

end. 
How I have liv'd, alas ! you know too 

well — 
In worldly follies which I blush to tell; 90 
But gracious Heav'n has oped my eyes at 

last, 
With due regret I view my vices past, 
And, as the precept of the church decrees, 
Will take a wife, and live in holy ease. 
But since by counsel all things should be 

done, 
And many heads are wiser still than one; 
Choose you for me, who best shall be con- 
tent 
When my desire 's approv'd by your con- 
sent. 
' One caution yet is needful to be told. 
To guide your choice ; this wife must not 

be old : 100 

There goes a saying, and 't was shrewdly 

said, 
Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed. 
My soul abhors the tasteless dry embrace 
Of a stale virgin with a winter face : 
In that cold season Love but treats his 

guest 
With bean-straw, and tough forage at the 

best. 
No crafty widows shall approach my bed ; 
Those are too wise for bachelors to wed. 
As subtle clerks by many schools are made, 
Twice married dames are mistresses o' th' 

trade: no 

But young and tender virgins, ruled with 

ease. 
We form like wax, and mould them as we 

please. 
* Conceive me, Sirs, nor take my sense 

amiss; 
'T is what concerns my soul's eternal bliss; 
Since if I found no pleasure in my spouse. 
As flesh is frail, and who (God help me) 

knows ? 
Then should I live in lewd adultery. 
And sink downright to Satan when I die: 
Or were I curs'd with an unfruitful bed, 
The righteous end were lost for which I 

wed; 120 

To raise up seed to bless the Powers above, 
And not for pleasure only, or for love. 
Think not I dote ; 't is time to take a wife. 
When vig'rous blood forbids a chaster life: 



JANUARY AND MAY 



37 



Those that are blest with store of grace 
divine, 

May live like saints by Heav'n's consent 
and mine. 
' And since I speak of wedlock, let me 
say, 

(As, thank my stars, in modest truth I 
may) 

My limbs are active, still I 'm sound at 
heart. 

And a new vigour springs in ev'ry part. 130 

Think not my virtue lost, tho' time has 
shed 

These rev'rend honours on my hoary head: 

Thus trees are crown'd with blossoms 
white as snow. 

The vital sap then rising from below. 

Old as I am, my lusty linibs appear 

Like winter-greens, that flourish all the 
year. 

Now, Sirs, you know to what I stand in- 
clin'd, 

Let ev'ry friend with freedom speak his 
mind.' 
He said; the rest in diff'rent parts di- 
vide; 

The knotty point was urged on either 
side : 140 

Marriage, the theme on which they all 
declaim'd. 

Some prais'd with wit, and some with rea- 
son blamed. 

Till, what with proofs, objections, and re- 
plies. 

Each wondrous positive and wondrous wise, 

There fell between his brothers a debate: 

Placebo this was call'd, and Justin that. 
First to the knight Placebo thus begun, 

(Mild were his looks, and pleasing was his 
tone) 

* Such prudence. Sir, in all your words ap- 
pears. 

As plainly proves Experience dwells with 
years ! 150 

Yet you pursue sage Solomon's advice, 

To work by counsel when affairs are nice : 

But, with the wise man's leave, I must^ 
protest, I 

So may my soul arrive at ease and rest, [ 

As still I hold your own advice the best. ^ 
' Sir, I have liv'd a courtier all my days, 

And studied men, their manners, and their 
ways ; 

And have observ'd this useful maxim still. 

To let my betters always have their will. 



* Nay, if my lord affirm'd that black was 

white, 160 

My word was this, " Your Honour 's in the 

right." 
Th' assuming Wit, who deems himself so 

wise 
As his mistaken patron to advise, 
Let him not dare to vent his dangerous 

thought ; 
A noble fool was never in a fault. 
This, Sir, affects not you, whose ev'ry word 
Is weigh'd with judgment, and befits a 

Lord : 
Your will is mine ; and is (I will maintain) 
Pleasing to God, and should be so to Man ; 
At least your courage all the world must 

praise, 170 

Who dare to wed in your declining days. 
Indulge the vigour of your mounting 

blood, 
And let gray fools be indolently good, 
Who, past all pleasure, damn the joys of 

sense. 
With rev'rend Dulness and grave Impo- 
tence.' 
Justin, who silent sate, and beard the 

man. 
Thus with a philosophic frown began : 

' A heathen author, of the first degree, 
(Who, tho' not Faith, had Sense as well as 

we) 179 

Bids us be certain our concerns to trust 
To those of gen'rous principles and just. 
The venture 's greater, I '11 presume to 

say, 
To give your person, than your goods 

away : 
And therefore. Sir, as you regard your 

rest. 
First learn your lady's qualities at least : 
Whether she 's chaste or rampant, proud or 

civil. 
Meek as a saint, or haughty as the devil ; 
Whether an easy, fond, familiar Fool, 
Or such a Wit as no man e'er can rule. 
'T is true, perfection none must hope to 

find 190 

In all this world, much less in woman- 
kind; 
But if her virtue prove the larger share. 
Bless the kind Fates and think your fortune 

rare. 
Ah, gentle Sir, take warning of a friend, 
Who knows too well the state you thus 

commend ; 



38 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



And spite of all his praises must declare, 
All he can find is bondage, cost, and care. 
Heav'n knows I shed full many a private 

tear, 
And sigh in silence lest the world should 

hear ; 
While all my friends applaud my blissful 

life, 200 

And swear no mortal 's happier in a wife : 
Demure and chaste as any vestal nun. 
The meekest creature that beholds the 

sun ! 
But by th' immortal Powers I feel the pain, 
And he that smarts has reason to complain. 
Do what you list, for me ; you must be 

sage, 
And cautious sure ; for wisdom is in age : 
But at these years to venture on the Fair ! 
By him who made the ocean, earth, and 

air, 209 

To please a wife, when her occasions call. 
Would busy the most vig'rous of us all. 
And trust me, sir, the chastest you can 

choose, 
Will ask observance, and exact her dues. 
If what I speak my noble lord offend, 
My tedious sermon here is at an end.' 
' 'T is well, 't is wondrous well,' the 

Knight replies, 

* Most worthy kinsman, faith, you 're 

mighty wise ! 
We, Sirs, are fools ; and must resign the 

cause 
To heath'nish authors, proverbs, and old 

saws.' 
He spoke with scorn, and turn'd another 

way : 220 

* What does my friend, my dear Placebo, 

say?' 
' I say,' quoth he, ' by Heav'n the man 's 

to blame. 
To slander wives, and wedlock's holy 

name.' 
At this the council rose without delay; 
Each, in his own opinion, went his way; 
With full consent, that, all disputes ap- 

peas'd. 
The Knight should marry when and where 

he pleas'd. 
Who now but January exults with joy ? 
The charms of wedlock all his soul employ : 
Each nymph by turns his wavering mind 

possess'd, 230 

And reign'd the short-lived tyrant of his 

breast ; 



Whilst fancy pictured ev'ry lively part. 
And each bright image wander'd o'er his 

heart. 
Thus, in some public forum fix'd on high, 
A mirror shows the figures moving by; 
Still one by one, in swift succession, pass 
The gliding shadows o'er the polish'd 

glass. 
This lady's charms the nicest could not 

blame. 
But vile suspicions had aspers'd her fame ; 
That was with Sense, but not with Virtue 

blest ; 240 

And one had Grace that wanted all the 

rest. 
Thus doubting long what nymph he should 

obey. 
He fix'd at last upon the youthful May. 
Her faults he knew not (Love is always 

blind). 
But every charm revolv'd within his mind: 
Her tender age, her form divinely fair, 
Her easy motion, her attractive air. 
Her sweet behaviour, her enchanting face, 
Her moving softness, and majestic grace. 
Much in his prudence did our Knight re- 
joice, 250 
And thought no mortal could dispute his 

choice : 
Once more in haste he summon'd ev'ry 

friend. 
And told them all their pains were at an 

end. 
* Heav'n, that (said he) inspired me first to 

wed, 
Provides a consort worthy of my bed : 
Let none oppose th' election, since on 

this 
Depends my quiet and my future bliss. 
*A dame there is, the darling of my 

eyes. 
Young, beauteous, artless, innocent, and 

wise ; 
Chaste, tho' not rich ; and, tho' not nobly 

born, 260 

Of honest parents, and may serve my turn. 
Her will I wed, if gracious Heav'n so 

please. 
To pass my age in sanctity and ease ; 
And thank the Powers, I may possess 

alone 
The lovely prize, and share my bliss with 

none ! 
If you, my friends, this virgin can procure, 
My joys are full, my happiness is sure. 



JANUARY AND MAY 



39 



* One only doubt remains : full oft, I 've 

heard, 

By casuists grave and deep divines averr'd. 

That 't is too much for human race to know 

The bliss of Heav'n above and earth be- 
low : 271 

Now should the nuptial pleasures prove so 
great, 

To match the blessings of the future state, 

Those endless joys were ill exchanged for 
these : 

Then clear this doubt, and set my mind at 
ease.' 
This Justin heard, nor could his spleen 
control, 

Touch'd to the quick, and tickled at the 
soul. 

' Sir Knight,' he cried, ' if this be all you 
dread, 

Heav'n put it past a doubt whene'er you 
wed; 

And to my fervent prayers so far consent, 

That, ere the rites are o'er, you may re- 
pent ! 281 

Good Heav'n, no doubt, the nuptial state 
approves, 

Since it chastises still what best it loves. 

* Then be not, Sir, abandon'd to de- 

spair; 

Seek, and perhaps you '11 find among the 
Fair 

One that may do your business to a hair ; ^ 

Not ev'n in wish your happiness delay. 

But prove the scourge to lash you on your 
way: 

Then to the skies your mounting soul shall 
go, 

Swift as an arrow soaring from the bow ! 

Provided still, you moderate your joy, 291 

Nor in your pleasures all your might em- 
ploy : 

Let Reason's rule your strong desires abate, 

Nor please too lavishly your gentle mate. 

Old wives there are, of judgment most 
acute, 

Who solve these questions beyond all dis- 
pute ; 

Consult with those, and be of better cheer ; 

Marry, do penance, and dismiss your fear.' 
So said, they rose, nor more the work 
delay'd : 

The match was offer'd, the proposals made. 

The parents, you may think, would soon 
comply ; 301 

The old have int'rest ever in their eye. 



Nor was it hard to move the lady's mind ; 

When Fortune favours, still the Fair are 
kind. 
I pass each previous settlement and 
deed, 

Too long for me to write, or you to read ; 

Nor will with quaint impertinence display 

The pomp, the pageantry, the proud array. 

The time approach'd ; to church the par- 
ties went, 

At once with carnal and devout intent : 

Forth came the priest, and bade th' obedi- 
ent wife 311 

Like Sarah or Rebecca lead her life ; 

Then pray'd the Powers the fruitful bed to 
bless. 

And make all sure enough with holiness. 
And now the palace gates are open'd' 
wide. 

The guests appear in order, side by side. 

And, placed in state, the bridegroom and 
the bride. 

The breathing Hute's soft notes are heard 
around, 

And the shrill trumpets mix their silver 
sound ; 

The vaulted roofs with echoing music ring, 

These touch the vocal stops, and those the 
trembling string. 321 

Not thus Amphion tuned the warbling lyre, 

Nor Joab the sounding clarion could in- 
spire, 

Nor fierce Theodamas, whose sprightly 
strain 

Could swell the soul to rage, and fire the 
martial train. 
Bacchus himself, the nuptial feast to 
grace, 

(So poets sing) was present on the place : 

And lovely Venus, Goddess of Delight, 

Shook high her flaming torch in open 
sight, > 

And danced around, and smiled on ev'ry 
Knight: 330 _ 

Pleas'd her best servant would his courage 

try, 

No less in wedlock than in liberty. 

Full many an age old Hymen had not 

spied 
So kind a bridegroom, or so bright a bride. 
Ye Bards ! renown'd among the tuneful 

throng 
For gentle lays, and joyous nuptial song, 
Think not your softest numbers can display 
The matchless glories of this blissful day ; 



40 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



The joys are such as far transcend your 

rage, 
When tender youth has wedded stooping 

age. 340 

The beauteous dame sat smiling at the 

board, 
And darted am'rous glances at her lord. 
Not Hester's self, whose charms the He- 
brews sing, 
E'er look'd so lovely on her Persian King : 
Bright as the rising sun in summer's day. 
And fresh and blooming as the month of 

May! 
The joyful knight survey'd her by his side. 
Nor envied Paris with his Spartan bride: 
Still as his mind revolv'd with vast delight 
Th' entrancing raptures of th' approaching 

night, ^ 350 

Restless he sat, invoking every Power 
To speed his bliss, and haste the happy 

hour. 
Meantime the vig'rous dancers beat the 

ground, 
And songs were sung, and flowing bowls 

went round. 
With od'rous spices they perfumed the 

place. 
And mirth and pleasure shone in ev'ry face. 

Damian alone, of all the menial train. 
Sad in the midst of triumphs, sigh'd for 

pain, 
Damian alone, the Knight's obsequious 

Squire, 359 

Consumed at heart, and fed a secret fire. 
His lovely mistress all his soul possess'd ; 
He look'd, he languish'd, and could take no 

rest: 
His task perform'd, he sadly went his way. 
Fell on his bed, and loath'd the light of day : 
There let him lie; till his relenting dame 
Weep in her turn, and waste in equal 

flame. 
The weary sun, as learned poets write. 
Forsook th' horizon, and roll'd down the 

light; ^ 
While glitt'ring stars his absent beams 

supply, 
And night's dark mantle overspread the 

sky. ^ 370 

Then rose the guests, and as the time re- 
quired. 
Each paid his thanks, and decently retired. 
The foe once gone, our Knight prepared 

t 'undress, 
So keen he was, and eager to possess: 



But first thought fit th' assistance to receive. 
Which grave physicians scruple not to give: 
Satyrion near, with hot eringoes stood, 
Cantharides, to fire the lazy blood. 
Whose use old Bards describe in luscious 

rhymes. 
And Critics learn'd explain to modern 

times. 380 

By this the sheets were spread, the bride 

undress'd. 
The room was sprinkled, and the bed was 

bless 'd. 
What next ensued beseems not me to say; 
'T is sung, he labour'd till the dawning day ; 
Then briskly sprung from bed, with heart 1 

so light, I 

As all were nothing he had done by night, [ 
And sipp'd his cordial as he sat upright. J 
He kiss'd his balmy spouse with wanton 

play, 
And feebly sung a lusty roundelay: 389 

Then on the couch his weary limbs he cast; 
For ev'ry labour must have rest at last. 
But anxious cares the pensive Squire op- 

prest. 
Sleep fled his eyes, and Peace forsook his 

breast; 
The raging flames that in his bosom dwell, 
He wanted art to hide, and means to tell : 
Yet hoping time th' occasion might betray, 
Composed a sonnet to the lovely May; 
Which, writ and folded with the nicest art, 
He wrapt in silk, and laid upon his heart. 
When now the fourth revolving day was 

run, 400 

('T was June, and Cancer had receiv'd the 

sun) 
Forth from her chamber came the beaute- 
ous bride; 
The good old Knight mov'd slowly by her 

side. 
High mass was sung; they feasted in the 

hall; 
The servants round stood ready at their 

call. 
The Squire alone was absent from the 

board. 
And much his sickness griev'd his worthy 

lord. 
Who pray'd his spouse, attended with her 

train, 
To visit Damian, and divert his pain. 
Th' obliging dames obey'd with one con- 
sent: 410 
They left the hall, and to his lodging went. 



JANUARY AND MAY 



41 



The female tribe surround him as he lay, 
And close beside him sat the gentle May : 
Where, as she tried his pulse, he softly 

drew 
A heaving sigh, and cast a mournful view! 
Then gave his bill, and bribed the Powers 

divine. 
With secret vows to favour his design. 

Who studies now but discontented May? 
On her soft couch uneasily she lay: 
The lumpish husband snored away the 

night, 420 

Till coughs awaked him near the morning 

light. 
What then he did, I '11 not presume to tell, 
Nor if she thought herself in Heav'n or Hell: 
Honest and dull in nuptial bed they lay. 
Till the bell toll'd, and all arose to pray. 

Were it by forceful Destiny decreed. 
Or did from Chance, or Nature's power 

proceed ; 
Or that some star, with aspect kind to love, 
Shed its selectest influence from above; 429 
Whatever was the cause, the tender dame 
Felt the first motions of an infant flame; 
Receiv'd th' impressions of the lovesick 

Squire, 
And wasted in the soft infectious fire. 
Ye Fair, draw near, let May's example 

move 
Your gentle minds to pity those who love! 
Had some fierce tyrant in her stead been 

found. 
The poor adorer sure had hang'd or 

drown'd: 
But she, your sex's mirror, free from pride. 
Was much too meek to prove a homicide. 
But to my tale: — Some sages have de- 

fin'd 440 

Pleasure the sov'reign bliss of humankind: 
Our Knight (who studied much, we may 

suppose) 
Derived his high philosophy from those; 
For, like a prince, he bore the vast expense 
Of lavish pomp, and proud magnificence: 
His house was stately, his retinue gay. 
Large was his train, and gorgeous his array. 
His spacious garden, made to yield to none, 
Was compass'd round with walls of solid 

stone ; 
Priapns could not half describe the grace 
(Tho' God of gardens) of this charming 

place: 451 

A place to tire the rambling wits of France 
In long descriptions, and exceed Romance: 



Enough to shame the gentlest bard that 

sings 
Of painted meadows, and of purling 

springs. 
Full in the centre of the flowery ground ' 
A crystal fountain spread its streams 

around. 
The fruitful banks with verdant laurels 

crown'd: 
About this spring (if ancient Fame say 

true) 
The dapper Elves their moonlight sports 

pursue: 460 

Their pygmy King, and little fairy Queen, 
In circling dances gambol'd on the green. 
While tuneful sprites a merry concert 

made, 
And airy music warbled thro' the shade. 

Hither the noble Knight would oft repair 
(His scene of pleasure, and peculiar care) ; 
For this he held it dear, and always bore 
The silver key that lock'd the garden door. 
To this sweet place in summer's sultry heat 
He used from noise and bus'ness to re- 
treat; 470 
And here in dalliance spend the livelong 

day. 
Solus cum sola, with his sprightly May: 
For whate'er work was undischarg'd abed. 
The duteous Knight in this fair garden sped. 
But ah! what mortal lives of bliss se- 
cure? 
How short a space our worldly joys endure! 
O Fortune, fair, like all thy treach'rous 

kind, 
But faithless still, and wav'ring as the 

wind ! 
O painted monster, form'd mankind to 

cheat, 479 

With pleasing poison, and with soft deceit ! 
This rich, this am'rous, venerable Knight, 
Amidst his ease, his solace, and delight. 
Struck blind by thee, resigns his days to 

grief. 
And calls on death, the wretch's last relief. 
The rage of jealousy then seiz'd his 

mind, 
For much he fear'd the faith of woman- 
kind. 
His wife, not suffer'd from his side to 

stray, 
Was captive kept; he watch'd her night 

and day, 
Abridg'd her pleasures, and confin'd her 

sway. 489 J 



> 



42 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



Full oft Ir tears did hapless May complain, 
And sigh'd full oft; but sigh'd and wept in 

vain; 
She look'd on Damian with a lover's eye ; 
For oh, 'twas fix'd; she must possess or 

die! 
Nor less impatience vex'd her am'rous 

Squire, 
Wild with delay, and burning with desh'e. 
Watch'd as she was, yet could he not re- 
frain 
By secret writing to disclose his pain: 
The dame by signs reveal'd her kind in- 
tent. 
Till both were conscious what each other 

meant, 
Ah! gentle Knight, what would thy eyes 

avail, 500 

Tho' they could see as far as ships can 

sail? 
'T is better, sure, when blind, deceiv'd to 

be. 
Than be deluded when a man can see! 

Argus himself, so cautious and so wise, 
Was overwatch'd, for all his hundred eyes: 
So many an honest husband may, 't is 

known. 
Who, wisely, never thinks the case his own. 
The dame at last, by diligence and care. 
Procured the key her Knight was wont to 

bear; 509 

She took the wards in wax before the fire, 
And gave th' impression to the trusty 

Squire. 
By means of this some wonder shall appear. 
Which, in due place and season, you may 

hear. 
Well sung sweet Ovid, in the days of 

yore. 
What sleight is that which love will not 

explore! 
And Py ramus and Thisbe plainly show 
The feats true lovers, when they list, can 

do: 
Tho' watch'd and captive, yet in spite of 

all. 
They found the art of kissing thro' a wall. 
But now no longer from our tale to ' 

stray, 520 

It happ'd, that once upon a summer's day 
Our rev'rend Knight was urged to am'- 
rous play: 
He rais'd his sponse ere matin-bell was 

rung, 
And thus his morning canticle he sung: 



* Awake, my love, disclose thy radiant 

eyes; 
Arise, my wife, my beauteous lady, rise! 
Hear how the doves with pensive notes 

complain, 
And in soft murmurs tell the trees their 

pain: 
The winter 's past ; the clouds and tempests 

fly; 

The sun adorns the fields, and brightens all 
the sky. 530 

Fair without spot, whose ev'ry charming 
part 

My bosom wounds, and captivates my 
heart! 

Come, and in mutual pleasures let 's en- 
gage, 

Joy of my life, and comfort of my age.' 
This heard, to Damian straight a sign 
she made 

To haste before ; the gentle Squire obey'd: 

Secret and undescried he took his way. 

And ambush'd close behind an arbour lay. 
It was not long ere January came, 

And hand in hand with him his lovely 
dame; 540 

Blind as he was, not doubting all was 
sure. 

He turn'd the key, and made the gate se- 
cure. 

* Here let us walk,' he said, ' observ'd 

by none. 

Conscious of pleasures to the world un- 
known: 

So may my soul have joy, as thou, my 
wife. 

Art far the dearest solace of my life ; 

And rather would I choose, by Heav'n 
above, 

To die this instant, than to lose thy love. 

Reflect what truth was in my passion 
shown. 

When, unendowed, I took thee for my 
own, 550 

And sought no treasure but thy heart 
alone. 

Old as I am, and now deprived of sight. 

Whilst thou art faithful to thy own true 
Knight, 

Nor age, nor blindness, robs me of de- 
light. 

Each other loss with patience I can bear, 

The loss of thee is what I only fear. 
' Consider then, my lady and my wife, 

The solid comforts of a virtuous life. 



JANUARY AND MAY 



43 



As first, the love of Christ himself you 

gain; 559 

Next, your own honour undefiled maintain ; 
And, lastly, that which sure your mind 

must move, 
My whole estate shall gratify your love: 
Make your own terms, and ere to-morrow's 

sun 
Displays his light, by Heav'n it shall be done 
I seal the contract with a holy kiss. 
And will perform — by this, my dear, and 

this. 
Have comfort, Spouse, nor think thy lord 

unkind ; 
'Tis love, not jealousy, that fires my mind: 
For when thy charms my sober thoughts 
_ engage, 569 

And join'd to them my own unequal age. 
From thy dear side I have no power to 

part, 
Such secret transports warm my melting 

heart. 
For who that once possess'd those heav'nly 

charms. 
Could live one moment absent from thy 

arms ? ' 
He ceas'd, and May with modest grace 

replied 
(Weak was her voice, as while she spoke 

she cried): 
* Heav'n knows (with that a tender sigh 

she drew) 
I have a soul to save as well as you ; 
And, what no less you to my charge com- 
mend, 579 
My dearest honour, will to death defend. 
To you in holy church I gave my hand, 
And join'd my heart in wedlock's sacred 

band: 
Yet after this, if you distrust my care. 
Then hear, my lord, and witness what I 

swear: 
First may the yawning earth her bosom 

rend. 
And let me hence to Hell alive descend; 
Or die the death I dread no less than Hell, 
Sew'd in a sack, and plunged into a well; 
Ere I my fame by one lewd act disgrace, 
Or once renounce the honour of my race. 
For know. Sir Knight, of gentle blood I 

came; 591 

I loathe a whore, and startle at the name. 
But jealous men on their own crimes reflect. 
And learn from thence their ladies to sus- 
pect : 



Else why these needless cautions, Sir, to me ? 
These doubts and fears of female con- 
stancy ? 
This chime still rings in every lady's ear, 
The only strain a wife must hope to hear.* 
Thus while she spoke a sidelong glance 

she cast. 
Where Damain kneeling worship'd as she 

past. 600 

She saw him watch the motions of her eye, 
And singled out a pear tree planted nigh: 
'Twas charged with fruit that made a 

goodly show, 
And hung with dangling pears was every 

bough. 
Thither th' obsequious Squire address'd his 

pace, 
And climbing, in the summit took his 

place ; 
The Knight and Lady walk'd beneath in 

view. 
Where let us leave them, and our tale 

pursue. 
'T was now the season when the glorious 

sun 
His heav'nly progress through the Twins 

had run; 610 

And Jove, exalted, his mild influence 

yields, 
To glad the glebe, and paint the flowery 

fields: 
Clear was the day, and Phoebus, rising 

bright, 
Had streak'd the azure firmament with 

light; 
He pierc'd the glitt'ring clouds with golden 

streams. 
And warm'd the womb of earth with genial 

beams. 
It so befell, in that fair morning tide 
The fairies sported on the garden side. 
And in the midst their monarch and his 

bride. 
So featly tripp'd the light-foot Ladies 

round, 620 

The Knights so nimbly o'er the green- 
sward bound. 
That scarce they bent the flowers, or 

touch'd the ground. 
The dances ended, all the fairy train 
For pinks and daisies search'd the flowery 

plain. 
While on a bank reclin'd of rising green. 
Thus, with a frown, the King bespoke his 

Queen. 



44 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



* 'T is too apparent, argue what you can, 
The treachery you women use to man : 

A thousand authors have this truth made 

out, 
And sad experience leaves no room for 

doubt. 630 

* Heav'n rest thy spirit, noble Solomon, 
A wiser Monarch never saw the sun: 

All wealth, all honours, the supreme de- 
gree 
Of earthly bliss, was well bestow'd on thee ! 
For sagely hast thou said, " Of all mankind. 
One only just, and righteous, hope to find : 
But shouldst thou search the spacious 

world around. 
Yet one good woman is not to be found." 

* Thus says the King who knew your 

wickedness ; 
The son of Sirach testifies no less. 640 

So may some wildfire on your bodies fall, 
Or some devouring plague consume you 

all; 
As well you view the lecher in the tree, 
And well this honourable Knight you see: 
But since he 's blind and old (a helpless 

case), 
His Squire shall cuckold him before your 

face. 

* Now by my own dread Majesty I swear, 
And by this awful sceptre which I bear, 
No impious wretch shall 'scape unpunish'd 

long, 649 

That in my presence offers such a wrong. 
I will this instant undeceive the Knight, 
And in the very act restore his sight: 
And set the strumpet here in open view, ' 
A warning to the ladies, and to you. 
And all the faithless sex, for ever to be 

true." 
* And will you so,' replied the Queen, 

* indeed ? 
Now, by my mother's soul, it is decreed. 
She shall not want an answer at her need. _ 
For her, and for her daughters, I '11 en- 
gage. 
And all the sex in each succeeding age ; 660 
Art shall be theirs to varnish an offence. 
And fortify their crimes with confidence. 
Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace. 
Seen with both eyes, and pinion'd on the 

place ; 
All they shall need is to protest and 

swear, 
Breathe a soft sigh, and drop a tender 

tear; 



Till their wise husbands, guU'd by arts like 

these. 
Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese. 
' What tho' this sland'rous Jew, this 

Solomon, 
Call'd women fools, and knew full many a 

one ? 670 

The wiser Wits of later times declare 
How constant, chaste, and virtuous women 

are: 
Witness the Martyrs, who resign'd their 

breath. 
Serene in torments, uuconcern'd in death; 
And witness next what Roman authors tell. 
How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell. 
' But since the sacred leaves to all are 

free. 
And men interpret texts, why should not 

we? 
By this no more was meant than to have 

shown 
That sov'reign goodness dwells in him 

alone, 680 

Who only Is, and is but only One. 
But grant the worst ; shall women then be 

weigh' d 
By every word that Solomon hath said ? 
What tho' this king (as ancient story boasts) 
Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hosts; 
He ceas'd at last his Maker to adore, 
And did as much for idol Gods, or more. 
Beware what lavish praises you confer 
On a rank lecher and idolater; 
Whose reign indulgent God, says Holy 

Writ, 690 

Did but for David's righteous sake permit; 
David, the monarch after Heav'n's own 

mind. 
Who lov'd our sex, and honour'd all our 

kind. 
' Well, I 'm a woman, and as such must 

speak; 
Silence would swell me, and my heart would 

break. 
Know, then, I scorn your dull authorities. 
Your idle Wits, and all their learned lies: 
By Heav'n, those authors are our sex's foes. 
Whom, in our right, I must and will op- 
pose.' 
* Nay (quoth the King) dear madam, be 

not wroth: 700 

I yield it up; but since I gave my oath. 
That this much injur'd Knight again should 

see. 
It must be done — I am a King,' said he, 



JANUARY AND MAY 



45 



* And one whose faith has ever sacred 

been — ' 
' And so has mine (she said) — I am a 

Queen : 
Her answer she shall have, I undertake; 
And thus an end of all dispute I make. 
Try when you list; and you shall find, my 

lord. 
It is not in our sex to break our word.' 709 
We leave them here in this heroic strain, 
And to the Knight our story turns again; 
Who in the garden, with his lovely May, 
Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay: 
This was his song, ' O kind and constant 

be, 

Constant and kind I '11 ever prove to thee.' 

Thus singing as he went, at last he drew 

By easy steps to where the pear-tree grew: 

The longing dame look'd up, and spied her 

love 
Full fairly perch'd among the boughs 

above. 
She stopp'd, and sighing, *0 good Gods!' 

she cried, 720 

* What pangs, what sudden shoots distend 

my side ? 
O for that tempting fruit, so fresh, so 



green 



Help, for the love of Heav'n's immortal 

Queen! 
Help, dearest lord, and save at once the life 
Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife ! ' 
Sore sigh'd the Knight to hear his lady's 

cry, 
But could not climb, and had no servant 

nigh: 
Old as he was, and void of eyesight too. 
What could, alas! a helpless husband do ? 

* And must I languish then (she said), and 

die, 730 

Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye ? 
At least, kind Sir, for charity's sweet sake. 
Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to 

take. 
Then from your back I might ascend the 

tree; 
Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to 

me.' 
* With all my soul,' he thus replied 

again, 

* I 'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy 

pain.' 
With that his back against the trunk he 

bent; 
She seiz'd a twig, and up the tree she went. 



Now prove your patience, gentle ladies 

all! 740 

Nor let on me your heavy anger fall: 
'Tis truth I tell, tho' not in phrase re- 

fin'd; 
Tho' blunt my tale, yet honest is my 

mind. 
What feats the lady in the tree might do, 
I pass, as gambols never known to you; 
But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore. 
Than in her life she ever felt before. 

In that nice moment, lo! the wond'ring 

Knight 
Look'd out, and stood restor'd to sudden 

sight. 749 

Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent. 
As one whose thoughts were on his spouse 

intent: 
But when he saw his bosom-wife so dress'd, 
His rage was such as cannot be express'd. 
Not frantic mothers when their infants die 
With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky: 
He cried, he roar'd, he storm'd, he tore his 

hair; 
'Death! Hell! and Furies! what dost thou 

do there ? ' 
* What ails my lord ? ' the trembling 

dame replied, 
* I thought your patience had been better 

tried : 759 

Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind, 
This my reward for having cured the blind ? 
Why was I taught to make my husband 

see, 
By struggling with a man upon a tree ? 
Did I for this the power of magic prove ? 
Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much 

love!' 
' If this be struggling, by this holy light, 
'Tis struggling with a vengeance (quoth 

the Knight) : 
So Heav'n preserve the sight it has re- 
stored, 
As with these eyes I plainly saw thee 

whored ; 
Whored by my slave — perfidious wretch! 

may Hell 770 

As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.' 
'Guard me, good Angels!' cried the 

gentle May, 
' Pray Heav'n this magic work the proper 

way! 
Alas, my love! 't is certain, could you see. 
You ne'er had used these killing words to 

me; 



46 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



So help me, Fates! as 'tis no perfect sight, 
But some faint glimm'ring of a doubtful 

light.' 
* What I have said (quoth he) I must 

maintain, 
For by th' immortal Powers it seerrHd too 

plain — ' 
' By all those Powers, some frenzy ' 

seiz'd your mind 780 

(Replied the dame) : are these the thanks 

I find? 
Wretch that I am, that e'er I was so 

kind!' 

She said; a rising sigh express'd her woe. 
The ready tears apace began to flow. 
And as they fell she wiped from either eye 
The drops (for women, when they list, can 

cry). 
The Knight was touch 'd; and in his looks 

appear'd 
Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he 

cheer'd; 
* Madam, 't is past, and my short anger 

o'er! 
Come down, aud vex your tender heart no 

more. 790 

Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said. 
For, on my soul, amends shall soon be 

made: 
Let my repentance your forgiveness draw; 
By Heav'n, I swore but what I thought I 

saw.' 
*Ah, my lov'd lord! 'twas much unkind 

(she cried) 
On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride. 
But till your sight 's establish'd, for a while 
Imperfect objects may your sense beguile. 
Thus, when from sleep we first our eyes ' 

display. 
The balls are wounded with the piercing 

ray, 800 

And dusky vapours rise, and intercept the 

day; 
So just recov'ring from the shades of 

night 
Your swimming eyes are drunk with sud- 
den light, 
Strange phantoms dance around, and 

skim before your sight. 
Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem; 
Heav'n knows how seldom things are what 

they seem! 
Consult your reason, and you soon shall find 
'T was you were jealous, not your wife un- 
kind: 



Jove ne'er spoke oracle more true than 

this, 
None judge so wrong as those who think 

amiss.' sio 

With that she leap'd into her lord's em- 
brace, 
With well dissembled virtue in her face. 
He hugg'd her close, and kiss'd her o'er 

and o'er, 
Disturb'd with doubts and jealousies no 

more: 
Both pleas'd and bless'd, renew'd their 

mutual vows: 
A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse. 
Thus ends our tale; whose moral next to 

make. 
Let all wise husbands hence example take; 
And pray, to crown the pleasure of their 

lives, 
To be so well deluded by their wives. 820 



THE WIFE OF BATH 

HER PROLOGUE 

Not published until 1714, but naturally 
classified with January and May, and not im- 
probably the product of the same period. 

Behold the woes of matrimonial life. 
And hear with rev'rence an experienced 

wife; 
To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due, 
And think for once a woman tells you true. 
In all these trials I have borne a part: 
I was myself the scourge that caus'd the 

smart; 
For since fifteen in triumph have I led 
Five captive husbands from the church to 

bed. 
Christ saw a wedding once, the Scripture 

says. 
And saw but one, 't was thought, in all his 

days ; 10 

Whence some infer, whose conscience is too 

nice. 
No pious Christian ought to marry twice. 
But let them read, and solve me if they 

can. 
The words address'd to the Samaritan: 
Five times in lawful wedlock she was 

join'd, 
And sure the certain stint was ne'er de- 

fiu'd. 



THE WIFE OF BATH 



47 



'Increase and multiply' was Heav'n's 

command, 
And that 's a text I clearly understand : 
This too, ' Let men their sires and mothers 

leave, 19 

And to their dearer wives for ever cleave.' 
More wives than one by Solomon were 

tried. 
Or else the wisest of mankind 's belied. 
I 've had myself full many a merry tit, 
And trust in Heav'n I may have many yet; 
For when my transitory spouse, unkind, ^ 
Shall die and leave his woful wife behind, I 
I '11 take the next good Christian I can ( 

find. J 

Paul, knowing one could never serve our 

turn, 
Declared 't was better far to wed than burn. 
There 's danger in assembling fire and tow; 
I grant 'em that; and what it means you 

know. 31 

The same apostle, too, has elsewhere 

own'd 
No precept for virginity he found: 
'T is but a counsel — and we women still 
Take which we like, the counsel or our will. 

I envy not their bliss, if he or she 
Think fit to live in perfect chastity: 
Pure let them be, and free from taint or 

vice; 
I for a few slight spots am not so nice. 
Heav'n calls us diff'rent ways; on these 

bestows 40 

One proper gift, another grants to those ; 
Not every man 's obliged to sell his store, 
And give up all his substance to the poor: 
Such as are perfect may, I can't deny; 
But by your leaves. Divines! so am not I. 
Full many a saint, since first the world 

began, 
Liv'd an unspotted maid in spite of man: 
Let such (a God's name) with fine wheat 

be fed. 
And let lis honest wives eat barley bread. 
For me, I '11 keep the post assign'd by 

Heav'n, 50 

And use the copious talent it has giv'n: 
Let my good spouse pay tribute, do me 

right. 
And keep an equal reck'ning every night; 
His proper body is not his, but mine; 
For so said Paul, and Paul 's a sound divine. 
Know then, of those Ave husbands I have 

had, 
Three were just tolerable, two were bad. 



The three were old, but rich and fond be- 
side, 
And toil'd most piteously to please their 

bride ; 
But since their wealth (the best they had) 
was mine, 60 

The rest without much loss I could resign: 
Sure to be lov'd, I took no pains to please, 
Yet had more pleasure far than they had 
ease. 
Presents flow'd in apace: with showers of 
gold 
They made their court, like Jupiter of old: 
If I but smiled, a sudden youth they found, 
And a new palsy seiz'd them when I 
frown'd. 
Ye sov'reign Wives ! give ear, and under- 
stand : 
Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command; 
For never was it giv'n to mortal man 70 
To lie so boldly as we womeli can: 
Forswear the fact, tho' seen with both his 

eyes. 
And call your maids to witness how he lies. 
Hark, old Sir Paul! ('t was thus I used 
to say) 
Whence is our neighbour's wife so rich and 

gay? 

Treated, caress'd, where'er she 's pleas'd to 

roam — 
I sit in tatters, and immured at home. 
Why to her house dost thou so oft repair ? 
Art thou so am'rous ? and is she so fair ? 
If I but see a cousin or a friend, 80 

Lord! how you swell and rage like any 

fiend! 
But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear, 
Then preach till midnight in your easy 

chair; 
Cry, wives are false, and every woman evil. 
And give up all that 's female to the devil. 
If poor (you say), she drains her hus- 
band's purse; 
If rich, she keeps her priest, or something 

worse ; 
If highly born, intolerably vain. 
Vapours and pride by turns possess her 

brain ; 
Now gaily mad, now sourly splenetic, 90 
Freakish when well, and fretful when she 's 

sick. 
If fair, then chaste shccannot long abide. 
By pressing youth attack' d on every side; 
If foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures, 
Or else her wit some fool-gallant procures, 



48 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



Or else she dances with becoming grace, 
Or shape excuses the defects of face. 
There swims no goose so gray, but soon or 

late 
She finds some honest gander for her mate. 
Horses (thou say'st) and asses men may 

try, loo 

And ring suspected vessels ere they buy; 
But wives, a random choice, untried they 

take. 
They dream in courtship, but in wedlock 

wake; 
Then, not till then, the veil 's remov'd away, 
And all the woman glares in open day. 
You tell me, to preserve your wife's good 

grace, 
Your eyes must always languish on my 

face. 
Your tongue with constant flatt'ries feed 

my ear. 
And tag each sentence with ' My life ! my 

dear! ' 
If by strange chance a modest blush be 

rais'd, i lo 

Be sure my fine complexion must be prais'd. 
My garments always must be new and gay. 
And feasts still kept upon my wedding day. 
Then must my nurse be pleas'd, and fa- 

v'rite maid; 
And endless treats and endless visits paid 
To a long train of kindred, friends, allies: 
All this thou say'st, and all thou say'st are 

lies. 
On Jenkin, too, you cast a squinting eye: 
What! can your 'prentice raise your jeal- 
ousy ? 
Fresh are his ruddy cheeks, his forehead 

fair, 1 20 

And like the burnish'd gold his curling hair. 
But clear thy wrinkled brow, and quit thy 

sorrow; 
I 'd scorn your 'prentice should you die to- 
morrow. 
Why are thy chests all lock'd ? on what 

design ? 
Are not thy worldly goods and treasure 

mine ? 
Sir, I 'm no fool; nor shall you, by St. John, 
Have goods and body to yourself alone. 
One you shall quit, in spite of both your 

eyes — 
I heed not, I, the bolts, the locks, the spies. 
If you had wit, you 'd say, ' Go where you 

will, 130 

Dear spouse! I credit not the tales they tell: 



Take all the freedoms of a married life; 
I know thee for a virtuous, faithful wife.' 
Lord! when you have enough, what need 

you care 
How merrily soever others fare ? 
Tho' all the day I give and take delight, 
Doubt not sufficient will be left at night. 
'T is but a just and rational desire 
To light a taper at a neighbour's fire. 
There 's danger too, you think, in rich ar- 
ray, 140 
And none can long be modest that are gay. 
The cat, if you but singe her tabby skin. 
The chimney keeps, and sits content within: 
But once grown sleek, will from her corner 

run, 
Sport with her tail, and wanton in the sun: 
She licks her fair round face, and frisks 

abroad 
To show her fur, and to be catterwaw'd. 
Lo thus, my friends, I wrought to my de- 
sires 
These three right ancient venerable sires. 
I told them, Thus you say. and thus you 

do; 150 

And told them false, but Jenkin swore 

't was true. 
I, like a dog, could bite as well as whine, 
And first complain'd whene'er the guilt was 

mine. 
I tax'd them oft with wenching and amours, 
When their weak legs scarce dragg'd them 

out of doors; 
And swore the rambles that I took by night 
Were all to spy what damsels they bedight: 
That colour brought me many hours of 

mirth ; 
For all this wit is giv'n us from our birth. 
Heav'n gave to woman the peculiar grace 
To spin, to weep, and cully human race. 161 
By this nice conduct and this prudent 

course. 
By murm'ring, wheedling, stratagem, and 

force, 
I still prevail'd, and would be in the right; 
Or curtain lectures made a restless night. 
If once my husband's arm was o'er my side, 
' What ! so familiar with your spouse ? ' I 

cried: 
I levied first a tax upon his need; 
Then let him — 't was a nicety indeed! 
Let all mankind this certain maxim hold; 
Marry who will, our sex is to be sold. 171 
With empty hands no tassels you can lure, 
But fulsome love for gain we can endure; 



TPIE WIFE OF BATH 



49 



For gold we love the impotent and old, 
And heave, and pant, and kiss, and cling, 

for gold. 
Yet with embraces curses oft I mixt, 
Then kiss'd again, and chid, and rail'd be- 
twixt. 
Well, T may make my will in peace, and 

die, 
For not one word in man's arrears am I. 
To drop a dear dispute I was unable, i8o 
Ev'n though the Pope himself had sat at 

table ; 
But when my point was gain'd, then thus I 

spoke : 
* Billy, my dear, how sheepishly you look ! 
Approach, my spouse, and let me kiss thy 

cheek; 
Thou shouldst be always thus resign'd and 

meek! 
Of Job's great patience since so oft you 

preach. 
Well should you practise who so well can 

teach. 
'T is difficult to do, I must allow. 
But I, my dearest ! will instruct you how. 
Great is the blessing of a prudent wife, 190 
Who puts a period to domestic strife. 
One of us two must rule, and one obey; 
And since in man right Reason bears the 

sway. 
Let that frail thing, weak woman, have 

her way. 

The wives of all my family have ruled 
Their tender husbands, and their passions 

cool'd. 
Fie ! 't is unmanly thus to sigh and groan: 
What ! would you have me to yourself 

alone ? 
Why, take me, love ! take all and every 

part! 
Here 's your revenge ! you love it at your 

heart. 200 

Would I vouchsafe to sell what Nature 

gave, 
You little think what custom I could have. 
But see ! I 'm all your own — nay hold — 

for shame! 
W^hat means my dear? — indeed — you 

are to blame.' 
Thus with ray first three lords I pass'd 

my life, 
A very woman and a very wife. 
What sums from these old spouses I could 

raise 
Procur'd young husbands in my riper days. 



Tho' past my bloom, not yet decay'd 

was I, 2og 

Wanton and wild, and chatter'd like a pie. 
In country dances still I bore the bell, 
And sung as sweet as ev'ning Philomel. 
To clear my quail-pipe, and refresh my 

soul. 
Full oft I drain'd the spicy nut-brown 

bowl ; 
Rich luscious wines, that youthful blood 

improve. 
And warm the swelling veins to feats of 

love: 
For 't is as sure as cold engenders hail, 
A liquorish mouth must have a lech'rous 

tail : 
Wine lets no lover unrewarded go, 219 

As all true gamesters by experience know. 
But oh, good Gods ! whene'er a thought 

I cast 
On all the joys of youth and beauty past, 
To find in pleasures I have had my part 
Still warms me to the bottom of my heart. 
This wicked world was once my dear de- 
light ; 
Now all my conquests, all my charms, 

good night ! 
The flour consumed, the best that now I 

can 
Is ev'n to make my market of the bran. 
My fourth dear spouse was not exceed- 
ing true ; 
He kept, 't was thought, a private miss or 

two ; 230 

But all that score I paid — As how ? 

you '11 say : 
Not with my body, in a filthy way; 
But I so dress'd, and danc'd, and drank, 

and din'd 
And view'd a friend with eyes so very kind, 
As stung his heart, and made his marrow 

fry. 
With burning rage and frantic jealousy. 
His soul, I hope, enjoys eternal glory. 
For here on earth I was his purgatory. 
Oft, when his shoe the most severely 

wrung, 239 

He put on careless airs, and sat and sung. 
How sore I gall'd him only Heav'n could 

know. 
And he that felt, and I that caus'd the woe. 
He died when last from pilgrimage I came, 
With other gossips, from Jerusalem; 
And now lies buried underneath a rood, 
Fair to be seen, and rear'd of honest wood : 



5° 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



A tomb, indeed, with fewer sculptures 

graced 
Than that Mausolus' pious widow placed, 
Or where enshrin'd the great Darius lay; 
But cost on graves is merely thrown away. 
The pit fiU'd up, with turf we cover'd o'er; 
So bless the good man's soul! I say no 

more. 252 

Now for my fifth lov'd lord, the last and 

best; 
(Kind Heav'n afford him everlasting rest!) 
Full hearty was his love, and I can show 
The tokens on my ribs in black and blue; 
Yet with a knack my heart he could have 

won, 
While yet the smart was shooting in the 

bone. 
How quaint an appetite in women reigns ! 
Free gifts we scorn, and love what costs us 

pains. 260 

Let men avoid us, and on them we leap; 
A glutted market makes provision cheap. 
In pure good will I took this jovial 

spark. 
Of Oxford he, a most egregious clerk. 
He boarded with a widow in the town, 
A trusty gossip, one dame Alison; 
Full well the secrets of my soul she knew. 
Better than e'er our parish priest could 

do. 
To her I told whatever could befall : 269 
Had but my husband piss'd against a wall, 
Or done a thing that might have cost his 

. life, 
She — and my niece — and one more 

worthy wife, 
Had known it all : what most he would 

conceal, 
To these I made no scruple to reveal. 
Oft has he blush'd from ear to ear for 

shame 
That e'er he told a secret to his dame. 

It so befell, in holy time of Lent, 
That oft a day I to this gossip went ; 
(My husband, thank my stars, was out of 

town) 
From house to house we rambled up and 

down, 280 

This clerk, myself, and my good neighbour 

Alse, 
To see, be seen, to tell, and gather tales. 
"Visits to every church we daily paid. 
And march'd in every holy masquerade; 
The stations duly and the vigils kept; 
Not much we fasted, but scarce ever slept. 



At sermons, too, I shone in scarlet gay: 
The wasting moth ne'er spoil'd my best 

array ; 
The cause was this, I wore it every day. 
'Twas when fresh May her early blossoms 

yields, 290 

This clerk and I were walking in the fields. 
We grew so intimate, I can't tell how, 
I pawn'd my honour, and engaged my vow, 
If e'er I laid my husband in his urn. 
That he, and only he, should serve my turn. 
We straight struck hands, the bargain was 

agreed; 
I still have shifts against a time of need. 
The mouse that always trusts to one poor 

hole 
Can never be a mouse of any soul. 

I vow'd I scarce could sleep since first I 

knew him, 300 

And durst be sworn he had bewitch'd me 

to him; 
If e'er I slept I dream'd of him alone. 
And dreams foretell, as learned men have 

shown. 
All this I said; but dreams. Sirs, I had 

none : 

I follow'd but my crafty crony's lore, 
Who bid me tell this lie — and twenty more. 
Thus day by day, and month by month 

we past; 
It pleas'd the Lord to take my spouse at 

last. 
I tore my gown, I soil'd my locks with dwst, 
And beat my breasts, as wretched widows 
— must. 310 

Before my face my handkerchief I spread. 
To hide the flood of tears I — did not shed. 
The good man's coffin to the church was 

borne ; 
Around the neighbours and my clerk too 

mourn. 
But as he march'd, good Gods! he show'd a 

pair 
Of legs and feet so clean, so strong, so fair! 
Of twenty winters' age he seem'd to be; 
I (to say truth) was twenty more than he; 
But vig'rous still, a lively buxom dame, 319 
And had a wondrous gift to quench a flame. 
A conjurer once, that deeply could divine^ 
Assur'd me Mars in Taurus was my sign. 
As the stars order'd, such my life has been: 
Alas, alas! that ever love was sin! 
Fair Venus gave me fire and sprightly 

grace, 
And Mars assurance and a dauntless face. 



THE WIFE OF BATH 



51 



By virtue of this powerful constellation, 
I follow'd always my own inclination. 
But to my tale: — A month scarce pass'd 
away, 
With dance and song we kept the nuptial 
day. ^ 330 

All I possess'd I gave to his command, 
My goods and chattels, money, house, and 

land ; 
But oft repented, and repent it still; 
He prov'd a rebel to my sov'reigu will; 
Nay, once, by Heav'n! he struck me on the 

face: 
Hear but the fact, and judge yourselves 
the case. 
Stubborn as any lioness was I, 
And knew full well to raise my voice on 

higli ; 
As true a rambler as I was before, 
And would be so in spite of all he swore. 340 
He against this right sagely would advise. 
And old examples set before my eyes; 
Tell how the Roman matrons led their life. 
Of Gracchus' mother, and Duilius' wife; 
And close the sermon, as beseem'd his wit, 
With some grave sentence out of Holy Writ. 
Oft would he say, ' Who builds his house 

on sands, 
Pricks his blind horse across the fallow 

lands. 
Or lets his wife abroad with pilgrims roam. 
Deserves a fool's - cap and long ears at 
home.' 350 

All this avail'd not, for whoe'er he be 
That tells my faults, I hat^ him mortally! 
And so do numbers more, I '11 boldly say, 
Men, women, clergy, regular and lay. 
My spouse (who was, you know, to learn- 
ing bred) 
A certain treatise oft at evening read. 
Where divers authors (whom the devil con- 
found 
For all their lies) were in one volume 

bound : 
Valerius whole, and of St. Jerome part; 
Chrysippus and TertuUian, Ovid's Art, 360 
Solomon's Proverbs, Eloisa's loves. 
And many more than sure the church ap- 
proves. 
More legends were there here of wicked 

wives 
Than good in all the Bible and saints' lives. 
Who drew the lion vanquish'd ? 'T was a 

man: 
But could we women write as scholars can, 



Men should stand mark'd with far more 
wickedness 

Than all the sons of Adam could redress. 

Love seldom haunts the breast where learn- 
ing lies. 

And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise. 370 

Those play the scholars who can't play the 
men, 

And use that weapon which they have, their 
pen; 

When old, and past the relish of delight. 

Then down they sit, and in their dotage 
write 

That not one woman keeps her marriage- 
vow. 

(This by the way, but to my purpose now.) 
It chanc'd my husband, on a winter's 
night. 

Read in this book aloud with strange de- 
light, 

How the first female (as the Scriptures 
show) 

Brought her own spouse and all his race to 
woe; 380 

How Samson fell; and he whom Dejanire 

Wrapp'd in th' envenom'd shirt, and set on 
fire; 

How curs'd Eriphyle her lord betray'd. 

And the dire ambush Clytemnestra laid; 

But what most pleas'd him was the Cretan 
dame 

And husband-bull — Oh, monstrous! fie, for 
shame! 
He had by heart the whole detail of woe 

Xantippe made her good man undergo; 

How oft she scolded in a day he knew, 389 

How many pisspots on the sage she threw — 

Who took it patiently, and wiped his head: 

' Rain follows thunder,' that was all he said. 
He read how Arius to his friend com- 
plain 'd 

A fatal tree was growing in his land. 

On which three wives successively had 
twih'd 

A sliding noose, and waver'd in the wind. 

'Where grows this plant,' replied the 
friend, ' oh where ? 

For better fruit did never orchard bear : 

Give me some slip of this most blissful 
tree, 

And in my garden planted it shall be.* 400 
Then how two wives their lords' destruc- 
tion prove, 

Thro' hatred one, and one thro' too much 

love : 

/ 



52 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



That for her husband mix'd a pois'nous 

draught, 
And this for lust an am'rous philtre 

bought ; 
The nimble juice soon seiz'd his giddy 

head, 
Frantic at night, and in the morning dead. 
How some with swords their sleeping 

lords have slain, 
And some have hammer'd nails into their 

brain. 
And some have drench'd them with a 

deadly potion : 
All this he read, and read with great de- 
votion. 410 
Long time I heard, and swell'd, and 

blush'd, and frown'd ; 
But when no end of these vile tales I 

found, 
When still he read, and laugh' d, and read 

again. 
And half the night was thus consumed in 

vain. 
Provoked to vengeance, three large leaves 

I tore. 
And with one buffet fell'd him on the floor. 
With that my husband in a fury rose, 
And down he settled me with hearty 

blows. 
I groan'd, and lay extended on my side ; 
' Oh ! thou hast slain me for my wealth,' I 

cried ! 420 

* Yet I forgive thee — take my last em- 
brace ' — 
He wept, kind soul ! and stoop'd to kiss 

my face : 
I took him such a box as turn'd him blue. 
Then sigh'd and cried, ' Adieu, my dear, 

adieu ! ' 
But after many a hearty struggle past, 
I condescended to be pleas'd at last. 
Soon as he said, * My mistress and my 

wife ! 
Do what you list the term of all your life ; ' 
I took to heart the merits of the cause, 
And stood content to rule by wholesome 

laws ; 430 

Receiv'd the reins of absolute command. 
With all the government of house and 

land, 
And empire o'er his tongue and o'er his 

hand. 

As for the volume that revil'd the dames, 
'T was torn to fragments, and condemn'd to 

flames. 



Now Heav'n on all my husbands gone 

bestow 
Pleasures above for tortures felt below : 
That rest they wish'd for grant them in 

the grave, 
And bless those souls my conduct help'd 

to save ! 



THE TEMPLE OF FAME 

Pope asserted that this poem was composed in 
1711. Its date of publication is indicated by a 
letter from Pope to Martha Blount, written in 
1714, in which he speaks of it as ' just out.' 
Eventually it was classed by the poet as a 
' juvenile poem ' among- the earlier transla- 
tions and imitations. This Advertisement was 
prefixed: — 

The hint of the following' piece was taken 
from Chaucer's House of Fame. The desig-n is 
in a manner entirely altered ; the descriptions 
and most, of the particular thoughts my own : 
yet I could not suffer it to be printed without 
this acknowledgment. The reader who would 
compare this with Chaucer, may begin with 
his third Book of Fame, there being nothing 
in the two first books that answers to their 
title. 

In that soft season, when descending 

showers 
Call forth the greens, and wake the rising 

flowers. 
When opening buds salute the welcome 

day, 
And earth relenting feels the genial ray; 
As balmy sleep had charm'd my cares to 

rest, 
And love itself was banish'd from my 

breast, 
(What time the morn mysterious visions 

brings. 
While purer slumbers spread their golden 

wings) 
A train of phantoms in wild order rose, 9 
And join'd, this intellectual scene compose. 
I stood, methought, betwixt earth, seas, 

and skies, 
The whole Creation open to my eyes ; 
In air self-balanced hung the globe below. 
Where mountains rise and circling oceans 

flow ; 
Here naked rocks and empty wastes were 

seen, 
There towery cities, and the forests green ; 



THE TEMPLE OF FAME 



S3 



Here sailing ships delight the wand'ring 

eyes, 
There trees and intermingled temples rise : 
Now a clear sun the shining scene displays, 
The transient landscape now in clouds 

decays. 20 

O'er the wide prospect as I gazed around. 
Sudden I heard a wild promiscuous sound, 
Like broken thunders that at distance roar, 
Or billows raurm'ring on the hollow shore: 
Then gazing up, a glorious Pile beheld. 
Whose tow'ring summit ambient clouds 

conceal'd ; 
High on a rock of ice the structure lay. 
Steep its ascent, and slipp'ry was the way; 
The wondrous rock like Parian marble 

shone, 29 

And seem'd, to distant sight, of solid stone. 
Inscriptions here of various names I view'd. 
The greater part by hostile time subdued; 
Yet wide was spread their fame in ages past, 
And poets once had promis'd they should 

last. 
Some fresh engraved appear' d of wits re- 
no wn'd; 
I look'd again, nor could theii* trace be 

found. 
Critics I saw, that other names deface, 
And fix their own with labour, in their 

place : 
Their own, like others, soon their place 

resign'd, 
Or disappear'd and left the first behind. 40 
Nor was the work impair'd by storms alone, 
But felt th' approaches of too warm a sun ; 
For Fame, impatient of extremes, decays 
Not more by envy than excess of praise. 
Yet part no injuries of Heav'n could feel. 
Like crystal faithful to the graving steel: 
The rock's high summit, in the temple's 

shade. 
Nor heat could melt, nor beating storm 

invade. 
Their names inscribed unnumber'd ages past 
From Time's first birth, with Time itself 

shall last: 50 

These ever new, nor subject to decays. 
Spread, and grow brighter with the length 

of days. 
So Zembla's rocks (the beauteous work 

of frost) 
Rise white in air, and glitter o'er the coast; 
Pale suns, unfelt, at distance roll away. 
And on th' impassive ice the lightnings 

play; 



Eternal snows the growing mass supply. 
Till the bright mountains prop th' incum- 
bent sky: 
As Atlas fix'd, each hoary pile appears, 59 
The gather'd winter of a thousand years. 
On this foundation Fame's high temple 

stands; 
Stupendous pile! not rear'd by mortal hands. 
Whate'er proud Rome or artful Greece 

beheld, 
Or elder Babylon, its frame excell'd. 
Four faces had the dome, and ev'ry face 
Of various structure, but of equal grace: 
Four brazen gates, on columns lifted high, 
Salute the diff'rent quarters of the sky. 
Here fabled Chiefs in darker ages born. 
Or Worthies old whom Arms or Arts 

adorn, 70 

Who cities raised or tamed a monstrous 

race, 
The walls in venerable order grace: 
Heroes in animated marble frown. 
And Legislators seem to think in stone. 
Westward, a sumptuous frontispiece 

appear'd, 
On Doric pillars of white marble rear'd, 
Crown'd with an architrave of antique 

mould, 
And sculpture rising on the roughen'd gold. 
In shaggy spoils here Theseus was beheld, 
And Perseus dreadful with Minerva's 

shield: 80 

There great Alcides, stooping with his toil. 
Rests on his club, and holds th' Hesperian 

spoil : 
Here Orpheus sings; trees moving to the 

sound 
Start from their roots, and form a shade 

around : 
Amphion there the loud creating lyre 
Strikes, and beholds a sudden Thebes as- 
pire; 
Cithseron's echoes answer to his call. 
And half the mountain rolls into a wall: 
There might you see the length'ning spires 

ascend. 
The domes swell up, and widening arches 

bend, 90 

The growing towers, like exhalations, rise, 
And the huge columns heave into the skies. 
The eastern front was glorious to behold, 
With diamond flaming, and barbaric gold. 
There Ninus shone, who spread th' Assyrian 

fame, 
And the great founder of the Persian name; 



54 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



There in long robes the royal Magi stand, 
Grave Zoroaster waves the circling wand; 
The sage Chaldeans robed in white ap- 

pear'd, 
And Brahmans, deep in desert woods 

revered. loo 

These stopp'd the moon, and call' th' un- 
bodied shades 
To midnight banquets in the glimm'ring 

glades; 
Made visionary fabrics round them rise. 
And airy spectres skim before their eyes; 
Of talismans and sigils knew the power, 
And careful watch'd the planetary hour. 
Superior, and alone, Confucius stood. 
Who taught that useful science, — to be 

good. 
But on the south, a long majestic race 109 
Of Egypt's priests the gilded niches grace. 
Who measured earth, described the starry 

spheres, 
And traced the long records of Lunar 

Years. 
High on his car Sesostris struck my view. 
Whom sceptred slaves in golden harness 

drew: 
His hands a bow and pointed jav'lin hold ; 
His giant limbs are arm'd in scales of gold. 
Between the statues obelisks were placed, 
And the learn' d walls with hieroglyphics 

graced. 
Of Gothic structure was the northern 

side, 
O'erwrought with ornaments of barb'rous 

pride. 120 

There huge Colosses rose, with trophies 

crown 'd, 
And Runic characters were graved around ; 
There sat Zamolxis with erected eyes. 
And Odin here in mimic trances dies. 
There on rude iron columns, smear'd with 

blood, 
The horrid forms of Scythian Heroes stood, 
Druids and Bards (their once loud harps 

unstrung) 
And youths that died to be by poets sung. 
These and a thousand more of doubtful 

fame, 
To whom old fables gave a lasting name, 130 
In ranks adorn'd the temple's outward face ; 
The wall in lustre and effect like glass. 
Which o'er each object casting various dyes, 
Enlarges some, and others multiplies ; 
Nor void of emblem was the mystic wall. 
For thus romantic Fame increases all. 



The temple shakes, the sounding gates 

unfold, 
Wide vaults appear, and roofs of fretted 

gold, 
Rais'd on a thousand pillars, wreath'd 

around 
With laurel foliage, and with eagles 

crown'd. 140 

Of bright transparent beryl were the walls, 
The friezes gold, and gold the capitals; 
As Heav'n with stars, the roof with jewels 

glows. 
And ever-living lamps depend in rows. 
Full in the passage of each spacious gate 
The sage Historians in white garments 

wait; 
Graved o'er their seats the form of Time 

was found, 
His scythe revers'd, and both his pinions 

bound. 
Within stood Heroes, who thro' loud alarms 
In bloody fields pursued renown in arms. 
High on a throne, with trophies charged, I 

view'd 151 

The youth that all things but himself sub- 
dued; 
His feet on sceptres and tiaras trod, 
And his horn'd head belied the Libyan 

God, 
There Caesar, graced with both Minervas, 

shone; 
Csesar, the world's great master, and his 

own; 
Unmov'd, superior still in ev'ry state. 
And scarce detested in his country's fate. 
But chief were those who not for empire 

fought. 
But with their toils their people's safety 

bought: 160 

High o'er the rest Epaminondas stood; 
Timoleon, glorious in his brother's blood; 
Bold Scipio, saviour of the Roman state. 
Great in his triumphs, in retirement great; 
And wise Aurelius, in whose well-taught 

mind 
With boundless power unbounded virtue 

join'd. 
His own strict judge, and patron of man- 
kind. 

Much-suff'ring heroes next their hon- 
ours claim. 
Those of less noisy, and less guilty fame. 
Fair Virtue's silent train: supreme of 

these 170 

I Here ever shines the godlike Socrates.' 



THE TEMPLE OF FAME 



55 



He whom ungrateful Athens could expel, 

At all times just, but when he sign'd the 
shell : 

Here bis abode the martyr'd Phocion 
claims, 

With Agis, not the last of Spartan names: 

Unconquer'd Cato shows the wound he 
tore, 

And Brutus his ill genius meets no more. 
But in the centre of the hallow'd choir 

Six pompous columns o'er the rest aspire: 

Around the shrine itself of Fame they 
stand, i8o 

Hold the chief honours and the fane com- 
mand. 

High on the first the mighty Homer 
shone; 

Eternal adamant composed his throne; 

Father of verse ! in holy fillets drest, 

His silver beard waved gently o'er his 
breast; 

Tho' blind, a boldness in his looks ap- 
pears; 

In years he seem'd, but not impair'd by 
years. 

The wars of Troy were round the pillar 
seen; 

Here fierce Tydides wounds the Cyprian 
Queen; 189 

Here Hector, glorious from Patroclus' fall, 

Here, dragg'd in triumph round the Tro- 
jan wall. 

Motion and life did ev'ry part inspire. 

Bold was the work, and prov'd the mas- 
ter's fire: 

A strong expression most he seem'd t' 
affect. 

And here and there disclosed a brave neg- 
lect. 
A golden column next in rank appear'd. 

On which a shrine of purest gold was 
rear'd ; 

Finish'd the whole, and labour'd ev'ry 
part, 

With patient touches of unwearied art. 199 

The Mantuan there in sober triumph sate, 

Composed his posture, and his look se- 
date; 

On Homer still he fix'd a rev'rend eye, 

Great without pride, in modest majesty. 

In living sculpture on the sides were 
spread 

The Latian wars, and haughty Turnus dead; 

Eliza stretch'd upon the funeral pyre; 

.^neas bending with his aged sire: 



Troy flamed in burning gold, and o'er the 

throne 
* Arms and the man ' in golden ciphers 

shone. 
Four swans sustain a car of silver 

bright, 210 

With heads advanced, and pinions stretch'd 

for flight: 
Here, like some furious prophet, Pindar 

rode. 
And seem'd to labour with th' inspiring 

God. 
Across the harp a careless hand he flings, 
And boldly sinks into the sounding strings. 
The figured games of Greece the column 

grace : 
Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race; 
The youths hang o'er the chariots as they 

run; 
The fiery steeds seem starting from the 

stone; 
The ciiampions in distorted postures 

threat; 220 

And all appear'd irregularly great. 

Here happy Horace tuned th' Ausonian 

lyre 
To sweeter sounds, and temper'd Pindar's 

fire: 
Pleas'd with Alcseus' manly rage t' infuse 
The softer spirit of the Sapphic Muse. 
The polish'd pillar diff'rent sculptures 

grace ; 
A work outlasting monumental brass. 
Here smiling loves and bacchanals appear, 
The Julian star, and great Augustus here; 
The doves, that round the infant poet 

spread 230 

Myrtles and bays, hung hov'ring o'er his 

head. 
Here, in a shrine that cast a dazzling 

light, 
Sate fix'd in thought the mighty Stagy- 
rite ; 
His sacred head a radiant Zodiac crown'd. 
And various animals his sides surround : 
His piercing eyes, erect, appear to view 
Superior worlds, and look all Nature 

thro'. 
With equal rays immortal Tully shone; 
The Roman rostra deck'd the consul's 

throne ; 
Gath'ring his flowing robe, he seem'd to 

stand 240 

In act to speak, and graceful stretch'd his 

hand ; 



S6 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



Behind, Rome's Genius waits with civic 

crowns, 
And the great father of his country owns. 

These massy columns in a circle rise, 
O'er which a pompous dome invades the 

skies; 
Scarce to the top I stretch'd my aching 

sight, 
So large it spread, and swelFd to such a 

height. 
Full in the midst proud Fame's imperial 

seat 
With jewels blazed, magnificently great; 
The vivid em'ralds there revive the eye, 250 
The flaming rubies show their sanguine dye. 
Bright azure rays from lively sapphires 

stream. 
And lucid amber casts a golden gleam. 
With various-colour'd light the pavement 

shone. 
And all on fire appear'd the glowing throne ; 
The dome's high arch reflects the mingled 

blaze. 
And forms a rainbow of alternate rays. 
When on the Goddess first I cast my sight. 
Scarce seem'd her stature of a cubit's 

height; 259 

But swell'd to larger size, the more I gazed. 
Till to the roof her tow'ring front she 

rais'd. 
With her, the temple ev'ry moment grew, 
And ampler vistas open'd to my view : 
Upward the columns shoot, the roofs as- 
cend, 
And arches widen, and long aisles extend. 
Such was her form, as ancient bards have 

told; 
Wings raise her arms, and wings her feet 

infold ; 
A thousand busy tongues the Goddess 

bears, 
A thousand open eyes, and thousand lis- 

t'ning ears. 269 

Beneath, in order ranged, the tuneful Nine 
(Her virgin handmaids) still attend the 

shrine ; 
With eyes on Fame for ever fix'd, they sing; 
For Fame they raise the voice, and tune 

the string; 
With Time's first birth began the heav'nly 

lays, 
And last, eternal, thro' the length of days. 

Around these wonders as I cast a look, 
The trumpet sounded, and the temple 

shook, 



And all the nations summon'd at the call. 
From diff'rent quarters fill the crowded 

hall. 
Of various tongues the mingled sounds 

were heard; 280 

In various garbs promiscuous throngs ap- 
pear'd ; 
Thick as the bees, that with the spring re- 
new 
Their flowery toils, and sip the fragrant 

dew. 
When the wing'd colonies first tempt the 

sky, 
O'er dusky fields and shaded waters fly, 
Or, settling, seize the sweets the blossoms 

yield, 
And a low murmur runs along the field. 
Millions of suppliant crowds the shrine at- 
tend, 288 
And all degrees before the Goddess bend; 
The poor, the rich, the valiant, and the sage. 
And boasting youth, and narrative old age. 
Their pleas were diff'rent, their request 

the same ; 
For good and bad alike are fond of Fame. 
Some she disgraced and some with honours 

crown'd ; 
Unlike successes equal merits found. 
Thus her blind sister, fickle Fortune, reigns. 
And, undiscerning, scatters crowns and 

chains. 
First at the shrine the learned world 

appear. 
And to the Goddess thus prefer their 

prayer : 
* Long have we sought t' instruct and please 

mankind, 300 

With studies pale, with midnight - vigils 

blind ; 
But thank'd by few, rewarded yet by none. 
We here appeal to thy superior throne : 
On Wit and Learning the just prize bestow. 
For Fame is all we must expect below.' 
The Goddess heard, and bade the Muses 

raise 
The golden trumpet of eternal praise : 
From pole to pole the winds diffuse the 

sound. 
That fills the circuit of the world around ; 
Not all at once, as thunder breaks the 

cloud, 310 

The notes at first were rather sweet than 

loud ; 
By just degrees they every moment rise. 
Fill the wide earth, and gain upon the skies. 



THE TEMPLE OF FAME 



57 



At every breath were balmy odours shed, 
Which still grew sweeter as they wider 

spread ; 
Less fragrant scents th' unfolding rose ex- 
hales, 
Or spices breathing in Arabian gales. 
Next these the good and just, an awful 

train, 
Thus on their knees address the sacred 

fane : 319 

' Since living virtue is with envy curs'd, 
And the best men are treated like the 

worst, 
Do thou, just Goddess, call our merits 

forth. 
And give each deed th' exact intrinsic 

worth.' 

* Not with bare justice shall your act be 

crown'd 
(Said Fame), but high above desert re- 

nown'd : 
Let fuller notes th' applauding world amaze, 
And the loud clarion labour in your praise.' 
This band dismiss'd, behold another 

crowd 
Preferr'd the same request, and lowly 

bow'd ; 
The constant tenor of whose well-spent 

days ^ 330 

No less deserv'd a just return of praise. 
But straight the direful trump of Slander 

sounds ; 
Thro' the big dome the doubling thunder 

bounds ; 
Loud as the burst of cannon rends the 

skies. 
The dire report thro' every region flies. 
In every ear incessant rumours rung, 
And gath'ring scandals grew on every 

tongue. 
From the black trumpet's rusty concave 

broke 
Sulphureous flames, and clouds of rolling 

smoke : 
The pois'nous vapour blots the purple 

skies, 340 

And withers all before it as it flies. 

A troop came next, who crowns and 

armour wore, 
And proud defiance in their looks they 

bore : 

* For thee (they cried) amidst alarms and 

strife, 
We sail'd in tempests down the stream of 
life; 



For thee whole nations fiU'd with flames 

and blood, 
And swam to Empire thro' the purple 

flood: 
Those ills we dared, thy inspiration own ; 
What virtue seem'd, was done for thee 

alone.' 
'Ambitious fools!' (the Queen replied, 

and frown'd) 350 

*Be all your acts in dark oblivion drown'd; 
There sleep forgot, with mighty tyrants 

gone, 
Your statues moulder'd, and your names 

unknown! ' 
A sudden cloud straight snatch'd them 

from my sight. 
And each majestic phantom sunk in night. 
Then came the smallest tribe I yet had 

seen; 
Plain was their dress, and modest was their 

mien: 
' Great Idol of mankind ! we neither claim 
The praise of Merit, nor aspire to Fame ! 
But safe in deserts from th' applause of 

men, 360 

Would die unheard of, as we liv'd unseen; 
'T is all we beg thee, to conceal from sight 
Those acts of goodness which themselves 

requite. 
O let us still the secret joy partake, 
To follow Virtue ev'n for Virtue's sake.' 
'And live there men who slight im- 
mortal fame ? 
Who then with incense shall adore our 

name ? 
But, mortals ! know, 't is still our greatest 

pride 
To blaze those virtues which the good 

would hide. 
Rise! Muses, rise ! add all your tuneful 

breath ; 370 

These must not sleep in darkness and in 

death.' 
She said: in air the trembling music floats, 
And on the winds triumphant swell the 

notes; 
So soft, tho' high, so loud, and yet so clear, 
Ev'n list'ning angels lean'd from Heav'n to 

hear: 
To farthest shores th' ambrosial spirit flies, 
Sweet to the world, and grateful to the skies. 
Next these a youthful train their vows 

express'd, 
With feathers crown'd, with gay embroid'ry 

dress'd: 



58 



PARAPHRASES FROM CHAUCER 



' Hither ' they cried ' direct your eyes, and 
see 380 

The men of pleasure, dress, and gallan- 
try. 

Ours is the place at banquets, balls, and 
plays. 

Sprightly our nights, polite are all our days ; 

Courts we frequent, where 'tis our pleasing 
care 

To pay due visits, and address the Fair; 

In fact, *t is true, no nymph we could per- 
suade, 

But still in fancy vanquish'd ev'ry maid; 

Of unknown Duchesses lewd tales we tell, 

Yet, would the world believe us, all were 
well; 389 

The joy let others have, and we the name, 

And what we want in pleasure, grant in 
fame.' 
The Queen assents: the trumpet rends 
the skies. 

And at each blast a lady's honour dies. 
Pleas'd with the strange success, vast 
numbers prest 

Around the shrine, and made the same re- 
quest: 

* What you ' she cried, * unlearn'd in arts 
to please. 

Slaves to yourselves, and ev'n fatigued with 
ease. 

Who lose a length of undeserving days. 

Would you usurp the lover's dear-bought 
praise ? 

To just contempt, ye vain pretenders, fall. 

The people's fable, and the scorn of all.' 401 

Straight the black clarion sends a horrid 
sound. 

Loud laughs burst out, and bitter scoffs fly 
round; 

Whispers are heard, with taunts reviling 
loud, 

And scornful hisses run thro' all the crowd. 
Last, those who boast of mighty mis- 
chiefs done. 

Enslave their country, or usurp a throne; 

Or who their glory's dire foundation laid 

On sov'reigns ruin'd, or on friends be- 
tray 'd; 

Calm, thinking villains, whom no faith could 
fix, 410 

Of crooked counsels and dark politics; 

Of these a gloomy tribe surround the 
throne. 

And beg to make th' immortal treasons 
known. 



The trumpet roars, long flaky flames expire, 
With sparks that seem'd to set the world 

on fire. 
At the dread sound pale mortals stood 

aghast. 
And startled Nature trembled with the 

blast. 
This having heard and seen, some Power 

unknown 
Straight changed the scene, and snatch'd 

me from the throne. 
Before my view appear'd a structure 

fair, 420 

Its site uncertain, if in earth or air; 
With rapid motion turn'd the mansion 

round ; 
With ceaseless noise the ringing walls re- 
sound : 
Not less in number were the spacious doors 
Than leaves on trees, or sands upon the 

shores; 
Which still unfolded stand, by night, by 

day, 
Pervious to winds, and open every way. 
As flames by nature to the skies ascend. 
As weighty bodies to the centre tend. 
As to the sea returning rivers roll, 430 

And the touch'd needle trembles to the 

pole, 
Hither, as to their proper place, arise 
All various sounds from earth, and seas, 

and skies. 
Or spoke aloud, or whisper'd in the ear; 
Nor ever silence, rest, or peace is here. 
As on the smooth expanse of crystal lakes 
The sinking stone at first a circle makes; 
The trembling surface by the motion 

stirr'd. 
Spreads in a second circle, then a third; 
Wide, and more wide, the floating rings 

advance, 440 

Fill all the wat'ry plain, and to the margin 

dance : 
Thus every voice and sound, when first they 

break, 
On neigh b'ring air a soft impression 

make ; 
Another ambient circle then they move; 
That in its turn, impels the next above; 
Thro' undulating air the sounds are sent. 
And spread o'er all the fluid element. 
There various news I heard of love and 

strife, 
Of peace and war, health, sickness, death, 

and life, 449 



THE TEMPLE OF FAME 



59 



Of loss and gain, of famine, and of store, 
Of storms at sea, and travels on the shore, 
Of prodigies, and portents seen in air. 
Of fires and plagues, and stars with blazing 

hair. 
Of turns of fortime, changes in the state, 
The fall of fav'rites, projects of the great, 
Of old mismanagements, taxations new; 
All neither wholly false, nor wholly true. 
Above, below, without, within, around. 
Confused, unnumber'd multitudes are 

found. 
Who pass, repass, advance, and glide 

away, 460 

Hosts rais'd by fear, and phantoms of a day : 
Astrologers, that future fates foreshew. 
Projectors, quacks, and lawyers not a few; 
And priests, and party zealots, numerous 

bands. 
With home-born lies or tales from foreign 

lands ; 
Each talk'd aloud, or in some secret place. 
And wild impatience stared in ev'ry face. 
The flying rumours gather'd as they roU'd, 
Scarce any tale was sooner heard than told ; 
And all who told it added something new, ^ 
And all who heard it made enlargements 

too; 471 

In ev'ry ear it spread, on ev'ry tongue it 

grew. 
Thus flying east and west, and north and 

south. 
News travel'd with increase from mouth to 

mouth. 
So from a spark that, kindled first by 

chance. 
With gath'ring force the quick'ning flames 

advance ; 
Till to the clouds their curling heads as- 
pire. 
And towers and temples sink in floods of 

fire. 
When thus ripe lies are to perfection 

sprung. 
Full grown, and fit to grace a mortal 

tongue, 480 

Thro' thousand vents, impatient, forth they 

flow. 
And rush in millions on the world below. 
Fame sits aloft, and points them out their 

course, 
Their date determines, and prescribes their 

force; 
Some to remain, and some to perish soon. 
Or wane and wax alternate like the moon. 



Around, a thousand winged wonders fly, 
Borne by the trumpet's blast, and scatter'd 

thro' the sky. 
There, at one passage, oft you might 

survey 
A lie and truth contending for the way ; 490 
And long 't was doubtful, both so closely 

pent. 
Which first should issue thro' the narrow 

vent: 
At last agreed, together out they fly. 
Inseparable now the truth and lie; 
The strict companions are for ever join'd. 
And this or that unmix'd, no mortal e'er 

shall find, 
While thus I stood, intent to see and 

hear, 
One came, methought, and whisper'd in my 

ear: 
' What could thus high thy rash ambition 

raise ? 
Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for 

praise ? ' 500 

* 'T is true,' said I, ' not void of hopes 

I came, 
For who so fond as youthful bards of 

Fame ? 
But few, alas! the casual blessing boast. 
So hard to gain, so easy to be lost. 
How vain that second life in others' breath, 
Th' estate which wits inherit after death! 
Ease, health, and life for this they must 

resign, 
(Unsure the tenure, but how vast the fine!) 
The great man's curse, without the gains, 

endure. 
Be envied, wretched; and be flatter'd, poor; 
All luckless wits their enemies prof est, 511 
And all successful, jealous friends at best. 
Nor Fame I slight, nor for her favours call; 
She comes unlook'd for, if she comes at alL 
But if the purchase costs so dear a price 
As soothing Folly, or exalting Vice; 
Oh! if the Muse must flatter lawless sway. 
And follow still where Fortune leads the 

way; 
Or if no basis bear my rising name. 
But the fall'n ruins of another's fame; 520 
Then teach me, Heav'n! to scorn the guilty 

bays; 
Drive from my breast that wretched lust 

of praise; 
Unblemish'd let me live or die unknown; 
Oh, grant an honest fame, or grant me 

none ! ' 



6o 



TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID 



TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID 



SAPPHO TO PHAON 

FROM THE FIFTEENTH OF OVID'S 
EPISTLES 



Written, according to Pope, in 1707. 
published in Tonson's Ovid, 1712. 



First 



Say, lovely Youth, that dost my heart com- 
mand, 

Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand ? 

Must then her name the wretched writer 
prove, 

To thy remembrance lost, as to thy love ? 

Ask not the cause that I new numbers 
choose, 

The lute neglected and the lyric Muse ; 

Love taught my tears in sadder notes to 
flow, 

And tuned my heart to elegies of woe. 

I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn 

By driving winds the spreading flames are 
borne ! lo 

Phaon to ^Etna's scorching fields retires, 

While I consume with more than ^Etna's 
fires ! 

No more my soul a charm in music finds ; 

Music has charms alone for peaceful minds. 

Soft scenes of solitude no more can please ; 

Love enters there, and I 'm my own dis- 
ease. 

No more the Lesbian dames my passion 
move, 

Once the dear objects of my guilty love ; 

All other loves are lost in only thine, 

O youth, ungrateful to a flame like mine ! 

Whom would not all those blooming charms 
surprise, 21 

Those heav'nly looks, and dear deluding 
eyes ? 

The harp and bow would you like Phcebus 
bear, 

A brighter Phcebus Phaon might appear ; 

Would you with ivy wreathe your flowing 
hair. 

Not Bacchus' self with Phaon could com- 
pare : 

Yet Phoebus lov'd, and Bacchus felt the 
flame. 

One Daphne warm'd, and one the Cretan 
dame ; 



Nymphs that in verse no more could rival 

me. 
Than ev'n those Gods contend in charms 
with thee. 30 

The Muses teach me all their softest lays, 
And the wide world resounds with Sappho's 

praise. 
Tho' great Alcseus more sublimely sings. 
And strikes with bolder rage the sounding 

strings, 
No less renown attends the moving lyre, 
Which Venus tunes, and all her loves in- 
spire ; 
To me what Nature has in charms denied. 
Is well by Wit's more lasting flames sup- 
plied. 
Tho' short my stature, yet my name ex- 
tends 
To Heav'n itself, and earth's remotest 
ends. 40 

Brown as I am, an Ethiopian dame 
Inspired young Perseus with a gen'rous 

flame ; 
Turtles and doves of diff'rent hues unite. 
And glossy jet is pair'd with shining white. 
If to no charms thou wilt thy heart resign, 
But such as merit, such as equal thine. 
By none, alas ! by none thou canst be 

mov'd, 
Phaon alone by Phaon must be lov'd ! 
Yet once thy Sappho could thy cares em- 

Once in her arms you centred all your joy : 

No time the dear remembrance can re- 
move, 51 

For oh ! how vast a memory has Love ! 

My music, then, you could for ever hear, 

And all my words were music to your 
ear. 

You stopp'd with kisses my enchanting 
tongue, 

And found my kisses sweeter than my 
song. 

In all I pleas'd, but most in what was 
best; 

And the last joy was dearer than the rest. 

Then with each word, each glance, each 
motion fired, 

You still enjoy'd, and yet you still desired, 

Till, all dissolving, in the trance we lay, 61 

And in tumultuous raptures died away. 



SAPPHO TO PHAON 



6i 



The fair Sicilians now thy soul inflame; 
Why was I born, ye Gods, a Lesbian 

dame ? 
But ah, beware, Sicilian nymphs ! nor 

boast 
That wand'ring heart which I so lately 

lost; 
Nor be with all those tempting words 

abused, 
Those tempting words were all to Sappho 

used. 
And you that rule Sicilia's happy plains, 
Have pity, Venus, on your poet's pains ! 70 
Shall fortune still in one sad tenor run. 
And still increase the woes so soon begun ? 
Inured to sorrow from my tender years. 
My parents' ashes drank my early tears: 
My brother next, neglecting wealth and 

fame. 
Ignobly burn'd in a destructive flame : 
An infant daughter late my griefs in- 

creas'd. 
And all a mother's cares distract my 

breast. 
Alas ! what more could Fate itself impose. 
But thee, the last, and greatest of my 

woes ? 80 

No more my robes in waving purple flow. 
Nor on my hand the sparkling diamonds 

glow ; 
No more my locks in ringlets curl'd diffuse 
The costly sweetness of Arabian dews. 
Nor braids of gold the varied tresses bind, 
That fly disorder'd with the wanton wind: 
For whom should Sappho use such arts as 

these ? 
He 's gone, whom only she desired to 

please ! 
Cupid's light darts my tender bosom move; 
Still is there cause for Sappho still to 

love : 90 

So from my birth the sisters fix'd my 

doom. 
And gave to Venus all my life to come; 
Or, while my Muse in melting notes com- 
plains. 
My yielding heart keeps measure to my 

strains. 
By charms like thine which all my soul 

have won. 
Who might not — ah ! who would not be 

undone ? 
For those Aurora Cephalus might scorn. 
And with fresh blushes paint the conscious 

morn. 



For those might Cynthia lengthen Phaon's 
sleep, 99 

And bid Endymion nightly tend his sheep. 

Venus for those had rapt thee to the skies; 

But Mars on thee might look with Venus* 
eyes. 

O scarce a youth, yet scarce a tender boy! 

useful time for lovers to employ! 
Pride of thy age, and glory of thy race. 
Come to these arms, and melt in this em- 
brace I 

The vows you never will return, receive; 
And take, at least, the love you will not 

give. 
See, while I write, my words are lost in 

tears!. 
The less my sense, the more my love ap- 
pears, no 
Sure 't was not much to bid one kind adieu 
(At least to feign was never hard to you): 
* Farewell, my Lesbian love,' you might 

have said ; 
Or coldly thus, ' Farewell, O Lesbian 

maid ! ' 
No tear did you, no parting kiss receive. 
Nor knew I then how much I was to 

grieve. 
No lover's gift your Sappho could confer. 
And wrongs and woes were all you left 

with her. 
No charge I gave you, and no charge could 

give. 
But this, ' Be mindful of our loves, and 

live.' 120 

Now by the Nine, those powers ador'd by 

me. 
And Love, the God that ever waits on 

thee, 
When first I heard (from whom I hardly 

knew) 
That you were fled, and all my joys with 

you. 
Like some sad statue, speechless, pale, I 

stood. 
Grief chill'd my breast, and stopt my freez- 
ing blood; 
No sigh to rise, no tear had power to flow, 
Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe: 
But when its way th' impetuous passion 

found, 

1 rend my tresses, and my breast I wound; 
I rave, then weep; 1 curse, and then com- 
plain; 131 

Now swell to rage, now melt in tears 
again. 



62 



TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID 



Not fiercer pangs distract the mournful 
dame, 

Whose first-born infant feeds the funeral 
flame. 

My scornful brother with a smile appears, 

Insults my woes, and triumphs in my tears; 

His hated image ever haunts my eyes; 

* And why this grief ? thy daughter lives,' 
he cries. 

Stung with my love, and furious with de- 
spair, 

All torn my garments, and my bosom bare. 

My woes, thy crimes, I to tlie world pro- 
claim, 141 

Such inconsistent things are Love and 
Shame! 

'T is thou art all my care and my delight. 

My daily longing, and my dream by night: 

night more pleasing than the brightest 

day. 
When fancy gives what absence takes 

away, 
And, dress'd in all its visionary charms. 
Restores my fair deserter to my arms! 
Then round your neck in wanton wreaths 

I twine; 
Then you, methinks, as fondly circle mine: 
A thousand tender words I hear and 

speak; 151 

A thousand melting kisses give and take : 
Then fiercer joys — I blush to mention 

these, 
Yet, while I blush, confess how much they 

please. 
But when, with day, the sweet delusions 

And all things wake to life and joy but I, 
As if once more forsaken, I complain. 
And close my eyes to dream of you again: 
Then frantic rise, and like some fury rove 
Thro' lonely plains, and thro' the silent 
grove; 160 

As if the silent grove, and lonely plains. 
That knew my pleasures, could relieve my 
pains. 

1 view the grotto, once the scene of love, 
The rocks around, the hanging roofs above. 
That charm'd me more, with native moss 

o'ergrown. 

Than Phrygian marble, or the Parian 
stone : 

I find the shades that veil'd our joys be- 
fore; 

But, Phaon gone, those shades delight no 
more. 



Here the press'd herbs with bending tops 

betray 
Where oft entwin'd in am'rous folds we 

lay; 170 

I kiss that earth which once was press'd by 

you. 
And all with tears the with'ring herbs be- 
dew. 
For thee the fading trees appear to mourn. 
And birds defer their songs till thy return: 
Night shades the groves, and all in silence 

lie. 
All but the mournful Philomel and I: 
With mournful Philomel I join my strain, 
Of Tereus she, of Phaon I complain. 

A spring there is, whose silver waters 

show, 
Clear as a glass, the shining sands below: 
A flowery lotos spreads its arms above, 181 
Shades all the banks, and seems itself a 

grove ; 
Eternal greens the mossy margin grace, 
Watch'd by the sylvan genius of the place. 
Here as I lay, and swell'd with tears the 

flood, 
Before my sight a wat'ry virgin stood: 
She stood and cried, ' O you that love in 

vain! 
Fly hence, and seek the fair Leucadian 

main. 
There stands a rock, from whose impending 

steep 
Apollo's fane surveys the rolling deep; 190 
There injur'd lovers, leaping from above, 
Their flames extinguish, and forget to love. 
Deucalion once with hopeless fury burn'd; 
In vain he lov'd, relentless Pyrrha scorn'd; 
But when from hence he plunged into the 

main, 
Deucalion scorn'd, and Pyrrha lov'd in vain. 
Haste, Sappho, haste, from high Leucadia 

throw 
Thy wretched weight, nor dread the deeps 

below! ' 
She spoke, and vanish'd with the voice — I 

rise. 
And silent tears fall trickling from my 

eyes. 200 

I go, ye Nymphs! those rocks and seas to 

prove ; 
How much I fear, but ah, how much I 

love! 
I S^f ys Nymphs! where furious love in- 
spires, 
' Let female fears submit to female fires. 



THE FABLE OF DRYOPE 



63 



To rocks and seas I fly from Phaon's hate, 

And hope from seas and rocks a milder 
fate. 

Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow, 

And softly lay me on the waves below! 

And thou, kind Love, my sinking limbs ^ 
sustain. 

Spread thy soft wings, and waft me o'er 
the main, 210 

Nor let a lover's death the guiltless flood 
profane ; 

On Phoebus' shrine my harp I '11 then be- 
stow, 

And this inscription shall be placed below: 

' Here she who sung, to him that did in- 
spire, 

Sappho to Phcebus consecrates her lyre: 

What suits with Sappho, Phoebus, suits with 
thee; 

The Gift, the Giver, and the God agree.' 
But why, alas ! relentless youth, ah why 

To distant seas must tender Sappho fly ? 

Thy charms than those may far more 
powerful be, 220 

And Phcebus' self is less a God to me. 

Ah! canst thou doom me to the rocks and 
sea, 

Oh! far more faithless and more hard than 
they? 

Ah ! canst thou rather see this tender 
breast 

Dash'd on these rocks than to thy bosom 
press'd ? 

This breast which once, in vain! you liked 
so well 

Where the Loves play'd, and where the 
Muses dwell. 

Alas! the Muses now no more inspire; 

Untuned my lute, and silent is my lyre. 229 

My languid numbers have forgot to flow, 

And fancy sinks beneath a weight of woe. 

Ye Lesbian virgins, and ye Lesbian dames, 

Themes of my verse, and objects of my 
flames, 

No more your groves with my glad songs 
shall ring. 

No more these hands shall touch the trem- 
bling string: 

My Phaon 's fled, and I those arts resign ; 

(Wretch that I am, to call that Phaon 
mine!) 

Return, fair youth, return, and bring along 

Joy to my soul, and vigour to my song: 239 

Absent from thee, the poet's flame expires; 

But ah! how fiercely burn the lover's fires! 



Gods! can no prayers, no sighs, no numbers 

move 
One savage heart, or teach it how to love ? 
The winds my prayers, my sighs, my num- 
bers bear, 
The flying winds have lost them all in air! 
Oh when, alas! shall more auspicious gales 
To these fond eyes restore thy welcome 

sails! 
If you return — ah, why these long delays ? 
Poor Sappho dies while careless Phaon 

stays. 
O launch thy bark, nor fear the wat'ry 

plain; 250 

Venus for thee shall smooth her native 

main. 
O launch thy bark, secure of prosp'rous 

gales ; 
Cupid for thee shall spread the swelling 

sails. 
If you will fly — (yet ah ! what cause can be, 
Too cruel youth, that you should fly from 

me?) 
If not from Phaon I must hope for ease. 
Ah let me seek it from the raging seas: 
To raging seas unpitied I '11 remove, 
And either cease to live or cease to love ! 



THE FABLE OF DRYOPE 

FROM THE NINTH BOOK OF OVID'S 
METAMORPHOSES 

She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs ; 
When the fair consort of her son replies : 
* Since you a servant's ravish'd form be- 
moan, 
And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own, 
Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate 
A nearer woe, a sister's stranger fate. 
No nymph of all (Echalia could compare 
For beauteous form with Dryope the fair. 
Her tender mother's only hope and pride 
(Myself the offspring of a second bride). 10 
This nymph compress'd by him who rules 

the day, 
Whom Delphi and the Delian isle obey, 
Andrsemon lov'd ; and bless'd in all those 

charms 
That pleas'd a God, succeeded to her arms. 
' A lake there was with shelving banks 
around. 
Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles 
crown'd. 



64 



TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID 



These shades, unknowing of the fates, she 

sought. 
And to the Naiads flowery garlands 

brought : 
Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she 

prest 
Within her arms, and nourish'd at her 

breast. 20 

Not distant far a wat'ry lotos grows; 
The spring was new, and all the verdant 

boughs 
Adorn'd with blossoms, promis'd fruits that 

vie 
In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye. 
Of these she cropp'd, to please her infant 

son, 
And I myself the same rash act had done : 
But, lo! I saw (as near her side I stood) 
The violated blossoms drop with blood; 
Upon the tree I cast a frightful look; 
The trembling tree with sudden horror 

shook. 30 

Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true) 
As from Priapus' lawless lust she flew. 
Forsook her form, and, fixing here, became 
A flowery plant, which still preserves her 

name. 
* This change unknown, astonish'd at the 

sight, 
My trembling sister strove to urge her 

flight; 
And first the pardon of the Nymphs im- 

plor'd. 
And those offended sylvan Powers ador'd: 
But when she backward would have fled, 

she found 
Her stiff'ning feet were rooted in the 

ground: 40 

In vain to free her fasten'd feet she strove. 
And as she struggles only moves above; 
She feels th' encroaching bark around her 

grow 
By quick degrees, and cover all below: 
Surprised at this, her trembling hand she 

heaves 
To rend her hair; her hand is fill'd with 

leaves: 
Where late was hair the shooting leaves 

are seen 
To rise, and shade her with a sudden green. 
The child Amphissus, to her bosom prest, 
Perceiv'd a colder and a harder breast, 50 
And found the springs, that ne'er till then 

denied 
Their milky moisture, on a sudden dried. 



I saw, unhappy! what I now relate, 

And stood the helpless witness of thy fate; 

Embraced thy boughs, thy rising bark de- 

lay'd. 
There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade 

with shade. 
' Behold Andraemon and th' unhappy 

sire 
Appear, and for their Dryope inquire: 
A springing tree for Dryope they find, 
And print warm kisses on the panting rind; 
Prostrate, with tears, their kindred plant 

bedew, 61 

And close embrace as to the roots they 

grew. 
The face was all that now remain'd of 

thee. 
No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree; 
Thy branches hung with humid pearls ap- 
pear. 
From ev'ry leaf distils a trickling tear; 
And straight a voice, while yet a voice re- 
mains. 
Thus thro' the trembling boughs in sighs 

complains. 
* If to the wretched any faith be giv'n, 
I swear by all th' uupitying powers of 
Heav'n, 70 

No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred; 
In mutual innocence our lives we led : 
If this be false, let these new greens de- ' 

cay, 
Let sounding axes lop my limbs away. 
And crackling flames on all my honours 

prey. 
But from my branching arms this infant 

bear; 
Let some kind nurse supply a mother's 

care; 
And to his mother let him oft be led, 
Sport in her shades, and in her shades be 

fed. 
Teach him, when first his infant voice shall 

frame 80 

Imperfect words, and lisp his mother's 

name. 
To hail this tree, and say with weeping 

eyes, 
" Within this plant my hapless parent lies: " 
And when in youth he seeks the shady 

woods. 
Oh! let him fly the crystal lakes and floods. 
Nor touch the fatal flowers; but, waru'd by 

me. 
Believe a Goddess shrined in every tree. 



VERTUMNUS AND POMONA 



65 



My sire, my sister, and my spouse, farewell ! 
If in your breasts or love or pity dwell, 
Protect your plant, nor let my branches 

feel 90 

The browsing cattle or the piercing steel. 
Farewell ! and since I cannot bend to join 
My lips to yours, advance at least to mine. 
My son, thy mother's parting kiss receive, 
While yet thy mother has a kiss to give. 
I can no more; the creeping rind invades 
My closing lips, and hides my head in 

shades : 
Remove your hands; the bark shall soon 

suffice 
Without their aid to seal these dying eyes.' 
* She ceas'd at once to speak and ceas'd 

to be, 100 

And all the Nymph was lost within the 

tree; 
Yet latent life thro' her new branches reign 'd 
And long the plant a human heat retain'd.' 



VERTUMNUS AND POMONA 

FROM THE FOURTEENTH BOOK OF OVID's 
METAMORPHOSES 

The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign ; 

Of all the virgins of the sylvan train 

None taught the trees a nobler race to 
bear, 

Or more improv'd the vegetable care. 

To her the shady grove, the flowery field. 

The streams and fountains no delights 
could yield; 

'T was all her joy the ripening fruits to 
tend. 

And see the boughs with happy burdens 
bend. 

The hook she bore instead of Cynthia's 
spear. 

To lop the growth of the luxuriant year, lo 

To decent form the lawless shoots to bring. 

And teach th' obedient branches where to 
spring. 

Now the cleft rind inserted grafts receives. 

And yields an offspring more than Nature 
gives ; 

Now sliding streams the thirsty plants re- 
new. 

And feed their fibres with reviving dew. 
These cares alone her virgin breast em- 
ploy, 

Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy. 



Her private orchards, wall'd on every side, 
To lawless sylvans all access denied. 20 

How oft the Satyrs and the wanton Fauns, 
Who haunt the forests or frequent the 

lawns, 
The God whose ensign scares the birds of 

prey, 
And old Silenus, youthful in decay, 
Employ'd their wiles and unavailing care 
To pass the fences, and surprise the Fair ? 
Like these Vertumnus own'd his faithful 

flame. 
Like these rejected by the scornful dame. 
To gain her sight a thousand forms he 

wears ; 
And first a reaper from the field appears : 30 
Sweating he walks, while loads of golden 

grain 
O'ercharge the shoulders of the seeming 

swain: 
Oft o'er his back a crooked scythe is laid. 
And wreaths of hay his sunburnt temples 

shade: 
Oft in his harden'd hand a goad he bears. 
Like one who late unyoked the sweating 

steers: 
Sometimes his pruning-hook corrects the 

vines, 
And the loose stragglers to their ranks 

confines: 
Now gath'ring what the bounteous year 

allows, 
He pulls ripe apples from the bending 

boughs : 40 

A soldier now, he with his sword appears; 
A fisher next, his trembling angle bears: 
Each shape he varies, and each art he 

tries. 
On her bright charms to feast his longing 

eyes. 
A female form at last Vertumnus wears, 
With all the marks of rev'rend age ap- 
pears. 
His temples thinly spread with silver hairs : 
Propp'd on his staff, and stooping as he 

goes, 
A painted mitre shades his furrow'd brows. 
The God in this decrepit form array'd, 50 
The gardens enter'd, and the fruit sur- 
vey 'd; 
And, ' Happy you ! ' he thus address'd the 

maid, 
* Whose charms as far all other nymphs 

outshine, 
As other gardens are excell'd by thine ■! * 



66 



TRANSLATIONS FROM OVID 



Then kiss'd the Fair; (his kisses warmer 

grow 
Than such as women on their sex bestow) 
Then placed beside her on the flowery 

ground, 
Beheld the trees with autumn's bounty 

crown'd. 
An elm was near, to whose embraces led, 
The curling vine her swelling clusters 

spread: . 60 

He view'd her twining branches with de- 

light, 
And prais'd the beauty of the pleasing sight. 
' Yet this tall elm, but for this vine,' he 

said, 
" Had stood neglected, and a barren shade; 
And this fair vine, but that her arms sur- 
round 
Her married elm, had crept along the 

ground. 
Ah! beauteous maid! let this example move 
Your mind, averse from all the joys of 

love. 
Deign to be lov'd, and every heart subdue! 
What Nymph could e'er attuact such crowds 

as you ? 70 

Not she whose beauty urged the Centaur's 

arms, 
Ulysses' queen, nor Helen's fatal charms. 
Ev'n now, when silent scorn is all they 

gain, 
A thousand court you, tho' they court in 

vain, 
A thousand Sylvans, Demigods, and Gods, 
That haunt our mountains and our Alban 

woods. 
But if you '11 prosper, mark what I advise, 
Whom age and long experience render wise, 
And one whose tender care is far above 
All that these lovers ever felt of love 80 
(Far more than e'er can by yourself be 

guess'd) ; 
Fix on Vertumnus, and reject the rest: 
For his firm faith I dare engage my own; 
Scarce to himself himself is better known. 
To distant lands Vertumnus never roves; 
Like you, contented with his native groves; 
Nor at first sight, like most, admires the 

Fair; 
For you he lives ; and you alone shall share 
His last affection as his early care. 



Besides, he 's lovely far above the rest, 90 
With youth immortal, and with beauty 

blest. 
Add, that he varies every shape with ease, 
And tries all forms that may Pomona 

please. 
But what should most excite a mutual flame, 
Your rural cares and pleasures are the 

same. 
To him your orchard's early fruits are due 
(A pleasing off'ring when 't is made by 

you); 
He values these; but yet, alas! complains 
That still the best and dearest gift remains. 
Not the fair fruit that on yon branches 

glows , 100 

With that ripe red th' autumnal sun be- 
stows ; 

Nor tasteful herbs that in these gardens 
rise. 

Which the kind soil with milky sap sup- 
plies; 

You, only you, can move the God's desire. 

O crown so constant and so pure a fire! 

Let soft compassion touch your gentle 
nuind ; 

Think 'tis Vertumnus begs you to be kind: 

So may no frost, when early buds appear, 

Destroy the promise of the youthful 3'ear; 

Nor winds, when first your florid orchard 
blows, ' 1 10 

Shake the light blossoms from their blasted 
boughs ! ' 
This, when the various God had urged in 
vain. 

He straight assumed his native form again: 

Such, and so bright an aspect now he 
bears. 

As when thro' clouds th' emerging sun ap- 
pears. 

And thence exerting his refulgent ray. 

Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day. 

Force he prepared, but check'd the rash 
design; 

For when, appearing in a form divine, 

The Nymph surveys him, and beholds the 
grace 120 

Of charming features and a youthful face. 

In her soft breast consenting passions move. 

And the warm maid confess'd a mutual 
love. 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



67 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



This, the first mature original work of the author, was written in 1709, when Pope was in his 
twentieth year. It was not published till 1711. 



PART I 

Introduction. That it is as great a fault to 
judge ill as to write ill, and a more danger- 
ous one to the public. That a true Taste is 
as rare to be found as a true Genius. That 
most men are born with some Taste, but 
spoiled by false education. The multitude 
of Critics, and causes of them. That we are 
to study our own Taste, and know the limits 
of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. 
Improved by Art and rules, which are but 
methodized Nature. Rules derived from the 
practice of the ancient poets. That therefore 
the ancients are necessary to be studied by a 
Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of 
licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. 
Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of 
them. , 

'T IS hard to say if greater want of skill 

Appear in writing or in judging ill; 

But of the two less dangerous is th' of- 
fence 

To tire our patience than mislead our sense : 

Some few in that, but numbers err in this; 

Ten censure wrong for one who writes 
amiss ; 

A fool might once himself alone expose; 

Now one in verse makes many more in 
prose. 
'T is with our judgments as our watches, 
none 

Go just alike, yet each believes his own. 10 
^ In Poets as true Genius is but rare, 

True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share ; 

Both must alike from Heav'n derive their 
light. 

These born to judge, as well as those to 
write. 

Let such teach others who themselves ex- 
cel, 

And censure freely who have written well ; 

Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true. 

But are not Critics to their judgment 
too? 
Yet if we look more closely, we shall 
find 

Most have the seeds of judgment in their 
mind: 20 



Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light; 
The lines, tho' touched but faintly, are drawn 

right : 
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced, 1 
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced, > 
So by false learning is good sense defaced : j 
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of 

schools. 
And some made coxcombs Nature meant 

but fools: 
In search of wit these lose their common 

sense. 
And then turn Critics in their own defence: 
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write. 
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite. 31 
All fools have still an itching to deride, 
And fain would be upon the laughing side. 
If M?evius scribble in Apollo's spite, 
There are who judge still worse than he 

can write. 
Some have at first for Wits, then Poets 

pass'd; 
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools 

at last. 
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass, 
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass. 
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in 

our isle, 40 

As half-form'd insects on the banks of 

Nile ; 
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to 

call, 
Their generation 's so equivocal ; 
To tell them would a hundred tongues re- 
quire, 
Or one vain Wit's, that might a hundred 

tire. 
But you who seek to give and merit 

fame. 
And justly bear a Critic's noble name. 
Be sure yourself and your own reach to 

know, 
How far your Genius, Taste, and Learning 

go, 

Launch not beyond your depth, but be dis- 
creet, so 

And mark that point where Sense and Dul- 
ness meet. 






aT^ 






68 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit, 
And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending 

wit. 
As on the land while here the ocean 

gains, 
In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains; 
Thus in the soul while Memory prevails. 
The solid power of Understanding fails ; 
Where beams of warm Imagination play, 
The Memory's soft figures melt away. 
One Science only will one genius fit; 60 
So vast is Art, so narrow human wit: 
Not only bounded to peculiar arts. 
But oft in those confin'd to single parts. 
Like Kings we lose the conquests gain'd 

before. 
By vain ambition still to make them more : 
Each might his sev'ral province well com- 
mand. 
Would all but stoop to what they under- 
^^ stand. 

First follow Nature, and your judgment 
frame 
By her just standard, which is still the 
^ same ; 

"m Unerring Nature, still divinely bright, 70 
One clear, unchanged, and universal light. 
Life, force, and beauty must to all impart, 
At once the source, and end, and test of 

Art. 
Art from that fund each just supply pro- 
vides, 
Works without show, and without pomp 

presides. 
In some fair body thus th' informing soul 
With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the 

whole; 
Each motion guides, and every nerve sus- 
tains. 
Itself unseen, but in th* effects remains. 
Some, to whom Heav'n in wit has been pro- 
fuse, 80 
Want as much more to turn it to its use ; 
For Wit and Judgment often are at strife, 
TKo' meant each other's aid, like man and 

wife. 
'T is more to guide than spur the Muse's 

steed7 
Restrain his fury than provoke his speed : 
The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse, 
Shows most true mettle when you check 

his course. 
^\ Those rides of old, discover'd, not de-\ 

vised, 
Are Nature still, but Nature methodized; 



Nature, like Liberty, is but restrain'd 90 
By the same laws which first herself or- 
dain 'd. 
Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules 

indites 
When to repress and when indulge our 

flights : 
High on Parnassus' top her sons she 

show'd. 
And pointed out those arduous paths they 

trod; 
Held from afar, aloft, th' immortal prize. 
And urged the rest by equal steps to rise. 
Just precepts thus from great examples 

giv'n, 
She drew from them what they derived 

from Heav'n. 
The gen'rous Critic fann'd the poet's fire. 
And taught the world with reason to ad- 
mire. 10 1 
Then Criticism the Muse's handmaid 

prov'd. 
To dress her charms, and make her more 

belov'd: 
But following Wits from that intention 

stray 'd: 
Who could not win the mistress woo'd the 

maid; 
Against the Poets their own arms they 

turn'd, 
Sure to hate most the men from whom 

they learn'd. 
So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art 
By doctors' bills to play the doctor's part, 
Bold in the practice of mistaken rules, no 
Prescribe, apply, and call their masters 

fools. 
Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey ; 
Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as 

they; 
Some drily plain, without invention's aid, 
Write dull receipts how poems may be 

made; 
These leave the sense their learning to 

display. 
And those explain the meaning quite away. 
You then whose judgment the right course 

would steer. 
Know well each ancient's proper character; 
His fable, subject, scope in every page; 120 
Religion, country, genius of his age: 
Without ail these at once before your eyes, 
Cavil you may, but never criticise. 
Be Homer's works your study and delight,\ 
Read them by day, and meditate by night: 



1.1b 



1^0. 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



69 



Thence form your judgment, thence your 
maxims bring, 

And trace the Muses upward to their spring. 

Still with itself compared, his text peruse; 

And let your comment be the Mantuan 
Muse. 
When first young Maro in his boundless 
mind 130 

A work t' outlast immortal Rome design'd, 

Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law, 

And but from Nature's fountains seorn'd to 
draw; 

But when t' examine ev'ry part he came, 

Nature and Homer were, he found, the 
same. 

Convinced, amazed, he checks the bold^ 
design. 

And rules as strict his labour'd work con- 
fine 

As if the Stagyrite o'erlook'd each line. 

Learn hence for ancient rules a just es- 
teem; 

To copy Nature is to copy them. 7 140 
- Some beauties yet no precepts can de- 
clare. 

For there 's a happiness as well as care. 

Music resembles poetry; in each 

Are nameless graces which no methods 
teach, 

And which a master-hand alone can reach. ^ 

If, where the rules not far enough extend, 

(Since rules were made but to promote their 
end) 

Some lucky license answer to the full 

Th' intent proposed, that license is a rule. 

Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take, 150 

May boldly deviate from the common track. 

Great Wits sometimes may gloriously of- 
fend, 

And rise to faults true Critics dare not 
mend ; 

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder 
part. 

And snatch a grace beyond the reach o f Artj^ 

W hicli, without passing thro' the judg- 
ment, gains 

The heart, and all its end at once attains. 

In prospects thus some objects please our 
eyes, 

Which out of Nature's common order rise. 

The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice. 

But tho' the ancients thus their rules in- 
vade, 161 

(As Kings dispense with laws themselves 
^ have made) 



Moderns, beware! or if you must offend 
Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end ; 
Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need ; 
And have at least their precedent to plead; 
The Critic else proceeds without remorse. 
Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in 
force. 
I know there are to whose presumptu- 
ous thoughts 
Those freer beauties, ev'n in them, seem 
faults. 170 

Some figures monstrous and misshaped ap- 
pear, 
Consider'd singly, or beheld too near, 
Which, but proportion'd to their light or 

place. 
Due distance reconciles to form and grace. 
A prudent chief not always must display 
His powers in equal ranks and fair array, 
But with th' occasion and the place comply. 
Conceal his force, nay, seem sometimes to 

fly. 

Those oft are stratagems which errors 

seem. 
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream. 
Still green with bays each ancient altar 

stands 181 

Above the reach of sacrilegious hands. 
Secure from flames, from Envy's fiercer 

rage, 
Destructive war, and all-involving Age. 
See from each clime the learn'd their incense 

bring! 
Hear in all tongues consenting paeans ring! 
In praise so just let ev'ry voice be join'd. 
And fill the gen'ral chorus of mankind. 
Hail, Bards triumphant! born in happier 

days. 
Immortal heirs of universal praise! 190 

Whose honours with increase of ages grow. 
As streams roll down, enlarging as they 

flow; 
Nations unborn your mighty names shall 

sound. 
And worlds applaud that must not yet be 

found ! 
O may some spark of your celestial fire 
The last, the meanest of your sons inspire, 
(That on weak wings, from far, pursues 

your flights. 
Glows while he reads, but trembles as he 

writes) 
To teach vain Wits a science little known, 
T' admire superior sense, and doubt their 

own. 200 



70 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



PART II 

Causes hindering- a true judgment. Pride. 
Imperfect learning. Judging- by parts, and 
not by the whole. Critics in wit, language, 
versification only. Being- too hard to please, 
or too apt to admire. Partiality — too much 
love to a sect — to the ancients or mod- 
erns. Prejudice or prevention. Singularity. 
Inconstancy. Party spirit. Envy. Against 
envy, and in praise of good-nature. When 
severity is chiefly to be used by critics. 

Of all the causes which conspire to blind 
Man's erring judgment, and misguide the 

mind, 
What the weak head with strongest bias 

rules. 
Is Pride, the never failing vice of fools. 
W^hatever Nature has in worth denied 
She gives in large recruits of needful Pride: 
For as in bodies, thus in souls, we find 
W^hat wants in blood and spirits swell'd 

with wind: 
Pride, where Wit fails, steps in to our de- 
fence, 
And fills up all the mighty void of Sense: lo 
If once right Reason drives that cloud away, 
Truth breaks upon us with resistless day. 
Trust not yourself; but your defects to 

know, 
Make use of ev'ry friend — and ev'ry foe. 

A little learning is a dangerous thing; 
Drmk deep, or taste not the Pierian spring: 
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain. 
And drinking largely sobers us again. 
Fired at first sight with what the Muse 

imparts, 
In fearless youth we tempt the heights of 

arts, 20 

While from the bounded level of our mind 
Short views we take, nor see the lengths 

behind : 
But more advanc'd, behold with strange 

surprise 
New distant scenes of endless science rise! 
So pleas'd at first the tow'ring Alps we 

try, 
Mount o'er the vales, and seem to tread the 

sky; 
Th' eternal snows appear already past, 
And the first clouds and mountains seem the 

last: 
But those attain'd, we tremble to survey 
The growing labours of the lengthen'd 

way; 30 



Th' increasing prospect tires our wand'ring 

eyes. 
Hills peep o'er hills, and Alps on Alps 

arise! 
A perfect judge will read each work of 

wit 
With the same spirit that its author writ; 
Survey the whole, nor seek slight faults to 

find 
Where Nature moves, and Rapture warms 

the mind: 
Nor lose, for that malignant dull delight, 
The gen'rous pleasure to be charm'd with 

wit. 
But in such lays as neither ebb nor flow, 
Correctly cold, and regularly low, 40 

That shunning faults one quiet tenor keep, 
We cannot blame indeed — but we may 

sleep. 
In Wit, as Nature, what affects our hearts 
Is not th' exactness of peculiar parts; y v. 

'T is not a lip or eye we beauty call, (iVn'W'^ 
But the joint force and full result of all. /\f> 'r/ 
Thus when we view some well proportion'd 

dome, 
(The world's just wonder, and ev'n thine, O 

Rome!) 
No single parts unequally surprise, 
All comes united to th' admiring eyes; 50 
No monstrous height, or breadth, or length, 

appear; 
The whole at once is bold and regular. 

W^hoever thinks a faultless piece to see, 
Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall 

be. 
In eve ry work reg-ardhhhe_ writer's e nd, 
Since none can conipass more than they in- 

tend ; 



And if~tiT§Tiieans be just, the conduct true. 
Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due. 
As men of breeding, sometimes men of 

wit, 
T' avoid great errors must the less commit; 
Neglect the rules each verbal critic lays, 61 
For not to know some trifles is a praise. 
Most critics, fond of some subservient art, 
Still make the whole depend upon a part: 
They talk of Principles, but Notions prize, 
And all to one lov'd folly sacrifice. 

Once on a time La Mancha's Knight, 

they say, 
A certain bard encount'ring on the way, 
Discours'd in terms as just, with looks as 

sage. 
As e'er could Dennis, of the Grecian Stage; 



Vi^-S^ WNi^K- 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



71 



Concluding all were desperate sots and 
fools 71 

Who durst depart from Aristotle's rules. 
Our author, happy in a judge so nice, 
Produced his play, and begg'd the knight's 

advice ; 
Made him observe the Subject and the Plot, 
The Manners, Passions, Unities ; what not ? 
All which exact to rule were brought about. 
Were but a combat in the lists left out. 

* What! leave the combat out ? ' exclaims 

the knight. 
^Yes, or we must renounce the Stagyrite.' 

* Not so, by Heaven ! (he answers in a 

rage) 81 

Knights, squires, and steeds must enter on 
the stage.' 

* So vast a throng the stage can ne'er con- 

tain.' 

* Then build a new, or act it in a plain.' 

Thus critics of less judgment than ca- 
price. 
Curious, not knowing, not exact, but nice. 
Form short ideas, and offend in Arts 
(As most in Manners), by a love to parts. 

Some to Conceit alone their taste confine, 
And glitt'ring thoughts struck out at every 

line; 90 

Pleas'd with a work where nothing 's just or 

fit. 
One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit. 
Poets, like painters, thus unskill'd to trace 
The naked nature and the living grace. 
With gold and jewels cover every part, 
J( And hide with ornaments their want of Art. 
f True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd. 
What oft was thought, but ne'er so well ex- 

press'd ; 
Something whose truth convinced at sight 

we find, 
That gives us back the image of our mind. 
As shades more sweetly recommend the 

light, loi 

So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit: 
For works may have more wit than does 

them good, 
As bodies perish thro' excess of blood. 

Others for language all their care express, 
And value books, as women men, for dress: 
Their praise is still — the Style is excel° 

lent; 
The Sense they humbly take upon contento 
Words are like leaves; and where they 

most abound, 
Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found. 



False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, nr 
Its gaudy colours spreads on every place; 
The face of Nature we no more survey, 
All glares alike, without distinction gay; 
But true expression, like th' unchanging 

sun, 
Clears and improves whate'er it shines 

upon; 
It gilds all objects, but it alters none. 
Expression is the dress of thought, and still / 
Appears more decent as more suitable. / 
A vile Conceit in pompous words express'dj- 
Is like a clown in regal purple dress'd: 121 
For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects 

sort. 
As sev'ral garbs with country, town, and 

court. 
Some by old words to fame have made 

pretence, 
Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their 

sense; 
Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a 

style, 
Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned 

smile; 
Unlucky as Fungoso in the play. 
These sparks with awkward vanity display 
What the fine gentleman wore yesterday; 
And but so mimic ancient wits at best, 131 
As apes our grandsires in their doublets 

drest. 
In words as fashions the same rule will hold. 
Alike fantastic if too new or old: 
Be not the first by whom the new are tried, 
Nor yet the last to lay the old aside. 

But most by Numbers judge a poet's 

song. 
And smooth or rough with them is right or 

wrong. 
In the bright Muse tho' thousand charms 

conspire, 139 

Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire; 
Who haunt Parnassus but to please their "" 

ear. 
Not mend their minds; as some to church 

repair. 
Not for the doctrine,but the music there. 
These equal syllables alone require, 
Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire. 
While expletives their feeble aid do join. 
And ten low words oft creep in one dull 

line: 
While ^Key ring round the same unvaried 

chimes, 
With sure returns of still expected rhymes; 



72 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



Where'er you find * the pooling western 

breeze,' 150 

In the next line, it ' whispers thro' _the 

trees;' 
If crystal streams * with pleasing murmurs 

creep,' 
The reader 's threaten'd (not in vain) with 

* sleep;' 
Then, at the last and only couplet, fraught 
With some unmeaning thing they call a 

thought, 
A needless Alexandrine ends the song, 
^^ That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow 
-^, length along. 

Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, 

and know 
What's roundly smooth, or languishingly 

slow ; 
And praise the easy vigour of a line 160 
Where Denham's strength and Waller's 

sweetness join. 
True ease in writing comes from Art, not 

Chance, 
As those move easiest who have learn'd to 

dance. 
'T is not enough no harshness gives offence ; 
The sound must seem an echo to the sense. 
Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows. 
And the smooth stream in smoother num- 
bers flows ; 
But when loud surges lash the sounding 

shore. 
The hoarse rough verse should like the tor- 
rent roar. 
When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight 

to throw, 170 

The line, too, labours, and the words move 

slow : 
Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, 
Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims 

along the main. 
Hear how Timotheus' varied lays surprise. 
And bid alternate passions fall and rise! 
While at each change the son of Libyan 

Jofve 
Now burns with glory, and then melts with 

love; 
Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury 

glow, 
Now sighs steal out, and tears begin to 

flow: 
Persians and Greeks like turns of nature 

found, 180 

And the world's Victor stood subdued by 

sound 2 



The power of music all our hearts allow, 

And what Timotheus was is Dryden now. 
Avoid extremes, and shun the fault of 
such 

Who still are pleas'd too little or too much. 

At ev'ry trifle scorn to take offence; 

That always shows great pride or little 
sense: 

Those heads, as stomachs, are not sure the 
best 

Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest. 

Yet let not each gay turn thy rapture 
move ; 190 

For fools admire, but men of sense ap- 
prove : 

As things seem large which we thro' mist 
descry, 

Dulness is ever apt to magnify. 
I Some foreign writers, some our own de- 

/ spise; 

The ancients only, or the moderns prize. 

Thus Wit, like Faith, by each man is ap- 
plied 

To one small sect, and all are damn'd be- 
side. 

Meanly they seek the blessing to confine, 

And force that sun but on a part to shine, 

Which not alone the southern wit sub- 
limes, 200 

But ripens spirits in cold northern climes; 

Which from the first has shone on ages 
past, 

Enlights the present, and shall warm the 
last; 

Tho' each may feel increases and decays. 

And see now clearer and now darker days. 

Regard not then if wit be old or new. 

But blame the False and value still the 
True. 
Some ne'er advance a judgment of their 
own, 

But catch the spreading notion of the town ; 

They reason and conclude by precedent, 210 

And own stale nonsense which they ne'er 
invent. 

Some judge of authors' names, not works, 
and then 

Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the 
men. 

Of all this servile herd, the worst is he 

That in proud dulness joins with quality; 

A constant critic at the great man's board, 

To fetch and carry nonsense for my lord. 

What woful stuff this madrigal would be 

In some starv'd hackney sonneteer or me ! 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



73 



But let a lord once own the bappy lines, 

How the Wit brightens! how the Style re- 
fines! 221 

Before his sacred name flies every fault, 

And each exalted stanza teems with 
thought! 
The vulgar thus thro' imitation err, 

As oft the learn'd by being_siiigulari___^ 

So much they scorn the crowd, that if^ the 
throng 

By chance go right, they purposely go 
wrong. 

So schismatics the plain believers quit. 

And are but damn'd for having too much 
wit. 

Some praise at morning what they blame 
at night, 230 

But always think the last opinion right. 

A Muse by these is like a mistress used, 

This hour she 's idolized, the next abused; 

While their weak heads, like towns unfor- 
tified, 

'Twixt sense and nonsense daily change 
their side. 

Ask them the cause ; they 're wiser still 
they say; 

And still to-morrow 's wiser than to-day. 

We think our fathers fools, so wise we 
grow; 

Our wiser sons no doubt will think us so. 

Once school-divines this zealous isle o'er- 
spread; 240 

Who knew most sentences was deepest 
read. 

Faith, Gospel, all seem'd made to be dis- 
puted. 

And none had sense enough to be confuted. 

Scotists and Thomists now in peace re- 
main 

Amidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck- 
lane. 

If Faith itself has difP'rent dresses worn. 

What wonder modes in Wit should take 
their turn ? 

Oft, leaving what is natural and fit. 

The current Folly proves the ready Wit; 

And authors think their reputation safe, 250 

Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to 
laugh. 
Some, valuing those of their own side or 
mind, 

Still make themselves the measure of man- 
kind: 

Fondly we think we honour merit then. 

When we but praise ourselves in other men. 



Parties in wit attend on those of state. 
And public faction doubles private hate. 
Pride, Malice, Folly, against Dryden rose, 
In various shapes of parsons, critics, beaux: 
But sense survived when merry jests were 

past; 260 

For rising merit will buoy up at last. 
Might he return and bless once more our 

eyes. 
New Blackmores and new Milbournes 

must arise. 
Nay, should great Homer lift his awful 

head, 
Zoilus again would start up from the dead. 
Envy will Merit as its shade pursue. 
But like a'^Kadow proves the substance 

true; 
For envied Wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes 

known 
Th' opposing body's grossness, not its own. 
When first that sun too powerful beams 

displays, 270 

It draws up vapours which obscure its 

rays; 
But ev'n those clouds at last adorn its way, 
Reflect new glories, and augment the day. 
Be thou the first true merit to befriend; 
His praise is lost who stays till all com- 

mend. 
Short is the date, alas ! of modern rhymes, 
And 'tis but just to let them live betimes. 
No longer now that Golden Age appears. 
When patriarch wits survived a thousand 

years: 
Now length of fame (our second life) is 

lost, 280 

And bare threescore is all ev'n that can 

boast: 
Our sons their fathers' failing language see, 
And such as Chaucer is shall Dryden be. 
So when the faithful pencil has design'd 
Some bright idea of the master's mind. 
Where a new world leaps out at his com- 
mand. 
And ready Nature waits upon his hand; 
When the ripe colours soften and unite, 
And sweetly melt into just shade and 

light; 
When mellowing years their full perfection 

give, 290 

And each bold figure just begins to live, 
The treach'rous colours the fair art be- 
tray, 
And all the bright creation fades away ! 
Unhappy Wit, like most mistaken things, 



74 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



Atones not for that envy which it brings: 
In youth alone its empty praise we boast, 
But soon the short-lived vanity is lost; 
Like some fair flower the early Spring sup- 
plies, 
That gaily blooms, but ev'n in blooming 

dies. 
What is this Wit, which must our cares em- 



ploy 



300 



The owner's wife that other men enjoy; 

Then most our trouble still when most ad- 
mired. 

And still the more we give, the more re- 
quired; 

Whose fame with pains we guard, but lose 
with ease, 

Sure some to vex, but never all to please, 

'Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous 
shun ; 

By fools 't is hated, and by knaves un- 
done ! 
If Wit so much from Ignorance un- 
dergo. 

Ah, let not Learning too commence its 
foe! 

Of old those met rewards who could ex- 
cel, 310 

And such were prais'd who but endeavour'd 
well; 

Tho' triumphs were to gen'rals only due, 

Crowns were reserv'd to grace the soldiers 
too. 

Now they who reach Parnassus' lofty 
crown 

Employ their pains to spurn some others 
down ; 

And while self-love each jealous writer 
rules, 

Contending wits become the sport of fools; 

But still the worst with most regret com- 
mend. 

For each ill author is as bad a friend. 

To what base ends, and by what abject 
ways, 320 

Are mortals urged thro' sacred lust of 
praise ! 

Ah, ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast. 

Nor in the critic let the man be lost ! 

Good nature and good sense must ever 
join; 

To err is human, to forgive divine. 

But if in noble minds some dregs re- 
main, 

Not yet purged off, of spleen and sour dis- 
dain, 



Discharge that rage on more provoking 
crimes, 

Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times. 

No pardon vile obscenity should find, 330 

Tho' Wit and Art conspire to move your 
mind ; 

But dulness with obscenity must prove 

As shameful sure as impotence in love. 

In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and 
ease 

Sprung the rank weed, and thrived with 
large increase : 

When love was all an easy monarch's care. 

Seldom at council, never in a war; 

Jilts ruled the state, and statesmen farces 
writ ; 

Nay wits had pensions, and young lords had 
wit ; 339 

The Fair sat panting at a courtier's play, 

And not a mask went unimprov'd away ; 

The modest fan was lifted up no more. 

And virgins smil'd at what they blush'd 
before. 

The following license of a foreign reign 

Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain ; 

Then unbelieving priests reform'd the na- 
tion. 

And taught more pleasant methods of sal- 
vation ; 

Where Heav'n's free subjects might their 
rights dispute. 

Lest God himself should seem too abso- 
lute ; 349 

Pulpits their sacred satire learn'd to spare. 

And vice admired to find a flatt'rer there ! 

Encouraged thus. Wit's Titans braved the 
skies. 

And the press groan'd with licens'd blas- 
phemies. 

These monsters. Critics ! with your darts 
engage. 

Here point your thunder, and exhaust your 
rage ! 

Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously 
nice. 

Will needs mistake an author into vice : 

All seems infected that th' infected spy, 

As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye. 



PART III 

Rules for the conduct and manners in a Critic. 
Candour. Modesty. Good breeding-. Sin- 
cerity and freedom of advice. nWhen one's 
counsel is to be restrained. Character of an 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



75 



incori'ig'ible poet. And of an impertinent 
critic^ ^Character of a good critic^' The his- 
tory of criticism, and characters of tlie best 
critics ; Aristotle. Horace. Dionysius. Pe- 
tronius. Quintilian. Longinus. Of the decay 
of Criticism, and its revival. Erasmus. Vida. 
Boileau. Lord Roscommon, &,c. Conclu- 



Learn then what morals Critics ought to 
show, 

For 'tis but half a judge's task to know. 

'T is not enough Taste, Judgment, Learning 
join; 

In all you speak let Truth and Candour 
shine ; 

That not alone what to your Sense is due 

All may allow, but seek your friendship 
too. 
Be silent always when you doubt your 
Sense, 

And speak, tho' sure, with seeming diffi- 
dence. 

Some positive persisting fops we know, 

Who d once wrong will needs be always 
so; lo 

But you with pleasure own your errors 
past. 

And make each day a critique on the 
last. 
'T is not enough your counsel still be 
true ; 

Blunt truths more mischief than nice false- 
hoods do. 

Men must be taught as if you taught them 
not. 

And things unknown proposed as things 
forgot. 

Without good breeding truth is disap- 
prov'd ; 

That only makes superior Sense belov'd. 
Be niggards of advice on no pretence. 

For the worst avarice is that of Sense. 20 

With mean complacence ne'er betray your 
trust. 

Nor be so civil as to prove unjust. 

Fear not the anger of the wise to raise ; 

Those best can bear reproof who merit 
praise. 
'T were well might critics still this free- 
dom take, 

But Appius reddens at each word you speak. 

And stares tremendous, with a threat'ning 
eye, 

Like some fierce tyrant in old tapestry. 

Fear most to tax an honourable fool, 



Whose right it is, uncensured to be dull : 30 

Such without Wit, are poets when they 
please, 

As without Learning they can take degrees. 

Leave dangerous truths to unsuccessful 
satires. 

And flattery to fulsome dedicators ; 

Whom, when they praise, the world be- 
lieves no more 

Than when they promise to give scribbling 
o'er. 

'T is best sometimes your censure to re- 
strain. 

And charitably let the dull be vain ; 

Your silence there is better than your spite, 

For who can rail so long as they can 
write ? 40 

Still humming on their drowsy course they 
keep, 

And lash'd so long, like tops, are lash'd 
asleep. 

False steps but help them to renew the 
race, 

As, after stumbling, jades will mend their 
pace. 

What crowds of these, impenitently bold, 

In sounds and jingling syllables grown 
old. 

Still run on poets, in a raging vein, 

Ev'n to the dregs and squeeziugs of the 
brain, 

Strain out the last dull droppings of their 
sense. 

And rhyme with all the rage of impo- 
tence ! 50 
Such shameless bards we have ; and yet 
't is true 

There are as mad abandon'd critics too. 

The bookful blockhead ignorantly read. 

With loads of learned lumber in liis head, 

With his own tongue still edifies his ears. 

And always list'ning to himself appears. 

All books he reads, and all he reads as- 
sails, 

From Drj^den's Fables down to Durfey's 
Tales. 

With him most authors steal their works, 
or buy ; 

Garth did not write his own Dispensary. 60 

Name a new play, and he 's the poet's friend ; 

Nay, show'd his faults — but when would 
poets mend ? 

No place so sacred from such fops is barr'd, 

Nor is Paul's church more safe than Paul's 
churchyard : 



76 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



Nay, fly to altars ; there they '11 talk you 
dead ; 

For fools rush in where angels fear to tread. 

Distrustful sense with modest caution 
speaks, 

It still looks home, and short excursions 
makes; 

But rattling nonsense in full volleys breaks^ 

And never shock'd, and never turn'd 
aside, 70 

Bursts out, resistless, with a thund'ring 
tide. 
But where 's the man who counsel can 
bestow. 

Still pleas'd to teach, and yet not proud to 
know ? 

Unbiass'd or by favour or by spite; 

Not dully prepossess'd nor blindly right; 

Tho' learn'd, well bred, and tho' well bred 
sincere; 

Modestly bold, and humanly severe; 

Who to a friend his faults can freely show, 

And gladly praise the merit of a foe; 

Bless'd with a taste exact, yet unconfin'd, 

A knowledge both of books and human- 
kind; 81 

Gen'rous converse; a soul exempt from 
pride ; 

And love to praise, with reason on his 
side? 

Such once were critics; such the happy 
few 

Athens and Rome in better ages knew. 

The mighty Stagyrlte first left the shore, 
^^ffe^ifead all his sails, and durst the deeps 
explore ; 

He steer'd securely, and discover'd far. 

Led by the light of the Mseonian star. 

Poets, a race long unconfin'd and free, 90 

Still fond and proud of savage liberty, 

Receiv'd his laws, and stood convinc'd 
't was fit 

Who conquer'd Nature should preside o'er 
Wit. 
Horace still charms with graceful negli- 
gence. 

And without method talks us into sense; 

Will, like a friend, familiarly convey 

The truest notions in the easiest way. 

He who, supreme in judgment as in wit, 

Might boldly censure as he boldly writ, 

Yet judg'd with coolness, though he sung 
with fire; 100 

His precepts teach but what his works in- 
spire. 



Our critics take a contrary extreme, 
They judge with fury, but they write with 

phlegm ; 
Nor suffers Horace more in wrong transla- 
tions 
By Wits, than Critics in as wrong quota- 
tions. 
See Dionysius Homer's thoughts refine. 
And call new beauties forth from ev'ry 

line ! 
Fancy and art in gay Petronius please. 
The Scholar's learning with the courtier's 

ease. 
In grave Quintilian's copious work we 

find 1 10 

The justest rules and clearest method 

join'd. 
Thus useful arms in magazines we place. 
All ranged in order, and disposed with 

grace ; 
But less to please the eye than arm the 

hand. 
Still fit for use, and ready at command. 
Thee, bold Longinus ! all the Nine in- 
spire, 

And bless their critic with a poet's fire: 
An ardent judge, who, zealous in his trust, 
With warmth gives sentence, yet is always 

just; 
Whose own example strengthens all his 

laws, 120 

And is himself that great sublime he draws. 

Thus long succeeding critics justly 

reign'd. 
License repress'd, and useful laws ordain'd : 
Learning and Rome alike in empire grew. 
And arts still foUow'd where her eagles 

flew; 
From the same foes at last both felt their 

doom. 
And the same age saw learning fall and 

Rome. 
With tyranny then superstition join'd, 
As that the body, this enslaved the mind; 
Much was believ'd, but little understood. 
And to be dull was construed to be good; 
A second deluge learning thus o'errun, 132 
And the monks finish'd what the Goths 

begun. 
At length Erasmus, that great injur'd 

name, 
(The glory of the priesthood and the 

shame !) 



Stemm'd the wild torrent of 
age, 



barb' 



rous 



AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM 



77 



And drove those holy Vandals off tlie 
stage. 
But see ! each Muse in Leo's golden 
days 

Starts from her trance, and trims her with- 
er'd bays. 

Rome's ancient genius, o'er its ruins 
spread, 140 

Shakes off the dust, and rears his rev'rend 
head. 

Then sculpture and her sister arts re- 
vive; 

Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to 
live; 

With sweeter notes each rising temple 
rung; 

A Raphael painted and a Vida sung: 

Immortal Vida ! on whose honour'd brow 

The poet's bays and critic's ivy grow: 

Cremona now shall ever boast thy name. 

As next in place to Mantua, next in fame ! 

But soon by impious arms from Latium 

chased, 150 

Their ancient bounds the banish'd Muses 
pass'd ; 

Thence arts o'er all the northern world ad- 
vance. 

But critic learning flourish'd most in France; 

The rules a nation born to serve obeys, 

And Boileau still in right of Horace sways. 

But we, brave Britons, foreign laws de- 
spised, 

And kept unconquer'd and uncivilized ; 

Fierce for the liberties of wit, and bold. 

We still defied the Romans, as of old. 

Yet some there were, among the sounder 
few 160 

Of those who less presumed and better 
knew, 



Who durst assert the juster ancient cause, 

And here restor'd Wit's fundamental laws. 

Such was the Muse whose rules and prac- 
tice tell 

* Nature's chief masterpiece is writing 
' well.' 

Such was Roscommon, not more learu'd 
than good. 

With manners gen'rous as his noble blood; 

To him the wit of Greece and Rome was 
known. 

And every author's merit but his own. 

Such late was Walsh — the Muse's judge 
and friend, 170 

Who justly knew to blame or to com- 
mend ; 

To failings mild but zealous for desert, 

The clearest head, and the sincerest heart. 

This humble praise, lamented Shade ! re- 
ceive; 

This praise at least a grateful Muse may 
give: 

The Muse whose early voice you taught to 
sing, 

Prescribed her heights, and pruned her 
tender wing, 

(Her guide now lost), no more attempts to 
rise. 

But in low numbers short excursions tries; 

Content if hence th' unlearn'd their wants 
may view, 180 

The learn'd reflect on what before they 
knew; 

Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame; 

Still pleas'd to praise, yet not afraid to 
blame ; 

Averse alike to flatter or offend; 

Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to 
mend. 



78 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1708 AND 1712 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1708 AND 1712 



ODE FOR 



MUSIC ON ST. 
LIA'S DAY 



CECI- 



This ode was written at the suggestion of 
Richard Steele, in 1708. It was recast in 1730 
in briefer form so that it might be set to music ; 
and the first four stanzas were considerably 
changed. 



Descend, ye Nine, descend and sing: 
The breathing instruments inspire, 
Wake into voice each silent string, 
And sweep the sounding lyre. 
In a sadly pleasing strain 
Let the warbling lute complain; 
Let the loud trumpet sound, 
Till the roofs all around 
The shrill echoes rebound; 
While in more lengthen'd notes and slow 
The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow, n 
Hark! the numbers soft and clear 
Gently steal upon the ear; 
Now louder, and yet louder rise. 
And fill with spreading sounds the 
skies : 
Exulting in triumph now swell the bold 

notes. 
In broken air, trembling, the wild music 
floats: 
Till by degrees, remote and small, 
The strains decay, 
And melt away 20 

In a dying, dying fall. 

II 

By Music minds an equal temper know, 
Nor swell too high, nor sink too low. 
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise, 
Music her soft assuasive voice applies; 
Or when the soul is press'd with cares, 
Exalts her in enlivening airs. 
Warriors she fires with animated sounds, 
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds; 
Melancholy lifts her head, 30 

Morpheus rouses from his bed, 
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, 
List'ning Envy drops her snakes; 
Intestine war no more our passions wage. 
And giddy Factions hear away their 
rage. 



Ill 

But when our country's cause provokes to 

arms, 
How martial music ev'ry bosom warms! 
So when the first bold vessel dared the 



seas. 



his 



40 



5° 



High on the stern the Thracian rais'd 
strain. 
While Argo saw her kindred trees 
Descend from Pelion to the main: 
Transported demigods stood round. 
And men grew heroes at the sound, 

Inflamed with Glory's charms: 

Each chief his sev'nfold shield display'd. 

And half unsheath'd the shining blade ; 

And seas, and rocks, and skies rebound 
To arms, to arms, to arms! 



IV 

But when thro' all th' infernal bounds, 
Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds, 
Love, strong as Death, the Poet led 
To the pale nations of the dead, 
What sounds were heard, 
What scenes appear'd. 
O'er all the dreary coasts! 
Dreadful gleams, 
Dismal screams. 
Fires that glow. 
Shrieks of woe, 
Sullen moans. 
Hollow groans, 
And cries of tortured ghosts ! 
But hark ! he strikes the golden lyre, 
And see ! the tortured ghosts respire ! 
See, shady forms advance ! 
Thy stone, O Sisyphus, stands still, 
Ixion rests upon his wheel. 
And the pale spectres dance ; 
The Furies sink upon their iron beds. 
And snakes uncurl'd hang list'ning round 
their heads. 

V 

By the streams that ever flow. 
By the fragrant winds that blow 

O'er th' Elysian flowers; 
By those happy souls who dwell 
In yellow meads of Asphodel, 

Or Amaranthine bowers; 



60 



ARGUS 



79 



By the heroes' armed sliades, 
Glitt'ring thro' the gloomy glades; 
By the youths that died for love, 
Wand'ring in the myrtle grove, 80 

Restore, restore Eurydice to life ! 
Oh, take the husband, or return the wife ! 
He sung, and Hell consented 
To hear the Poet's prayer : 
Stern Proserpine relented. 
And gave him back the Fair. 
Thus song could prevail 
O'er Death and o'er Hell, 
A conquest how hard and how glorious ! 
Tho' fate had fast bound her, 90 

With Styx nine times round her, 
Yet music and love were victorious. 

VI 

But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes: 
Again she falls, again she dies, she dies ! 
How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move ? 
No crime was thine, if 't is no crime to love. 
Now under hanging mountains, 
Beside the falls of fountains. 
Or where Hebrus wanders. 
Rolling in meanders, 100 

All alone. 

Unheard, unknown, 
He makes his moan; 
And calls her ghost. 
For ever, ever, ever lost ! 
Now with Furies surrounded, 
Despairing, confounded, 
He trembles, he glows. 
Amidst Rhodope's snows. 
See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he 
flies ! no 

Hark ! Haemus resounds with the Baccha- 
nals' cries — 

Ah see, he dies ! 
Yet ev'n in death Eurydice he sung, 
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue ; 
Eurydice the woods, 
Eurydice the floods, 
Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains 
rung. 

VII 

Music the fiercest grief can charm, 
And Fate's severest rage disarm: 
Music can soften pain to ease, 120 

And make despair and madness 
please : 

Our joys below it can improve, 
And antedate the bliss above. 



This the divine Cecilia found. 
And to her Maker's praise confin'd the 

sound. 
When the full organ joins the tuneful quire, 

Th' immortal Powers incline their ear ; 
Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire, 
While solemn airs improve the sacred fire. 

And Angels lean from Heav'n to hear. 130 
Of Orpheus now no more let poets tell; 
To bright Cecilia greater power is giv'n: 

His numbers rais'd a shade from Hell, 
Hers lift the soul to Heav'n. 



ARGUS 

Written m 1709 and sent in a letter to Henry 
Cromwell in 1711. 

When wise Ulysses, from his native coast 
Long kept by wars, and long by tempests 

toss'd. 
Arrived at last, poor, old, disguised, alone, 
To all his friends, and ev'n his Queen un- 
known. 
Changed as he was, with age, and toils, 

and cares, 
Furrow'd his rev'rend face, and white his 

hairs. 
In his own palace forc'd to ask his bread, 
Scorn'd by those slaves his former bounty 

fed, 
Forgot of all liis own domestic crew. 
The faithful Dog alone his rightful master 

knew ! 
Unfed, unhous'd, neglected, on the clay. 
Like an old servant now cashier'd, he lay ; 
Touch'd with resentment of ungrateful 

man. 
And longing to behold his ancient lord 

again. 
Him when he saw he rose, and crawl'd to 

meet, 
('T was all he could) and fawn'd and kiss'd 

his feet, 
Seiz'd with dumb joy ; then falling by hiss 

side, 
Own'd his returning lord, look'd up, and 

died ! 



THE BALANCE OF EUROPE 

Now Europe balanc'd, neither side pre- 
vails : 
For nothing: 's left in either of the scales. 



8o 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1708 AND 1712 



THE TRANSLATOR 

* Egbert Sanger,' says Warton, ' served his 
apprenticeship with Jacob Tonson, and suc- 
ceeded Bernard Lintot in his shop at Middle 
Temple Gate, Fleet Street. Lintot printed 
Ozell's translation o£ Perrault's Characters, 
and Sanger his translation of Boileau's Lutrin, 
recommended by Kowe, in 1709.' 

OzELL, at Sanger's call, invoked his 
Muse — 

For who to sing for Sanger could refuse ? 

His numbers such as Sanger's self might use. 

Reviving Perrault, murd'ring Boileau, he 

Slander'd the ancients first, then Wycher- 
ley ; 

Which yet not much that old bard's anger 
rais'd, 

Since those were slander'd most whom 
Ozell prais'd. 

Nor had the gentle satire caused complain- 
ing, 

Had not sage Rowe pronounc'd it enter- 
taining ; 

How great must be the judgment of that 
writer, 

Who The Plain Dealer damns, and prints 
The Biter ! 



ON MRS. TOFTS, A FAMOUS 
OPERA-SINGER 

Katharine Tofts was an English opera 
singer popular in London between 1703 and 
1709. 

So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy 

song, 
As had drawn both the beasts and their 

Orpheus along: 
But such is thy av'riee, and such is thy 

pride. 
That the beasts must have starv'd, and the 

poet have died. 

EPISTLE TO MRS. BLOUNT, 
WITH THE WORKS OF VOI- 
TURE. 

To Teresa Blount. First published in Lin- 
tot's Miscellany, in 1712. See note. 

In these gay thoughts the Loves and Graces 

shine. 
And all the writer lives in ev'ry line; 



His easy Art may happy Nature seem, 
Trifles themselves are elegant in him. 
Sure to charm all was his peculiar fate. 
Who without flatt'ry pleas'd the Fair and 

Great ; 
Still with esteem no less convers'd than 

read, 
With wit well-natured, and with books well- 
bred: 
His heart his mistress and his friend did 

share, 9 

His time the Muse, the witty, and the fair. 
Thus wisely careless, innocently gay. 
Cheerful he play'd the trifle, Life, away; 
Till Fate scarce felt his gentle breath sup- 

prest. 
As smiling infants sport themselves to rest. 
Ev'n rival Wits did Voiture's death deplore. 
And the gay mourn'd who never mourn'd 

before ; 
The truest hearts for Voiture heav'd with 

sighs, 
Voiture was wept by all the brightest 

eyes: 
The Smiles and Loves had died in Voiture's 

death, 19 

But that for ever in his lines they breathe. 

Let the strict life of graver mortals be 
A long, exact, and serious Comedy; 
In ev'ry scene some Moral let it teach, 
And, if it can, at once both please and 

preach. 
Let mine an innocent gay farce appear, 
And more diverting still than regular, 
Have Humour, Wit, a native Ease and 

Grace, 
Tho' not too strictly bound to Time and 

Place: 
Critics in Wit, or Life, are hard to please. 
Few write to those, and none can live to 

these. 30 

Too much your Sex is by their forms 

confin'd. 
Severe to all, but most to Womankind ; 
Custom, grown blind with Age, must be 

your guide; 
Your pleasure is a vice, but not your pride ; 
By Nature yielding, stubborn but for fame. 
Made slaves by honour, and made fools by 

shame ; 
Marriage may all those petty tyrants chase ; 
But sets up one, a greater, in their place; 
Well might you wish for change by those 

accurst, 39 

But the last tyrant ever proves the worst- 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL 



8i 



Still in constraint your suff'ring Sex re- 
mains, 
Or bound in formal, or in real chains: 
Whole years neglected, for some months 

ador'd, 
The fawning Servant turns a haughty Lord. 
Ah, quit not the free innocence of life, 
For the dull glory of a virtuous Wife; 
Nor let false shows, or empty titles please; 
Aim not at Joy, but rest content with 

Ease. 
The Gods, to curse Pamela with her 

pray'rs. 
Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders 

mares, 50 

The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, 
And, to complete her bliss, a fool for 

mate. 
She glares in Balls, front Boxes, and the 

Ring, 
A vain, unquiet, glitt'ring, wretched thing ! 
Pride, Pomp, and State but reach her out- 
ward part ; 
She sighs, and is no Duchess at her heart. 
But, Madam, if the fates withstand, and 

you 
Are destin'd Hymen's willing victim too; 
Trust not too much your now resistless 

charms. 
Those Age or Sickness soon or late dis- 
arms: 60 
Good humour only teaches charms to last. 
Still makes new conquests, and maintains 

the past; 
Love, rais'd on Beauty, will like that decay. 
Our hearts may bear its slender chain a 

day; 
As flow'ry bands in wantonness are worn, 
A morning's pleasure, and at evening torn; 
This binds in ties more easy, yet more 

strong. 
The willing heart, and only holds it long. 
Thus Voiture's early care still shone the 

same, 69 

And Montausier was only changed in name; 
By this, ev'n now they live, ev'n now they 

charm, 
Their wit still sparkling, and their flames 

still warm. 
Now crown'd with myrtle, on th' Elysian 

coast, 
Amid those lovers, joys his gentle Ghost: 
Pleas'd, while with smiles his happy lines 

you view. 
And finds a fairer Rambouillet in you. 



The brightest eyes of France inspired his 

Muse; 
The brightest eyes of Britain now peruse; 
And dead, as living, 't is our Author's pride 
Still to charm those who charm the world 

beside. 80 



THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO 
HIS SOUL 

This Ode was written, we find [in 1712], at 
the desire of Steele ; and our Poet, in a letter 
to him on that occasion, says, — ' You have it, 
as Cowley calls it, just warm from the brain ; 
it came to me the first moment I waked this 
morning ; yet you '11 see, it was not so abso- 
lutely inspiration, but that I had in my head, 
not only the verses of Hadrian, but the fine 
fragment of Sappho.' It is possible, however, 
that our Author might have had another com- 
position in his head, besides those he here re- 
fers to : for there is a close and surprising 
resemblance between this Ode of Pope, and 
one of an obscure and forgotten rhymer of the 
age of Charles the Second, Thomas Flatman. 
(Warton). Pope's version of the Adriani mo- 
rientis ad Animam was written at about this 
date, and sent to Steele for publication in The 
Spectator. It ran as follows : — 

' Ah, fleeting Spirit ! wand'ring fire, 

That long hast warm'd my tender breast, 
Must thou no more this frame inspire, 

No more a pleasing cheerful guest ? 
Whither, ah whither, art thou flying. 

To what dark undiscover'd shore ? 
Thou seem'st all trembling, shiv'ring, dying, 

And Wit and Humour are no more ! ' 



Vital spark of heav'nly flame. 
Quit, oh quit, this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, 
Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life ! 

II 

Hark ! they whisper; Angels say, 
Sister Spirit, come away. 
What is this absorbs me quite, 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight, 
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath ? 
Tell me, my Soul ! can this be Death ? 

Ill 

The world recedes; it disappears ; 
Heav'n opens on my eyes; my ears 



82 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1708 AND 17 12 



With sounds seraphic ring : 

Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! 

O Grave ! where is thy Victory ? 

O Death ! where is thy Sting ? 



EPISTLE TO MR. JERVAS 

WITH DRYDEN'S translation OF FRES- 

noy's art of painting 

Charles Jervas was an early and firm friend 
of Pope's, and, himself an indifferent painter, 
at one time gave Pope some instruction in 
painting. Dry den's translation of Fresnoy ap- 
pears to have been a hasty and perfunctory 
piece of work. The poem was first published in 
1712. 

This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou 

refuse 
This from no venal or ungrateful Muse. 
Whether thy hand strike out some free de- 
sign, 
Where life awakes, and dawns at ev'ry 

line, 
Or blend in beauteous tints the colour'd 

mass. 
And from the canvas call the mimic face: 
Read these instructive leaves, in which con- 
spire 
Fresnoy's close Art and Dryden's native 

Fire; 
And reading wish like theirs our fate and 

fame. 
So mix'd our studies, and so join'd our 

name; 10 

Like them to shine thro' long succeeding 

age, 
So just thy skill, so regular my rage. 

Smit with the love of Sister- Arts we came. 
And met congenial, mingling flame with 

flame ; 
Like friendly colours found them both 

unite. 
And each from each contract new strength 

and light. 
How oft in pleasing tasks we wear the 

day, 
While summer suns roll unperceiv'd away ! 
How oft our slowly growing works impart. 
While images reflect from art to art ! 20 
How oft review; each finding, like a friend. 
Something to blame, and something to 

commend. 



What flatt'ring scenes our wand'ring 

fancy wrought, 
Rome's pompous glories rising to our 

thought! 
Together o'er the Alps methinks we fly, 
Fired with ideas of fair Italy. 
With thee on Raphael's monument I mourn. 
Or wait inspiring dreams at Maro's urn: 
With thee repose where Tully once was laid, 
Or seek some ruin's formidable shade: 30 
While Fancy brings the vanish'd piles to 

view. 
And builds imaginary Rome anew. 
Here thy well-studied marbles fix our eye; 
A fading fresco here demands a sigh ; 
Each heav'nly piece unwearied we compare. 
Match Raphael's grace with thy lov'd 

Guido's air, 
Carracci's strength, Correggio's softer line, 
Paulo's free stroke, and Titian's warmth 

divine. 
How finish' d with illustrious toil appears 
This small well-polish'd Gem, the work of 

years, 40 

Yet still how faint by precept is exprest 
The living image in the painter's breast! 
Thence endless streams of fair ideas flow. 
Strike in the sketch, or in the picture glow; 
Thence Beauty, waking all her forms, sup- 
plies 
An Angel's sweetness, or Bridgewater's 

eyes. 
Muse! at that name thy sacred sorrows 

shed 
Those tears eternal that embalm the dead; 
Call round her tomb each object of desire, 
Each purer frame inform 'd with purer 

fire ; 50 

Bid her be all that cheers or softens life. 
The tender sister, daughter, friend, and 

wife; 
Bid her be all that makes mankind adore. 
Then view this marble, and be vain no 

more ! 
Yet still her charms in breathing paint 

engage. 
Her modest cheek shall warm a future age. 
Beauty, frail flower, that ev'ry season fears. 
Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years. 
Thus Churchill's race shall other hearts 

surprise. 
And other beauties envy Worsley's eyes; 60 
Each pleasing Blount shall endless smiles 

bestow, 
And soft Belinda's blush for ever glow. 



ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY <S3 



O, lasting as those colours may they 

shine, 
Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy 

line; 
New graces yearly like thy works display, 
Soft without weakness, without glaring 

gay! 

Led by some rule that guides, but not con- 
strains. 

And finish'd more thro' happiness than 
pains. 

The kindred arts shall in their praise con- 
spire, 69 

One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre. 

Yet should the Graces all thy figures place, 

And breathe an air divine on ev'ry face; 

Yet should the Muses bid my numbers roll 

Strong as their charms, and gentle as their 
soul; 

With Zeuxis' Helen thy Bridgewater vie, 

And these be sung till Granville's Myra die; 

Alas ! how little from the grave we claim ! 

Thou but preserv'st a Face and I a Name ! 



IMPROMPTU TO LADY WIN- 
CHILSEA 

OCCASIONED BY FOUR SATIRICAL 
VERSES ON WOMEN WITS, IN THE 
RAPE OF THE LOCK 

* The four verses,' says Ward, ' are appar- 
ently Canto IV. vv. 59-62. The Countess of 
Winchilsea, a poetess whom Rowe hailed as in- 
spired by ' more than Delphic ardour,' replied 
by some pretty lines, where she declares that 
*' disarmed with so genteel an air," she gives 
over the contest.' 

In vain you boast poetic names of yore. 
And cite those Sapphos we admire no 

more: 
Fate doom'd the fall of every female wit; 
But doom'd it then, when first Ardelia 

writ. 
Of all examples by the world confess'd, 
I knew Ardelia could not quote the best; 
Who, like her mistress on Britannia's 

throne, 
Fights and subdues in quarrels not her 

own. 
To write their praise you but in vain essay: 
Ev'n while you write, you take that praise 

away. 



Light to the stars the sun does thus re- 
store, 

But shines himself till they are seen no 
more. 



ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF 
AN UNFORTUNATE LADY 

It was long rumored that this poem was 
literally founded on fact : that the unfortu- 
nate lady was a maiden with whom Pope was 
in love, and from whom he was separated. 
The fact seems to be that the poem's only 
basis in truth lay in Pope's sympathy for an 
unhappy married woman about w^hom he wrote 
to Caryll in 1712. The verses were not pub- 
lished till 1717, but were probably written 
several years earlier. 

What beck'ning ghost along the moon- 
light shade 
Invites my steps, and points to yonder 

glade ? 
'Tis she ! — but why that bleeding bosom 

gor'd ? 
Why dimly gleams the visionary sword ? 
Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly ! tell, 
Is itjj.a Heav'n, a crime to love too well ?j 
To bear too tender or too firm a heart. 
To act a lover's or a Roman's part ? 
Is there no bright reversion in the sky 
For those who greatly think, or bravely 

die ? 10 

Why bade ye else, ye Powers ! her soul 

aspire 
Above the vulgar flight of low desire ? 
Ambition first sprung from your blest 

abodes. 
The glorious fault of Angels and of Gods: 
TKeiTce'to their images on earth it flows, 
And in the breasts of Kings and Heroes 

glows. 
Most souls, 't is true, but peep out once an 

age, 
Dull sullen pris'ners in the body's cage; 
Dim lights of life, that burn a length of 

years 
Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres; 20 
Like eastern Kings a lazy state they keep, 
And, close confin'd to their own palace, 

sleep. 
From these, perhaps (ere Nature bade 

her die), 
Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying 

sky. 



84 



PO'EMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1708 AND 1712 



As into air the purer spirits flow, 

And sep'rate from their kindred dregs be- 
low; 

So flew the soul to its congenial place, 

Nor left one virtue to redeem her race. 
But thou, false guardian of a charge too 
good, 

Thou, mean deserter of thy brother's 
blood ! 30 

See on these ruby lips the trembling 
breath. 

These cheeks now fading at the blast of 
death ; 

Cold is that breast which warm'd the world 
before, 

And those love-darting eyes must roll no 
more. 

Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball. 

Thus shall your wives, and thus your chil- 
dren fall; 

On all the line a sudden vengeance waits, 

And frequent hearses shall besiege your 
gates ; 

There passengers shall stand, and pointing 
say 

(While the long funerals blacken all the 
way), 40 

Lo ! these were they whose souls the fu- 
ries steel'd, 

And cursed with hearts unknowing how to 
yield. 

Thus unlamented pass the proud away, 

The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day ! 

So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to 
glow 

For others' good, or melt at others' woe. 
What can atone, O ever injured shade ! 

Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid ? 

No friend's complaint, no kind domestic 
tear 

Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or graced thy 
mournful bier; 50 

By foreign hands thy dying eyes were 
closed, 

By foreign hands thy decent limbs com- 
posed. 

By foreign hands thy humble grave 
adorn 'd. 

By strangers honour'd, and by strangers 
mourn'd. 

What tho' no friends in sable weeds appear, 

Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a 
year. 

And bear about the mockery of woe 

To midnight dances, and the public show ? 



What tho' no weeping loves thy ashes 

grace, 
Nor polish 'd marble emulate thy face ? 60 
What tho' no sacred earth allow thee 

room, 
Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy 

tomb? 
Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be 

dress'd, 
And the green turf lie lightly on thy 

breast: 
There shall the morn her earliest tears be- 
stow, 
There the first roses of the year shall 

blow; 
While angels with their silver wings o'er- 

shade 
The ground, now sacred by thy relics 

made. 
So peaceful rests, without a stone, a 

name. 
What once had Beauty, Titles, Wealth and 

Fame. 70 

How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee 

not. 
To whom related, or by whom begot; 
A heap of dust alone remains of thee; 
'T is all thou art, and all the proud shall 

be ! 
Poets themselves must fall like those 

they sung. 
Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful 

tongue. 
Ev'n he whose soul now melts in mourn- 
ful lays. 
Shall shortly want the gen'rous tear he 

pays; 
Then from his closing eyes thy form shall 

part, 
And the last pang shall tear thee from his 

heart; 80 

Life's idle bus'ness at one gasp be o'er, 
The Muse forgot, and thou belov'd no 

more ! 



MESSIAH 
Written, according to Courthope, in 1712. 

ADVERTISEIMENT 

In reading several passages of the prophet 
Isaiah, which foretell the coming-.of Christ, and 
the felicities attending it, I could not but ob- 
serve a remarkable parity between many of 



MESSIAH 



8S 



the thoughts and those in the Pollio of Virgil. 
This "will not seem surprising, when we reflect 
that the Eclogue was taken from a Sibylline 
prophecy on the same subject. One may judge 
that Virgil did not copy it line by line, but 
selected such ideas as best agreed with the 
nature of Pastoral Poetry, and disposed them 
in that manner which served most to beautify 
his piece. I have endeavoured the same in 
this imitation of him, though without admit- 
ting any thing of my own ; since it was writ- 
ten with this particular view, that the reader, 
by comparing the several thoughts, might see 
how far the images and descriptions of the 
Prophet are superior to those of the Poet. 
But as I fear I have prejudiced them by my 
management, I shall subjoin the passages of 
Isaiah, and those of Virgil, under the same 
disadvantage of a literal translation. 

Ye Nymphs of Solyma ! begin the song: 

To heav'nly themes sublimer strains be- 
long. 
, The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades, 

The dreams of Pindus, and th' Aonian 
maids, 

Delight no more — O Thou my voice in- 
spire 

Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd lips with 
fire! 
Rapt into future times, the bard begun: 

A virgin shall conceive, a virgin bear a 
son! 1 



IMITATIONS 



1 Virg. Eel. iv. ver. 6. 

' Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna ; 
Jam nova progenies coelo demittitur alto. 
Te duce, si qua manent sceleris vestigia nostri, 
Irrita perpetua solvent formidine terras. . . . 
Pacatumque reget patriis virtutibus orbera.' 

' Now the virgin returns, now the kingdom 
of Saturn returns, now a new progeny is sent 
down from high heaven. By means of thee, 
whatever relics of our crimes remain, shall be 
wiped away, and free the world from perpet- 
ual fears. He shall govern the earth in peace, 
with the virtues of his father.' 

Isaiah, ch. vii. ver. 14. ' Behold, a virgin 
shall conceive and bear a son.' Chap. ix. ver. 
6, 7. ' Unto us a child is born, unto us a son 
is given . . . the Prince of Peace : of the in- 
crease of his government, and of his peace, 
there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, 
and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to es- 
tablish it, with judgment and with justice from 
henceforth even for ever.' 



From Jesse's * root behold a branch arise, 
Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills 

the skies; lo 

Th' ethereal spirit o'er its leaves shall 

move, 
And on its top descends the mystic dove. 
Ye Heav'ns!^ from high the dewy nectar 

pour. 
And in soft silence shed the kindly shower! 
The sick ^ and weak the healing plant shall 

aid. 
From storms a shelter, and from heat a 

shade. 
All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud 

shall fail, 
Returning Justice ^ lift aloft her scale; 
Peace o'er the world her olive wand ex- 
tend. 
And white-robed Innocence from Heav'n 

descend. 20 

Swift fly the years, and rise th' expected 

morn ! 
O spring to light, auspicious babe! be 

born. 
See Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to 

bring,^ 
With all the incense of the breathing 

spring: 
See lofty Lebanon ' his head advance, 
See nodding forests on the mountains 

dance : 



2 Isaiah, eh. xi. ver. 1. 

3 Ch. xlv. ver. 8. 
^ Ch. XXV. ver. 4. 
^ Ch. ix. ver. 7. 

^ Virg. Eel. iv. ver. 18. 

' At tibi prima, puer, nuUo munuscula cultu, 
Errantes hederas passim cum baccare tellus, 
Mixtaque ridenti colocasia f undet acantho — 
Ipsa tibi blandos fundent cunabula flores.' 

' For thee, child, shall the earth, without 
being tilled, produce her early offerings ; wind- 
ing ivy, mixed with baccar, and colocasia with 
smiling acanthus. Thy cradle shall pour forth 
pleasing flowers about thee.' 

Isaiah, ch. xxxv. ver. 1. ' The wilderness 
and the solitary place shall be glad . . . and 
the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the 
rose.' Ch. Ix. ver. 18. ' The glory of Lebanon 
shall come unto thee, the fir-tree, the pine-tree, 
and the box together to beautify the place of 
my sanctuary.' 

' Isaiah, ch. xxxv. ver. 2. 



S6 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1708 AND 1712 



See spicy clouds from lowly Saron rise, 

And Carmel's flow'ry top perfumes the 
skies! 

Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert 
cheers; ^ 

Prepare the way ! ^ a God, a God appears ! 

A God, a God ! the vocal hills reply; 31 

The Rocks proclaim th' approaching- Deity. 

Lo, Earth receives him from the bending 
skies! 

Sink down, ye Mountains, and, ye valleys, 
rise; 

With heads declin'd, ye Cedars, homage 
pay; 

Be smooth, ye Rocks; ye rapid floods, give 
way; 

The Saviour comes, by ancient bards fore- 
told! 

Hear him,^ ye deaf, and all ye blind, be- 
hold! 

He from thick films shall purge the visual 

ray, 
And on the sightless eyeball pour the 

day: 40 

'T is he th' obstructed paths of sound shall 

clear, 
And bid new music charm th' unfolding 

ear: 
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch 

forego, 
And leap exulting like the bounding roe. 
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall 

hear. 
From every face he wipes oflf every tear. 

IMITATIONS 

1 Virg-. Eel. iv. ver. 48, Eel. v. ver. 62. 

* Aggredere o magnos, aderit jam tempus, ho- 

nores, 
Cara deum soboles, magnum Jovis incremen- 

tum ! 

Ipsi Isetitia voces ad sidera jaetant 
Intonsi montes. ipsas jam earmina rupes. 
Ipsa sonant arbusta, Deus, deus ille, Menalca ! ' 

' come and receive the mighty honours : 
the time draws nigh. beloved offspring of the 
Gods, great increase of Jove ! . . . The un- 
cultivated mountains send shouts of joy to the 
stars, the very rocks sing in verse, the very 
shrubs cry out, A God, a God.' 

Isaiah, chap. xl. ver. 3, 4. ' The voice of 
him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye 
the way of the Lord, make straight in the de- 
sert a high way for our God. Every valley 



In ^ adamantine chains shall Death be 

bound. 
And Hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal 

wound. 
As the good Shepherd ^ tends his fleecy care, 
Seeks freshest pasture and the purest air, 
Explores the lost, the wand'ring sheep 
directs, 51 

By day o'ersees them, and by night pro- 
tects ; 
The tender lambs he raises in his arms. 
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom 

warms ; 
Thus shall mankind his guardian care en- 
gage, 
The promis'd Father ^ of the future age. 
No more shalP nation against nation rise. 
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful 

eyes, ^ 
Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd 

o'er. 
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more; 
But useless lances into scythes shall bend, 61 
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare 

end. 
Then palaces shall rise ; the joyful ^ son 
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun; 
Their vines a shadow to their race shall 

yield, 
And the same hand that sow'd shall reap 

the field: 
The swain in barren ^ deserts with surprise 
See lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise; ^"^ 
And start, amidst the thirsty wilds, to hear 
New falls of water murrn'rinc" in his ear. 7<^ 



shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill 
shall be made low, and the crooked shall be 
made straight, and the rough places plain.' 
Chap. xliv. ver. 23. ' Break forth into sing- 
ing, ye mountains ! forest, and every tree 
therein 1 for the Lord hath redeemed Jacob.' 

^ Ch. xl. ver. 3, 4. 

3 Isaiah, ch. xlii. ver. 18 ; ch. xxxv. ver. 5, 6. 

* Ch. XXV. ver. 8. 

5 Ch. xl. ver. 11. 

^ Ch. ix. ver. 6. 

"* Isaiah, ch. ii. ver. 4. 

8 Ch. Ixv. ver. 21, 22. 

^ Ch. xxxv. ver. 1, 7. 

10 Virg. Eel. iv. ver. 28. 

' Molli paulatim flavescet campus arista. 
Incultisque rubens pendebit sentibus uva, 
Et duras quercus sudabunt roscida mella.' 

' The fields shall grow yellow with ripened 
ears, and the red grape shall hang upon the 



MESSIAH 



87 



On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes, 
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush 

nods; 
Waste ^ sandy valleys, once perplex'd with 

thorn, 
The spiry fir and shapely box adorn ; 
To leafless shrubs the flow'ring palms suc- 
ceed. 
And od'rous myrtle to the noisome weed. 
The lambs ^ with wolves shall graze the 

verdant mead. 
And boys in flow'ry bands the tiger lead;^ 
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet. 
And harmless serpents ^ lick the pilgrim's 
feet; 80 

The smiling infant in his hand shall take 
The crested basilisk and speckled snake, 
Pleas'd, the green lustre of the scales 

survey, 
And with their forky tongue shall inno- 
cently play. 
Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, ^ 

rise! ® 
Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thy eyes! 
See a long race "^ thy spacious courts adorn; 
See future sons and daughters, yet unborn, 
In crowding ranks on every side arise, 
Demanding life, impatient for the skies! 90 

wild brambles, and the hard oaks shall distil 
honey like dew.' 

Isaiah, chap. xxxv. ver. 7. * The parched 
ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty 
land springs of water : in the habitation of 
dragons, where each lay, shall be grass with 
reeds and rushes.' — Chap. Iv. ver. 13. 'In- 
stead of the thorn shall come up the fir-tree, 
and instead of the brier shall come up the myr- 
tle tree.' 

^ Isaiah, ch. xli. ver. 19, and ch. Iv. ver. 13. 

2 Ch. xi. ver. 6, 7, 8. 

3 Virg. Eel. iv. ver. 21. 

' Ipsse lacte domum referent distenta capellse 
Ubera, nee magnos metuent armenta leones. . . . 
Occidet et serpens, et fallax herba veneni 
Occidet.' — 

' The goats shall bear to the fold their ud- 
ders distended with milk : nor shall the herds be 
afraid of the greatest lions. The serpent shall 
die, and the herb that conceals poison shall 
die.' 

Isaiah, chap. xi. ver. 6, &c. ' The wolf also 
shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard 
shall lie down with the kid, and the calf, and 



See barb'rous nations ^ at thy gates attend. 

Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend ! 

See thy bright altars throng'd with pros- 
trate kings. 

And heap'd with products of Sabaean ^ 
springs; 

For thee Idume's spicy forests blow, 

And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains 
glow; 

See Heav'n its sparkling portals wide dis- 
play, 

And break upon thee in a flood of day! 

No more the rising sun ^° shall gild the 
morn. 

Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her silver horn; 

But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays, loi 

One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze 

O'erflow thy courts: the light himself shall 
shine 

Reveal' d, and God's eternal day be thine! 

The seas ^^ shall waste, the skies in smoke 
decay, 

Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt 
away; 

But fix'd his word, his saving power re- 
mains; — 

Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah 
reigns! 

the young- Hon, and the fatling together ; and a 
little child shall lead them. — And the lion 
shall eat straw like the ox. And the sucking 
child shall play on the hole of the asp, and the 
weaned child shall put his hand on the cocka- 
trice' den.' 

* Ch. Ixv. ver. 25. 

^ Isaiah, ch. Ix. ver. 1. 

*" The thoughts of Isaiah, which compose the 
latter part of the poem, are wonderfully ele- 
vated, and much above those general exclan)a- 
tions of Virgil, which make the loftiest parts 
of his Pollio. 

' Magnus ab integro saeclorum nascitur ordo 

— toto surget gens aurea raundo ! 

— incipient raagni procedere menses ! 
Aspice, venturo Isetantur \\t omniasaeclo !' &c. 

The reader needs only to turn to the passages 
of Isaiah here cited. 

" Ch. Ix. ver. 4. 

8 Ch. Ix. ver. .3. 

^ Ch. Ix. ver. 6. 
10 Isaiah ch. Ix. ver. 19, 20. 
^^ Ch. li. ver. 6, and ch. liv. ver. 10. 



ss 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



^. 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 
AN HEROI-COMICAL POEM 



Nolueram, Belinda, tuos violate capillos ; 
Sed juvat, hoc precibus me tribuisse tuis. 

Mart. Epig. xii. 84. 



' It appears by this motto,' says Pope, in a 
footnote supplied for Warburton's edition, 
' that tlie following- poem was written or pub- 
lished at the lady's request. But there are some 
other circumstances not unworthy relating. 
Mr. Caryll (a gentleman who was secretary to 
Queen Mary, wife of James II., whose for- 
tunes he followed into France, author of the 
comedy of Sir Solomon Single., and of several 
translations in Dryden's Miscellanies) originally 
proposed it to him in a view of putting- an end, 
by this piece of ridicule, to a quarrel that was 
risen between two noble families, those of Lord 
Petre and Mrs. Fermor, on the trifling occasion 
of his having cut off a lock of her hair. The 
author sent it to the lady, with Avhom he was 
acquainted ; and she took it so well as to give 
about copies of it. That first sketch (we learn 
from one of his letters) was written in less than 
a fortnight, in 1711, in two cantos only, and it 
was so printed first, in a Miscellany of Bern. 
Lintot's, without the name of the author. But 
it was received so well that he made it more 
considerable the next year by the addition of 
the machinery of the Sylphs, and extended it 
to five cantos.' 

TO sins. ARABELLA FERMOB 

Madam, — It will be in vain to deny that 
I have some regard for this piece, since I dedi- 
cate it to you. Yet you may bear me witness 
it was intended only to divert a few young la- 
dies, who have good sense and good humour 
enough to laugh not only at their sex's little 
unguarded follies, but at their own. But as it 
was communicated with the air of a secret, it 
soon found its way into the world. An imper- 
fect copy having been ofEer'd to a bookseller, 
you had the good-nature for my sake, to con- 
sent to the publication of one more correct : 
this I was forced to, before I had executed half 
my design, for the IMachinery was entirely 
wanting to complete it. 

The Machinery, Madam, is a term invented 
by the critics, to signify that part which the 
Deities, Angels, or Daemons, are made to act in 



a poem : for the ancient poets are in one re- 
spect like many modern ladies ; let an action 
be never so trivial in itself, they always make 
it appear of the utmost importance. These 
Machines I determined to raise on a very new 
and odd foundation, the Rosicrucian doctrine 
of Spirits. 

I know how disagreeable it is to make use 
of hard words before a lady ; but it is so much 
the concern of a poet to have his works under- 
stood, and particularly by your sex, that you 
must give me leave to explain two or three 
difficult terms. The Rosicrucians are a people 
I must bring you acquainted with. The best 
account I know of them is in a French book 
called La Comte de Gabalis, which, both in its 
title and size, is so like a novel, that many of 
the fair sex have read it for one by mistake. 
According to these gentlemen, the four ele- 
ments are inhabited by Spirits, which they call 
Sylphs, Gnomes, Nymphs, and Salamanders. 
The Gnomes, or Daemons of earth, delight in 
mischief ; but the Sylphs, whose habitation is 
in the air, are the best-conditioned creatures 
imaginable ; for. they say, any mortal may en- 
joy the most intimate familiarities with these 
gentle spirits, upon a condition very easy to 
all trxie adepts, — an inviolate preservation of 
chastity. 

As to the following cantos, all the passages 
of them are as fabulous as the Vision at the 
beginning, or the Transformation at the end 
(except the loss of your hair, which I always 
mention with reverence). The human persons 
are as fictitious as the airy ones ; and the char- 
acter of Belinda, as it is now managed, re- 
sembles you in nothing but in beauty. 

If this poem had as many graces as there 
are in your person or in your mind, yet I coxild 
never hope it should pass thro' the world 
half so uncensured as you have done. But let 
its fortune be what it will, mine is happy 
enough, to have given me this occasion of as- 
suring you that I am, with the truest esteem, 
Madam, 

Your most obedient, humble servant, 

A. Pope. 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



89 



CANTO I 

What dire offence from am'rous causes 

springs, 
What mighty contests rise from trivial 

things, 
I sing — This vfirse,,tQ -,Caryii!, muse! is 

due: 
This, ev'n Belinda may vouchsafe to view : 
Slight is the subject, but not so the praise. 
If she inspire, and he approve my lays. 
\ Say what strange motive, Goddess ! could 

compel 
A well-bred Lord t' assault a gentle Belle ? 
O say what stranger cause, yet unex- 

plor'd. 
Could make a gentle Belle reject a Lord ? 10 
In tasks so bold can little men engage, 
And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty 

rage ? 
Sol thro' white curtains shot a tim'rous 

ray, 
And oped those eyes that must eclipse the 

day. 
Now lapdogs give themselves the rousing 

shake, 
And sleepless lovers just at twelve awake : 
Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd 

the ground, 
And the press'd watch return'd a silver 

sound. 
Belinda still her downy pillow prest. 
Her guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy 

rest. 20 

'T was he had summon'd to her silent bed 
The morning-dream that hover'd o'er her 

head; 
A youth more glitt'ring than a Birthnight 

Beau 
(That ev'n in slumber caus'd her cheek to 

glow) 
Seera'd to her ear his winning lips to lay, 
And thus in whispers said, or seem'd to 

say: 
* Fairest of mortals, thou distinguish'd 

care 
Of thousand bright Inhabitants of Air ! 
If e'er one vision touch'd thy infant thought. 
Of all the nurse and all the priest have 

taught — 30 

Of airy elves by moonlight shadows seen. 
The silver token, and the circled green, 
Or virgins visited by Angel-powers, 
With golden crowns and wreaths of heav'nly 

flowers; 



Hear and believe ! thy own importance 
know. 

Nor bound thy narrow views to things be- 
low. 

Some secret truths, from learned pride con- 
ceal'd. 

To maids alone and children are reveal'd: 

What tho' no credit doubting Wits may 
give ? 

The fair and innocent shall still believe. 40 

Know, then, unnumber'd Spirits round thee 

fly, 

The light militia of the lower sky: 
These, tho' unseen, are ever on the wing, 
Hang o'er the Box, and hover round the 

Ring. 
Think what an equipage thou hast in air. 
And view with scorn two pages and a chair. 
As now your own, our beings were of old, 
And once inclosed in woman's beauteous 

mould; 
Thence, by a soft transition, we repair 
From earthly vehicles to these of air, 50 
Think not, when woman's transient breath 

is fled. 
That all her vanities at once are dead ; 
Succeeding vanities she still regards, 
And, tho' she plays no more, o'erlooks the 

cards. 
Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive, 
And love of Ombre, after death survive. 
For when the Fair in all their pride expire, 
To their first elements their souls retire. 
The sprites of fiery termagants in flame 59 
Mount up, and take a Salamander's name. 
Soft yielding minds to water glide away. 
And sip, with Nymphs, their elemental tea. 
The graver prude sinks downward to a 

Gnome 
In search of mischief still on earth to roam. 
The light coquettes in Sylphs aloft repair, 
And sport and flutter in the fields of air. 
' Know further yet: whoever fair and 
chaste 
Rejects mankind, is by some Sylph em- 
braced; 
For spirits, freed from mortal laws, with 

ease 
Assume what sexes and what shapes they 
please. 70 

What guards the purity of melting maids. 
In courtly balls, and midnight masquerades, 
Safe from the treach'rous friend, the dar- 
ing spark. 
The glance by day, the whisper in the dark; 



90 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



When kind occasion prompts their warm 

desires, 
When music softens, and when dancing 

fires ? 
'Tis but their Sylph, the wise Celestials 

know, 
Tho' Honour is the word with men below. 
' Some nymphs there are, too conscious 

of their face, 
For life predestin'd to the Gnome's em- 
brace. 80 
These swell their prospects and exalt their 

pride, 
When ofEers are disdain'd, and love denied: 
Then gay ideas crowd the vacant brain. 
While peers, and dukes, and all their 

sweeping train. 
And garters, stars, and coronets appear, 
And in soft sounds, "■ Your Grace " salutes 

their ear. 
'T is these that early taint the female soul, 
Instruct the eyes of young coquettes to roll, 
Teach infant cheeks a bidden blush to know. 
And little hearts to flutter at a Beau. 90 
*<Oft, when the world imagine women 

stray. 
The Sylphs thro' mystic mazes guide their 

way; 
Thro' all the giddy circle they pursue. 
And old impertinence expel by new. 
What tender maid but must a victim fall 
To one man's treat, but for another's ball ? 
When Florio speaks, what virgin could 

withstand, 
If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand ? 
With varying vanities, from every part, 
They shift the moving toyshop of their 

heart; 100 

Where wigs with wigs, with sword-knots 

sword-knots strive. 
Beaux banish beaux, and coaches coaches 

drive. 
This erring mortals levity may call; 
Oh blind to truth! the Sylphs contrive it 

all. 
* Of these am I, who thy protection claim, 
A watchful sprite, and Ariel is my name. 
Late, as I ranged the crystal wilds of air, 
In the clear mirror of thy ruling star 
I saw, alas ! some dread event impend. 
Ere to the main this morning sun descend. 
But Heav'n reveals not what, or how or 

where. m 

Warn'd by the Sylph, O pious maid, be- 
ware ! 



This to disclose is all thy guardian can: 
Beware of all, but most beware of Man!' 
He said; when Shock, who thought she 

slept too long, 
Leap'd up, and waked his mistress with his 

tongue. 
'T was then, Belinda, if report say true. 
Thy eyes first open'd on a billet-doux; 
Wounds, charms, and ardours were no 

sooner read, ng 

But all the vision vanish'd from thy head. 
And now, unveil'd, the toilet stands dis- 
play 'd, 
Each silver vase in mystic order laid. 
First, robed in white, the nymph intent 

adores, 
With head uncover'd, the cosmetic powers. 
A heav'nly image in the glass appears; 
To that she bends, to that her eyes she 

rears. 
Th' inferior priestess, at her altar's side, 
Trembling begins the sacred rites of Pride. 
Unnumber'd treasures ope at once, and here 
The various off 'rings of the world appear; 
From each she nicely culls with curious 

toil, 131 

And decks the Goddess with the glitt'ring 

spoil. 
This casket India's glowing gems unlocks, 
And all Arabia breathes from yonder box. 
The tortoise here and elephant unite, 
Transform'd to combs, the speckled, and 

the white. 
Here files of pins extend their shining rows, 
Puifs, powders, patches, bibles, billet-doux. 
Now awful beauty puts on all its arms; 139 
The Fair each moment rises in her charms, 
Repairs her smiles, awakens every grace. 
And calls forth all the wonders of her face; 
Sees by degrees a purer blush arise. 
And keener lightnings quicken in her eyes. 
The busy Sylphs surround their darling 

care. 
These set the head, and those divide the 

hair. 
Some fold the sleeve, whilst others plait the 

gown ; 
And Betty 's prais'd for labours not her 

own. 

CANTO II 

Not with more glories, in th' ethereal plain, 
The sun first rises o'er the purpled main, 
Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



91 



Launch'd on the bosom of the silver Thames. 
Fair nymphs, and well-dress'd youths 

around her shone, 
But every eye was fix'd on her alone. 
On her white breast a sparkling cross she 

wore, 
Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore. 
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose, 
Quick as her eyes, and as unfix'd as those: 
Favours to none, to all she smiles extends; n 
Oft she rejects, but never once offends. 
Bright as the sun, her eyes the gazers 

strike. 
And, like the sun, they shine on all alike. 
Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of 

pride. 
Might hide her faults, if belles had faults 

to hide; 
If to her share some female errors fall. 
Look on her face, aud you '11 forget 'em 

all. 
This nymph, to the destruction of man- 
kind, 
Nourish'd two locks, which graceful hung 

behind 20 

In equal curls, and well conspired to deck 
With shining ringlets the smooth iv'ry 

neck. 
Love in these labyrinths his slaves detains, 
And mighty hearts are held in slender 

chains. 
With hairy springes we the birds betray. 
Slight lines of hair surprise the finny prey. 
Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare. 
And beauty draws us with a single hair. 
Th' adventurous Baron the bright locks 

admired ; 
He saw, he wish'd, and to the prize aspired. 
Resolv'd to win, he meditates the way, 31 
By force to ravish, or by fraud betray; 
For when success a lover's toil attends. 
Few ask if fraud or force attain'd his 

ends. 
For this, ere Phcebus rose, he had im- 

plor'd 
Propitious Heav'n, and every Power ador'd. 
But chiefly Love — to Love an altar built 
Of twelve vast French romances, neatly 

gilt. 
There lay three garters, half a pair of 

gloves, 
And all the trophies of his former loves; 40 
With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre. 
And breathes three am'rous sighs to raise 

the fire. 



Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent 

eyes 
Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize : 
The Powers gave ear, and granted half his 

prayer. 
The rest the winds dispers'd in empty air. 
But now secure the painted vessel 

glides. 
The sunbeams trembling on the floating 

tides; 
While melting music steals upon the sky. 
And soften'd sounds along the waters die: 
Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently 

play, 51 

Belinda smil'd, and all the world was 

gay. 

All but the Sylph — with careful thoughts 

opprest 
Th' impending woe sat heavy on his breast. 
He summons straight his denizens of air; 
The lucid squadrons round the sails re- 
pair: 
Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers 

breathe j 

That seem'd but zephyrs to the train be- 1 

neath. 
Some to the sun their insect-wings unfold. 
Waft on the breeze, or sink in clouds of 

gold; 60 

Transparent forms too fine for mortal 

sight, \ 

Their fluid bodies half dissolv'd in light. 
Loose to the wind their airy garments 

flew, 
Thin glitt'ring textures of the filmy dew, ^ 
Dipt in the richest tincture of the skies. 
Where light disports in ever-mingling 

dyes. 
While ev'ry beam new transient colours 

flings. 
Colours that change whene'er they wave 

their wings. 
Amid the circle, on the gilded mast, 
Superior by the head was Ariel placed; 70 
His purple pinions opening to the sun. 
He raised his azure wand, and thus begun: 
' Ye Sylphs and Sylphids, to your chief 

give ear. 
Fays, Fairies, Genii, Elves, and Daemons, 

hear ! 
Ye know the spheres and various tasks 

assign'd 
By laws eternal to th' aerial kind. 
Some in the fields of purest ether play. 
And bask and whiten iu the blaze of day; 



92 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



Some guide the course of wand'ring orbs 

ou high, 
Or roll the planets thro' the boundless 

sky: 80 

Some, less refin'd, beneath the moon's pale 

light 
Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the 

night, 
Or suck the mists in grosser air below, 
Or dip their pinions in the painted bow, 
Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry 

main. 
Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain. 
Others, on earth, o'er human race preside. 
Watch all their ways, and all their actions 

guide: 
Of these the chief the care of nations own. 
And guard with arms divine the British 

Throne. 90 

* Our humbler province is to tend the 

Fair, 
Not a less pleasing, tho' less glorious care; 
To save the Powder from too rude a gale; 
Nor let th' imprison'd Essences exhale; 
To draw fresh colours from the vernal 

flowers; 
To steal from rainbows ere they drop in 

showers 
A brighter Wash ; to curl their waving 

hairs. 
Assist their blushes and inspire their airs; 
Nay oft, in dreams invention we bestow, 
To change a Flounce, or add a Furbelow. 
' This day black omens threat the bright- 
est Fair, loi 
That e'er deserv'd a watchful spirit's care; 
Some dire disaster, or by force or slight; 
But what, or where, the Fates have wrapt 

in night. 
Whether the nymph shall break Diana's 

law. 
Or some frail China jar receive a flaw; 
Or stain her honour, or her new brocade, 
Forget her prayers, or miss a masquerade. 
Or lose her heart, or necklace, at a ball; 
Or whether Heav'n has doom'd that Shock 

must fall. no 

Haste, then, ye Spirits ! to your charge re- 
pair: 
The flutt'ring fan be Zephyretta's care; 
The drops to thee, Brillante, we consign; 
And, Momentilla, let the watch be thine; 
Do thou, Crispissa, tend her fav'rite 

Lock ; 
Ariel himself shall be the guard of Shock. 



* To fifty chosen sylphs, of special note,^ 

We trust th' important charge, the petti- 
coat; 

Oft have we known that sev'n-fold fence to 
fail, 

Tho' stiff with hoops, and arm'd with ribs^ 
of whale: 

Form a strong line about the silver bound, 

And guard the wide circumference around. 
' Whatever spirit, careless of his charge. 

His post neglects, or leaves the Fair at 
large. 

Shall feel sharp vengeance soon o'ertake 
his sins: 

Be stopp'd in vials, or transfix'd with 
pins. 

Or plunged in lakes of bitter washes lie, 

Or wedg'd whole ages in a bodkin's eye; 

Gums and pomatums shall his flight re- 
strain, 

While clogg'd he beats his silken wings in 
vain, 130 

Or alum styptics with contracting power 

Shrink his thin essence like a rivell'd 
flower: 

Or, as Ixion fix'd, the wretch shall feel 

The giddy motion of the whirling mill. 

In fumes of burning chocolate shall glow, 

And tremble at the sea that froths be- 
low ! ' 
He spoke ; the spirits from the sails de- 
scend ; 

Some, orb in orb, around the nymph ex- 
tend; 

Some thread the mazy ringlets of her hair; 

Some hang upon the pendants of her ear; 

With beating hearts the dire event they 
wait, 141 

Anxious, and trembling for the birth of 
Fate. 



CANTO III 

Close by those meads, for ever crown'd 
with flowers, 

Where Thames with pride surveys his ris- 
ing towers 

There stands a structure of majestic frame. 

Which from the neighb'ring Hampton 
takes its name. 

Here Britain's statesmen oft the fall fore- 
doom 

Of foreign tyrants, and of nymphs at 
home; 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



93 



Here, thou, great Anna ! whom three 

realms obey, 
Dost sometimes counsel take — and some- 
times tea. 
Hither the Heroes and the Nymphs re- 
sort, 
To taste awhile the pleasures of a court; lo 
In various talk th' instructive hours they 

past. 
Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last; 
One speaks the glory of the British Queen, 
And one describes a charming Indian 

screen ; 
A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; 
At every word a reputation dies. 
Snuff, or the fan, supply each pause of 

chat. 
With singing, laughing, ogling, and all that. 
Meanwhile, declining from the noon of 

day. 
The sun obliquely shoots his burning ray; 
The hungry judges soon the sentence 

sign, 21 

And wretches hang that jurymen may dine; 
The merchant from tli' Exchange returns 

in peace, 
And the long labours of the toilet cease. 
Belinda now, whom thirst of fame invites. 
Burns to encounter two adventurous 

knights. 
At Ombre singly to decide their doom. 
And swells her breast with conquests yet 

to come. 
Straight the three bands prepare in arms 

to join, 
Each band the number of the sacred Nine. 
Soon as she spreads her hand, th' aerial 

guard 31 

Descend, and sit on each important card: 
First Ariel perch'd upon a Matadore, 
Then each according to the rank they bore; 
For Sylphs, yet mindful of their ancient 

race. 
Are, as when women, wondrous fond of 

place. 
Behold four Kings in majesty revered. 
With hoary whiskers and a forky beard; 
And four fair Queens, whose hands sustain 

a flower 
Th' expressive emblem of their softer 

power; 40 

Four Knaves, in garbs succinct, a trusty 

band. 
Caps on their heads, and halberts in their 

hand 



And party-colour'd troops, a shining train, 
Draw forth to combat on the velvet plain. 
The skilful nymph reviews her force with 

care ; 
* Let Spades be trumps ! ' she said, and 

trumps they were. 
Now move to war her sable Matadores, 
In show like leaders of the swarthy Moors. 
Spadillio first, unconquerable lord ! 
Led off two captive trumps, and swept the 

board. 50 

As many more Manillio forced to yield, 
And march'd a victor from the verdant 

field. 
Him Basto foUow'd, but his fate more hard 
Gain'd but one trump and one plebeian card. 
With his broad sabre next, a chief in years, 
The hoary Majesty of Spades appears. 
Puts forth one manly leg, to sight reveal'd; 
The rest his many colour'd robe conceal'd. 
The rebel Knave, who dares his prince en- 
gage. 
Proves the just victim of his royal rage. 60 
Ev'n mighty Pam, that kings and queens 

o'erthrew. 
And mow'd down armies in the fights of 

Loo, 
Sad chance of war ! now destitute of aid, 
Falls undistinguish'd by the victor Spade. 
Thus far both armies to Belinda yield; 
Now to the Baron Fate inclines the field. 
His warlike amazon her host invades, 
Th' imperial consort of the crown of Spades. 
The Club's black tyrant first her victim 

died. 
Spite of his haughty mien and barb'rous 

pride: 70 

What boots the regal circle on his head. 
His giant limbs, in state unwieldy spread; 
That long behind he trails his pompous 

robe. 
And of all monarchs only grasps the globe ? 
The Baron now his Diamonds pours 

apace ; 
Th' embroider'd King who shows but half 

his face. 
And his refulgent Queen, with powers com- 

bin'd. 
Of broken troops an easy conquest find. 
Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, in wild disorder 

seen. 
With throngs promiscuous strew the level 

green. 80 

Thus when dispers'd a routed army runs, 
Of Asia's troops, and Afric's sable sons, 



94 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



With like confusion difP'rent nations fly, 

Of various habit, and of various dye; 

The pierced battalions disunited fall 

In heaps on heaps ; one fate o'erwhelrns 
them all. 
The Knave of Diamonds tries his wily 
arts, 

And wins (oh shameful chance !) the Queen 
of Hearts. 

At this, the blood the virgin's cheek for- 
sook, 

A livid paleness spreads o'er all her look; 

She sees, and trembles at th' approaching 
ill, 91 

Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille. 

And now (as oft in some distemper'd state) 

On one nice trick depends the gen'ral 
fate! 

An Ace of Hearts steps forth: the King 
unseen 

Lurk'd in her hand, and mourn'd his cap- 
tive Queen. 

He springs to vengeance with an eager pace. 

And falls like thunder on the prostrate 
Ace. 

The nymph, exulting, fills with shouts the 
sky; 

The walls, the woods, and long canals re- 
ply. 100 
Oh thoughtless mortals ! ever blind to 
fate. 

Too soon dejected, and too soon elate: 

Sudden these honours shall be snatch'd 
away. 

And curs'd for ever this victorious day. 
For lo ! the board with cups and spoons 
is crown'd. 

The berries crackle, and the mill turns 
round ; 

On shining altars of japan they raise 

The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze: 

From silver spouts the grateful liquors 
glide. 

While China's earth receives the smoking 
tide. 110 

At once they gratify their scent and taste. 

And frequent cups prolong the rich repast. 

Straight hover round the Fair her airy 
band ; 

Some, as she sipp'd, the fuming liquor 
fann'd, 

Some o'er her lap their caTef ul plumes dis- 
play'd, 

Trembling, and conscious of the rich bro- 
cade. 



Coffee (which makes the politician wise. 
And see thro' all things with his half-shut 

eyes) 
Sent up in vapors to the Baron's brain 
New stratagems, the radiant Lock to gain. 
Ah, cease, rash youth ! desist ere 't Is too 
late, 121 

Fear the just Gods, and think of Scylla's 

fate ! 
Changed to a bird, and sent to flit in air, 
She dearly pays for Nisus' injured hair ! 
But when to mischief mortals bend their 
will. 
How soon they find fit instruments of ill! 
Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting 

grace 
A two-edg'd weapon from her shining case: 
So ladies in romance assist their knight. 
Present the spear, and arm him for the 
fight. 130 

He takes the gift with rev'rence, and ex- 
tends 
The little engine on his fingers' ends; 
This just behind Belinda's neck he spread. 
As o'er the fragrant steams she bends her 

head. 
Swift to the Lock a thousand sprites re- 

Pair; , 

A thousand wings, by turns, blow back the Lf^ 

hair; / 

And thrice they twitch'd the diamond in hei^ 

ear; 
Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the foe 
drew near. 138 

Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought 
The close recesses of the virgin's thought: 
As on the nosegay in her breast reclin'd. 
He watch'd th' ideas rising in her mind. 
Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her art. 
An earthly Lover lurking at her heart. 
Amazed, confused, he found his power ex- 
pired, 
Resign'd to fate, and with a sigh retired. 
The Peer now spreads the glitt'ring for- 
fex wide, 
T' inclose the Lock; now joins it, to di- 
vide. 
Ev'n then, before the fatal engine closed, 
A wretched Sylph too fondly interposed; 
Fate urged the shears, and cut the Sylph 
in twain 151 

(But airy substance soon unites again). 
The meeting points the sacred hair dissever 
From the fair bead, for ever, and for 
ever ! 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



95 



Then flash'd the living lightning from 

her eyes, 
And screams of horror rend th' affrighted 

skies. 
Not louder shrieks to pitying Heav'n are 

cast, 
When husbands, or when lapdogs breathe 

their last; 
Or when rich China vessels, fall'n from 

_ high. 
In glitt'ring dust and painted fragments 

lie! i6o 

' Let wreaths of triumph now my temples 

twine,' 
The Victor cried, 'the glorious prize is 

mine! 
While fish in streams, or birds delight in 

air, 
Or in a coach and six the British Fair, 
As long as Atalantis shall be read. 
Or the small pillow grace a lady's bed, 
While visits shall be paid on solemn days. 
When numerous wax-lights in bright order 

blaze : 
While nymphs take treats, or assignations 

give. 
So long my honour, name, and praise shall 

live! 170 

What Time would spare, from Steel re- 
ceives its date, 
And monuments, like men, submit to Fate! 
Steel could the labour of the Gods destroy, 
And strike to dust th' imperial towers of 

Troy; 
Steel could the works of mortal pride con- 
found 
And hew triumphal arches to the ground. 
What wonder, then, fair Nymph! thy hairs 

should feel 
The conquering force of unresisted steel? ' 



CANTO IV 

But anxious cares the pensive nymph op- 

prest. 
And secret passions labour'd in her breast. 
Not youthful kings in battle seiz'd alive, 
Not scornful virgins who their charms sur- 
vive, 
Not ardent lovers robb'd of all their bliss, 
Not ancient ladies when refused a kiss. 
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die. 
Not Cynthia when her mantua 's pinn'd 
awry, 



E'er felt such rage, resentment, and de- 
spair. 
As thou, sad Virgin! for thy ravish'd hair. 
For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs 
withdrew, n 

And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew, 
Umbriel, a dusky, melancholy sprite 
As ever sullied the fair face of light, 
Down to the central earth, his proper scene, 
Kepair'd to search the gloomy cave of 
Spleen. 
Swift on his sooty pinions flits the 
Gnome, 
And in a vapour reach'd the dismal dome. 
No cheerful breeze this sullen region knows. 
The dreaded East is all the wind that 
blows. 20 

Here in a grotto shelter'd close from air. 
And screen'd in shades from day's de- 
tested glare. 
She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, 
Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head. 
Two handmaids wait the throne; alike in 

place. 
But diij 'ring far in figure and in face. 
Here stood Ill-nature, like an ancient 

maid. 
Her wrinkled form in black and white ar- 

ray'd! 
With store of prayers for mornings, nights, 

and noons, 
Her hand is fiU'd; her bosom with lam- 
poons. 30 
There Affectation, with a sickly mien. 
Shows in her cheek the roses of eighteen, 
Practis'd to lisp, and hang the head aside. 
Faints into airs, and languishes with pride; 
On the rich quilt sinks with becoming woe. 
Wrapt in a gown for sickness and for 

show. 
The fair ones feel such maladies as these, 
When each new night-dress gives a new 
disease. 
A constant vapour o'er the palace flies 
Strange phantoms rising as the mists arise; 
Dreadful as hermits' dreams in haunted 
shades, 41 

Or bright as visions of expiring maids: 
Now glaring fiends, and snakes on rolling 

spires. 
Pale spectres, gaping tombs, and purple 

fires; 
Now lakes of liquid gold, Elysian scenes, 
And crystal domes, and angels in ma- 
chines. 



96 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



Unnumber'd throngs on ev'ry side are 



seen. 



Of bodies changed to various forms by 

Spleen. 
Here living Teapots stand, one arm held 

out, 
One bent; the handle this, and that the 

spout: 50 

A Pipkin there, like Homer's Tripod walks ; 
Here sighs a Jar, and there a Goose-pie 

talks; 
Men prove with child, as powerful fancy 

works. 
And maids turn'd bottles call aloud for 

corks. 
Safe pass'd the Gnome thro' this fantastic 

band, 
A branch of healing spleenwort in his 

hand. 
Then thus address'd the Power — ' Hail, 

wayward Queen! 
Who rule the sex to fifty from fifteen: 
Parent of Vapours and of female wit. 
Who give th' hysteric or poetic fit, 60 

On various tempers act by various ways, 
Make some take physic, others scribble 

plays; 
Who cause the proud their visits to delay. 
And send the godly in a pet to pray. 
A nymph there is that all your power dis- 
dains, 
And thousands more in equal mirth main- 
tains. 
But oh! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a 

grace. 
Or raise a pimple on a beauteous face, 
Like citron-waters matrons' cheeks inflame. 
Or change complexions at a losing game; 70 
If e'er with airy horns I planted heads, 
Or rumpled petticoats, or tumbled beds. 
Or caused suspicion when no soul was rude. 
Or discomposed the head-dress of a prude. 
Or e'er to costive lapdog gave disease, 
Which not the tears of brightest eyes could 

ease, 
Hear me, and touch Belinda with chagrin; 
That single act gives half the world the 

spleen.' 
The Goddess, with a discontented air, 
Seems to reject him tho' she grants his 

prayer. 80 

A wondrous Bag with both her hands she 

binds. 
Like that where once Ulysses held the 

winds; 



There she collects the force of female lungs. 
Sighs, sobs, and passions, and the war of 

tongues. 
A Vial next she fills with fainting fears. 
Soft sorrows, melting griefs, and flowing 

tears. 
The Gnome rejoicing bears her gifts away, 
Spreads his black wings, and slowly mounts 

to day. 
Sunk in Thalestris' arms the nymph he 

found, 
Her eyes dejected, and her hair unbound. 90 
Full o'er their heads the swelling Bag he 

rent. 
And all the Furies issued at the vent. 
Belinda burns with more than mortal ire, 
And fierce Thalestris fans the rising fire. 
'O wretched maid! ' she spread her hands, 

and cried 
(While Hampton's echoes, 'Wretched 

maid! ' replied). 
Was it for this you took such constant care 
The bodkin, comb, and essence to prepare ? 
For this your locks in paper durance 

bound ? 
For this with torturing irons wreathed 

around ? 100 

For this with fillets strain'd your tender 

head. 
And bravely bore the double loads of lead ? 
Gods! shall the ravisher display your hair, 
While the fops envy, and the ladies stare f 
Honour forbid! at whose unrivall'd shrine 
Ease, Pleasure, Virtue, all, our sex resign. 
Methinks already I your tears survey. 
Already hear the horrid things they say. 
Already see you a degraded toast, 
And all your honour in a whisper lost! no 
How shall I, then, your hapless fame de- 
fend ? 
'T will then be infamy to seem j'our friend! 
And shall this prize, th' inestimable prize. 
Exposed thro' crystal to the gazing eyes. 
And heighten'd by the diamond's circling 

rays, 
On that rapacious hand for ever blaze ? 
Sooner shall grass in Hyde Park Circus grow. 
And Wits take lodgings in the sound of 

Bow; 
Sooner let earth, air, sea, to chaos fall, 
Men, monkeys, lapdogs, parrots, perish 

all!' 
She said; then raging to Sir Plume re- 
pairs. 
And bids her beau demand the precious hairs 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



97 



(Sir Plume, of amber snuff-box justly vain, 
And the nice conduct of a clouded cane) : 
With earnest eyes, and round unthinking 

face, 
He first the snuff-box open'd, then the case, 
And thus broke out — * My lord, why, what 

the devil! 
Z — ds! damn the Lock! 'fore Gad, you 

must be civil! 
Plague on 't! 't is past a jest — nay, prithee, 

pox! 
Give her the hair.' — He spoke, and rapp'd 

his box. 130 

* It grieves me much,' replied the Peer 

again, 
• Who speaks so well should ever speak in 

vain : 
But by this Lock, this sacred Lock, I swear 
(Which never more shall join its parted 

hair; 
Which never more its honours shall renew, 
Clipp'd from the lovely head where late it 

grew). 
That, while my nostrils draw the vital air, 
This hand, which won it, shall for ever 

wear.' 
He spoke, and speaking, in proud triumph 

spread 
The long-contended honours of her head. 140 
But Umbriel, hateful Gnome, forbears 

not so; 
He breaks the Vial whence the sorrows 

flow. 
Then see! the nymph in beauteous grief ap- 
pears, 
Her eyes half-languishing, half drown'd in 

tears; 
On her heav'd bosom hung her drooping 

head. 
Which with a sigh she rais'd, and thus she 

said: 
' For ever curs'd be this detested day. 
Which suatch'd my best, my fav'rite curl 

away! 
Happy! ah, ten times happy had I been, 
If Hampton Court these eyes had never 

seen! 150 

Yet am not I the first mistaken maid. 
By love of courts to numerous ills betray'd. 
O had I rather unadmired remain'd 
In some lone isle, or distant northern land; 
Where the gilt chariot never marks the 

way. 
Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste 

Bohea! 



There kept my charms conceal'd from 
mortal eye. 

Like roses, that in deserts bloom and die. 

What mov'd my mind with youthful lords 
to roam ? 

O had I stay'd, and said my prayers at 
home; 160 

'T was this the morning omens seem'd to 
tell. 

Thrice from my trembling hand the patch- 
box fell; 

The tott'ring china shook without a wind; 

Nay, Poll sat mute, and Shock was most 
unkind! 

A Sylph, too, warn'd me of the threats of 
fate. 

In mystic visions, now belie v'd too late! 

See the poor remnants of these slighted 
hairs! 

My hands shall rend what ev'n thy rapine 
spares. 

These, in two sable ringlets taught to 
break, 

Once gave new beauties to the snowy neck; 

The sister-lock now sits uncouth alone, 171 

And in its fellow's fate foresees its own; 

Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal shears de- 
mands. 

And tempts once more thy sacrilegious 
hands. 

O hadst thou, cruel ! been content to seize 

Hairs less in sight, or any hairs but these ! ' 



CANTO V 

She said: the pitying audience melt in 

tears; 
But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's 

ears. 
In vain Thalestris with reproach assails. 
For who can move when fair Belinda fails ? 
Not half so fix'd the Trojan could remain. 
While Anna begg'd and Dido raged in 

vain. 
Then grave Clarissa graceful waved her 

fan; 
Silence ensued, and thus the nymph began: 
* Say, why are beauties prais'd and hon- 

our'd most. 
The wise man's passion, and the vain 

man's toast ? 10 

Why deck'd with all that land and sea af- 
ford, 
Why angels call'd, and angel-like ador'd ? 



98 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



Why round our coaches crowd the white- 

glov'd beaux ? 
Why bows the side-box fuom its inmost 

rows ? 
How vain are all these glories, all our 

pains, 
Unless Good Sense preserve what Beauty 

gains ; 
That men may say when we the front-box 

grace, 
" Behold the first in virtue as in face ! " 
Oh ! if to dance all night, and dress all 

day, 
Charm'd the smallpox, or chased old age 

away ; 20 

Who would not scorn what housewife's 

cares produce, 
Or who would learn one earthly thing of 

use ? 
To patch, nay, ogle, might become a saint, 
Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint. 
But since, alas ! frail beauty must decay, 
Curl'd or uncurl'd, since locks will turn to 

gray; 
Since painted, or not painted, all shall 

fade, 
And she who scorns a man must die a 

maid; 
What then remains, but well our power to 

use. 
And keep good humour still whate'er we 

lose ? 30 

And trust me, dear, good humour can pre- 
vail, 
When airs, and flights, and screams, and 

scolding fail. 
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; 
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins 

the soul.' 
So spoke the dame, but no applause en- 
sued; 
Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her 

prude. 
' To arms, to arms ! ' the fierce virago cries. 
And swift as lightning to the combat flies, 
x^ All side in parties, and begin th' attack; 
. / Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whale- 
bones crack; 40 
Heroes' and heroines' shouts confusedly 

rise. 
And bass and treble voices strike the skies. 
No common weapons in their hands are 

found. 
Like Gods they fight nor dread a mortal 

wound. 



So when bold Homer makes the Gods 

engage. 
And heav'nly breasts with human passions 

rage; 
'Gainst Pallas, Mars ; Latona, Hermes 

arms; 
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms; 
Jove's thunder roars, Heav'n trembles all 

around. 
Blue Neptune storms, the bell'wing deeps 

resound: 50 

Earth shakes her nodding towers, the 

ground gives way. 
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of 

day ! 
Triumphant Umbriel, on a sconce's 

height, 
Clapp'd his glad wings, and sat to view the 

fight: 
Propp'd on their bodkin-spears, the sprites 

survey 
The growing combat, or assist the fray. 
While thro' the press enraged Thalestris 

flies, 
And scatters death around from both her 

eyes, 
A Beau and Witling perish 'd in the throng, 
One died in metaphor, and one in song: 60" 

* O cruel Nymph ! a living death I bear,' 
Cried Dapperwit, and sunk beside his 

chair. 
A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards 
cast, 

* Those eyes are made so killing ' — was his 

last. 

Thus on Mfeander's flowery margin lies 

Th' expiring swan, and as he sings he 
dies. 
When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clar- 
issa down, 

Chloe stepp'd in, and kill'd him with a 
frown ; 

She smiled to see the doughty hero slain, 

But, at her smile, the beau revived again. 

Now Jove suspends his golden scales in 
air, 71 

Weighs the men's wits against the lady's 
hair; 

The doubtful beam long nods from side to 
side; 

At length the wits mount up, the hairs sub- 
side. 
See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies. 

With more than usual lightning in her 
eyes; 



THE RAPE OF THE LOCK 



99 



Nor f ear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try, 
Who sought no more than on his foe to die. 
But this bold lord, with manly strength en- 
dued, 
She with one finger and a thumb subdued : 
Just where the breath of life his nostrils 

drew, 8 1 

A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw; 
The Gnomes direct, to every atom just. 
The pungent grains of titillating dust. 
Sudden, with starting tears each eye o'er- 

flows, 
And the high dome reechoes to his nose. 
' Now meet thy fate,' incens'd Belinda 

cried. 
And drew a deadly bodkin from her side. 
(The same, his ancient personage to deck. 
Her great-great-grandsire wore about his 

neck, 90 

In three seal-rings; which after, melted 

down, 
Form'd a vast buckle for his widow's gown: 
Her infant grandame's whistle next it grew. 
The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew; 
Then in a bodkin graced her mother's hairs, 
Which long she wore and now Belinda 

wears.) 
* Boast not my fall,' he cried, ' insulting 

foe ! 
/ Thou by some other shalt be laid as low; 
j Nor think to die dejects my lofty mind: 
1 All that I dread is leaving you behind ! 100 
\ Rather than so, ah, let me still survive, 
> And burn in Cupid's flames — but burn 
\ alive.' 

'Restore the Lock!' she cries; and all 

around 
* Restore the Lock ! ' the vaulted roofs re- 
bound. 
Not fierce Othello in so loud a strain 
Roar'd for the handkerchief that caus'd his 

pain. 
But see how oft ambitious aims are cross'd, 
And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost ! 
The lock, obtain'd with guilt, and kept 

with pain, 
In ev'ry place is sought, but sought in 

vain: no 

With such a prize no mortal must be blest. 
So Heav'n decrees ! with Heav'n who can 

contest ? 
Some thought it mounted to the lunar 

sphere. 
Since all things lost on earth are treasured 

there. 



TTiere heroes' wits are kept in pond'rous 

vases, 
And beaux' in snuffboxes and tweezer- 

cases. 
There broken vows, and deathbed alms are 

found. 
And lovers' hearts with ends of riband 

bound. 
The courtier's promises, and sick man's 

prayers. 
The smiles of harlots, and the tears of 

heirs, 120 

Cages for gnats, and chains to yoke a flea. 
Dried butterflies, and tomes of casuistry. 
But trust the Muse — she saw it upward 

rise, 
Tho' mark'd by none but quick poetic eyes 
(So Rome's great founder to the heav'ns 

withdrew. 
To Proculus alone confess'd in view): 
A sudden star, it shot thro' liquid air. 
And drew behind a radiant trail of hair. 
Not Berenice's locks first rose so bright, 
The heav'ns bespangling with dishevell'd 

light. 130 

The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies. 
And pleas'd pursue its progress thro' the 

skies. 
This the beau monde shall from the Mall 

survey, 
And hail with music its propitious ray; 
This the blest lover shall for Venus take. 
And send up vows from Rosamonda's lake; 
This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless 

skies, 
When next he looks thro' Galileo's eyes; 
And hence th' egregious wizard shall fore- 
doom 
The fate of Louis, and the fall of Rome. 140 
Then cease, bright Nymph ! to mourn thy 

ravish'd hair, 
Which adds new glory to the shining 

sphere ! 
Not all the tresses that fair head can boast 
Shall draw such envy as the Lock you lost. 
For after all the murders of your eye, 
When, after millions slain, yourself shall 

die; 
When those fair suns shall set, as set they 

must. 
And all those tresses shall be laid in dust, 
This Lock the Muse shall consecrate to 

fame. 
And 'midst the stars inscribe Belinda's 

name. 150 



lOO 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 17 13 AND 17 17 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1713 AND 1717 



PROLOGUE TO MR. ADDISON'S 
CATO 

This prolog-ue was written in 1713, after 
Addison had given Pope two of the main causes 
which led to their estrangement ; and itself led 
the way for the third. Addison's faint praise 
of the Pastorals, and disagreement with Pope 
as to the advisability of revising- The Rape of 
the Lock, had not as yet led to their estrang^e- 
ment. But when not long after the presen- 
tation of Cato, Pope ventured to become its 
champion against the attacks of John Dennis, 
Addison's quiet disclaimer of responsibility for 
his anonymous defender cut Pope to the quick. 

To wake the soul by tender strokes of 

art, 
To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; 
To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, 
Live o'er each scene, and be what they be- 
hold: 
For this the Tragic Muse first trod the 

stage, 
Commanding tears to stream thro' ev'ry 

age: 
Tyrants no more their savage nature kept. 
And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept. 
Our author shuns by vulgar springs to 

move 
The Hero's glory, or the Virgin's love; lo 
In pitying Love, we but our weakness show, 
And wild Ambition well deserves its woe. 
Here tears shall flow from a more gen'rous 

cause, 
Such tears as patriots shed for dying 

laws. 
He bids your breasts with ancient ardour 

rise. 
And calls forth Roman drops from British 

eyes: 
Virtue confess'd in human shape he draws, 
What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was: 
No common object to your sight displays, 
But what with pleasure Heav'n itself sur- 
veys, 20 
A brave man struggling in the storms of 

fate, 
And greatly falling with a falling state. 
While Cato gives his little senate laws. 
What bosom beats not in his country's 
cause ? 



Who sees him act, but envies ev'ry deed ? 
Who hears him groan, and does not wish 

to bleed ? 
Ev'n when proud Caesar, midst triumphal 

cars. 
The spoils of nations, and the pomp of 

wars. 
Ignobly vain, and impotently great, 
Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in 

state; 30 

As her dead father's rev'rend image past, 
The pomp was darken'd, and the day o'er- 

cast; 
The triumph ceas'd, tears gush'd from 

ev'ry eye. 
The world's great Victor pass'd unheeded 

by; 
Her last good man dejected Rome ador'd. 
And honour'd Csesar's less than Cato's 

sword. 
Britons, attend: be worth like this ap- 

prov'd, 
And show you have the virtue to be 

mov'd. 
With honest scorn the first famed Cato 

view'd 
Rome learning arts from Greece, whom she 

subdued; 40 

Your scene precariously subsists too long 
On French translation and Italian song. 
Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the 

stage ; 
Be justly warm'd with your own native 

rage: 
Such plays alone should win a British ear 
As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear. 



EPILOGUE TO MR. ROWE'S 
JANE SHORE 

DESIGNED FOR MRS. OLDFIELD 

Nicholas Howe's play was acted at Drury 
Lane in February, 1714. Mrs. Oldfield played 
the leading part, but Pope's Epilogue was not 
used. 

Prodigious this! the Frail-one of our play 
From her own sex should mercy find to- 
day! 



UPON THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH'S HOUSE 



lOI 



You might have held the pretty head aside, 
Peep'd ill your fans, beeii serious, thus, and 

cried, — 
' The play may pass — but that strange 

creature. Shore, 
I can't — indeed now — I so hate a whore! ' 
Just as a blockhead rubs his thoughtless 

skull, 
And thanks his stars he was not born a 

fool; 
So from a sister sinner you shall hear, 
* How strangely you expose yourself, my 

dear! lo 

But let me die, all raillery apart, 
Our sex are still forgiving at their heart; 
And, did not wicked custom so contrive. 
We 'd be the best good-natured things 

alive.' 
There are, 'tis true, who tell another 

tale, 
That virtuous ladies envy while they rail; 
Such rage without betrays the fire within; 
In some close corner of the soul they sin; 
Still hoarding up, most scandalously nice. 
Amidst their virtues a reserve of vice. 20 
The godly dame, who fleshly failings 

damns. 
Scolds with her maid, or with her chaplain 

crams. 
Would you enjoy soft nights and solid 

dinners ? 
Faith, gallants, board with saints, and bed 

with sinners. 
Well, if our author in the Wife offends. 
He has a Husband that will make amends: 
He draws him gentle, tender, and forgiv- 
ing; 
And sure such kind good creatures may be 

living. 
In days of old, they pardon'd breach of 

vows; 29 

Stern Cato's self was no relentless spouse. 
Plu — Plutarch, what 's his name that 

writes his life. 
Tells us, that Cato dearly lov'd his wife: 
Yet if a friend, a night or so, should need 

her, 
He 'd recommend her as a special breeder. 
To lend a wife, few here would scruple 

make; 
But, pray, which of you all would take her 

back? 
Tho* with the Stoic Chief our stage may 

ring. 
The Stoic Husband was the glorious thing. 



The man had courage, was a sage, 't is 

true, 
And lov'd his country — but what 's that 

to you ? 40 

Those strange examples ne'er were made 

to fit ye, 
But the kind cuckold might instruct the 

city: 
There, many an honest man may copy Cato 
Who ne'er saw naked sword, or look'd iu 

Plato. 
If, after all, you think it a disgrace, 
That Edward's Miss thus perks it in your 

face. 
To see a piece of failing flesh and blood, 
In all the rest so impudently good: 
Faith, let the modest matrons of the town 
Come here in crowds, and stare the strum- 
pet down. so 



TO A LADY, WITH THE TEM- 
PLE OF FAME 

What 's Fame with men, by custom of the 

nation. 
Is call'd, in women, only Reputation: 
About them both why keep we such a 

pother ? 
Part you with one, and I '11 renounce the 

other. 



UPON THE DUKE OF MARLBOR- 
OUGH'S HOUSE AT WOOD- 
STOCK 



Atria longa patent; sed nee coenantibus usquam, 
Nee eomno, locus est : quam bene non habitas. 

Martial. 



These verses were first published in 1714. 
There is no actual proof that they are Pope's, 
but as his editors have always retained them, 
they are here given. 

See, Sir, here 's the grand approach, 
This way is for his Grace ^s coach; 
There lies the bridge, and here 's the clock; 
Observe the lion and the cock. 
The spacious court, the colonnade, 
And mark how wide the hall is made! 
The chimneys are so well design'd, 
They never smoke in any wind. 
This gallery 's contrived for walking, 
The windows to retire and talk in; 



I02 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 17 13 AND 17 17 



The council-chamber for debate, 
And all the rest are rooms of state. 

Thanks, Sir, cried I, 't is very fine, 
But where d'ye sleep, or where 

dine? 
I find by all you have been telling 
That 't is a house, but not a dwelling. 



d'ye 



LINES TO LORD BATHURST 

In illustration Mitf ord refers to Pope's letter 
to Lord Bathurst of September 13, 1732, where 
' Mr. L.' is spoken of as ' more inclined to ad- 
mire God in his greater works, the tall timber.' 
(Ward.) Proof is lacking that these lines be- 
long to Pope. They were printed by E. Curll 
in 1714. 

' A Wood! ' quoth Lewis, and with that 
He laugh'd, and shook his sides of fat. 
His tongue, with eye that mark'd his cun- 
ning. 
Thus fell a-reas'ning, not a-running : 
* Woods are — not to be too prolix — 
Collective bodies of straight sticks. 
It is, my lord, a mere conundrum 
To call things woods for what grows under 

'em. 
For shrubs, when nothing else at top is. 
Can only constitute a coppice. 
But if you will not take my word, 
See anno quint, of Richard Third; 
And that 's a coppice call'd, when dock'd, 
Witness an. prim, of Harry Oct. 
If this a wood you will maintain, 
Merely because it is no plain, 
Holland, for all that I can see. 
May e'en as well be term'd the sea, 
Or C[ouings]by be fair harangued 
An honest man, because not hang'd.' 



MACER 

A CHARACTER 

This was first printed in 1727 in the Miscel- 
lanies of Pope and Swift, but was probably 
written in 1715. Macer is supposed to be Am- 
brose Philips. The ' borrow 'd Play' of the 
eighth line would then have been The Distrest 
Mother^ adapted by Philips from Racine. 

When simple Macer, now of high renown. 
First sought a poet's fortune in the town, 



'T was all th' ambition his high soul could 
feel 

To wear red stockings, and to dine with 
Steele. 

Some ends of verse his betters might af- 
ford, 

And gave the harmless fellow a good word: 

Set up with these he ventured on the town, 

And with a borrow'd play outdid poor 
Crowne. 

There he stopp'd short, nor since has writ 
a tittle. 

But has the wit to make the most of little; 

Like stunted hide-bound trees, that just 
have got n 

Sufficient sap at once to bear and rot. 

Now he begs verse, and what he gets com- 
mends. 

Not of the Wits his foes, but Fools his 
friends. 
So some coarse country wench, almost 
decay 'd, 

Trudges to town and first turns chamber- 
maid; 

Awkward and supple each devoir to pay, 

She flatters her good lady twice a day; 

Thought wondrous honest, tho' of mean 
degree. 

And strangely liked for her simplicity: 20 

In a translated sviit then tries the town. 

With borrow'd pins and patches not her 
own: 

But just endured the winter she began. 

And in four months a batter'd harridan: 

Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and 
shrunk. 

To bawd for others, and go shares with 
punk. 



EPISTLE TO MRS. TERESA 
BLOUNT 

ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN AFTER THE 
CORONATION 

This was written shortly after the coronation 
of George I. ' Zephalinda ' was a fanciful 
name employed by Teresa Blount in correspon- 
dence. 

As some fond virgin, whom her mother's 

care 
Drags from the town to wholesome country 

air, 



A FAREWELL TO LONDON 



103 



Just when she learns to roll a melting 

eye, 
And hear a spark, yet think no danger 

nigh — 
From the dear man unwilling she must 

sever, 
Yet takes one kiss before she parts for 

ever — 
Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew, 
Saw others happy, and with sighs with- 
drew; 
Not that their pleasures caus'd her dis- 
content ; 
She sigh'd not that they stay'd, but that 

she went. 10 

She went to plain-work, and to purling 

brooks, 
Old-fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croak- 
ing rooks: 
She went from Op'ra, Park, Assembly, 

Play, 
To morning walks, and prayers three hours 

a day; 
To part her time 'twixt reading and Bohea, 
To muse, and spill her solitary tea; 
Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon. 
Count the slow clock, and dine exact at 

noon; 
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire, 
Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire; 
Up to her godly garret after sev'n, 21 

There starve and pray, for that 's the way 

to Heav'n. 
Some Squire, perhaps, you take delight 

to rack, 
Whose game is Whist, whose treat a toast 

in sack; 
Who visits with a gun, presents you birds. 
Then gives a smacking buss, and cries — 

' No words! ' 
Or with his hounds comes hollowing from 

the stable. 
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a 

table; 
Whose laughs are hearty, tho' his jests are 

coarse, 
And loves you best of all things — but his 

horse. 30 

In some fair ev'ning, on your elbow laid. 
You dream of triumphs in the rural shade; 
In pensive thought recall the fancied scene. 
See coronations rise on ev'ry green: 
Before you pass th' imaginary sights 
Of Lords and Earls and Dukes and garter'd 

Knights, 



While the spread fan o'ershades your clos- 
ing eyes; 
Then gives one flirt, and all the vision flies. 
Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls, 
And leave you in lone woods, or empty 

walls! 40 

So when your Slave, at some dear idle 

time 
(Not plagued with headaches or the want 

of rhyme) 
Stands in the streets, abstracted from the 

crew. 
And while he seems to study, thinks of 

you; 
Just when his fancy paints your sprightly 

eyes. 
Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise. 
Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish 

quite. 
Streets, Chairs, and Coxcombs rush upon 

my sight; 
Vext to be still in town, I knit my brow, 
Look sour, and hum a tune, as you may 

now. so 



LINES OCCASIONED BY SOME 
VERSES OF HIS GRACE THE 
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM 

Muse, 'tis enough, at length thy labour 
ends, 

And thou shalt live, for Buckingham com- 
mends. 

Let crowds of critics now my verse assail. 

Let Dennis write, and nameless numbers 
rail: 

This more than pays whole years of thank- 
less pain; 

Time, health, and fortune, are not lost in 
vain. 

Sheffield approves, consenting Phcebus 
bends, 

And I and malice from this hour are 
friends. 



A FAREWELL TO LONDON 

IN THE YEAR I715 

Dear, damn'd, distracting town, farewell! 

Thy fools no more I '11 tease: 
This year in peace, ye Critics, dwell. 

Ye Harlots, sleep at easel 



104 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 17 13 AND 1717 



Soft B s and rough C[ragg]s, adieu! 

Earl Warwick, make your moan; 
The lively H[inehenhroo]k and you 

May knock up whores alone. 

To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd 
Till the third watchman's toll; 

Let Jervas gratis paint, and Froude 
Save threepence and his soul. 

Farewell Arbuthnot's raillery 

On every learned sot; 
And Garth, the best good Christian he, 

Although he knows it not. 

Lintot, farewell! thy bard must go; 

Farewell, unhappy Tonson! 
Heav'n gives thee for thy loss of Rowe, 

Lean Philips and fat Johnson. 

Why should I stay ? Both parties rage; 

My vixen mistress squalls; 
The Wits in envious feuds engage; 

And Homer (damn him!) calls. 

The love of arts lies cold and dead 

In Halifax's urn; 
And not one Muse of all he fed 

Has yet the grace to mourn. 

My friends, by turns, my friends con- 
found, 

Betray, and are betray 'd: 
Poor Y[ounge]r 's sold for fifty pounds. 

And B[ickne]ll is a jade. 

Why make I friendships with the great. 

When I no favour seek ? 
Or follow girls seven hours in eight ? — 

I need but once a week. 

Still idle, with a busy air, 

Deep whimseys to contrive; 

The gayest valetudinaire. 

Most thinking rake alive. 

Solicitous for others' end?, 

Tho' fond of dear repose; 
Careless or drowsy with my friends, 

And frolic with my foes. 

Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell, 

For sober, studious days! 
And Burlington's delicious meal, 

For salads, tarts, and peaseJ 



Adieu to all but Gay alone, 

Whose soul sincere and free, 

Loves all mankind but flatters none. 
And so may starve with me. 

IMITATION OF MARTIAL 

Referred to in a letter from Trumbull to 
Pope dated January, 1716. The epigram imi- 
tated is the twenty-third of the tenth book. 

At length, my Friend (while Time, with 

still career, 
Wafts on his gentle wing his eightieth 

year). 
Sees his past days safe out of Fortune's 

power. 
Nor dreads approaching Fate's uncertain 

hour; 
Reviews his life, and in the strict survey, ') 
Finds not one moment he could wish aw^ay, >• 
Pleased with the series of each happy day. ) 
Such, such a man extends his life's short 

space. 
And from the goal again renews the race ; 
For he lives twice, who can at once employ 
The present well, and ev'n the past enjoy. 

IMITATION OF TIBULLUS 

See the fourth elegy of Tibullus. lines 55,56. 
In the course of his high-flown correspondence 
with Lady Mary Wortley Montag-u, after her 
departure for the East, Pope often suggests 
the possibility of his travelling' to meet her. 
' But if my fate be such,' he says on the occa- 
sion which broug-ht forth this couplet, ' that 
this body of mine (which is as ill matched to 
my mind as any wife to her husband) be left 
behind in the journey, let the epitaph of Tibul- 
lus be set over it ! ' 

Here, stopt by hasty Death, Alexis lies. 
Who cross'd half Europe, led by Wortley's 
eyes. 

THE BASSET-TABLE 

AN ECLOGUE 

This mock pastoral was one of three which 
made up the original volume of Town Eclogues, 
published anonymously in 1716. Three more 
appeared in a later edition. It is now known 
that only the Basset-Table is Pope's, the rest 
being the work of Lady Mary Wortley Mon- 
tagu. 



THE BASSET-TABLE 



105 



CARDELIA, SMILINDA, LOVET 

Card. The Basset-Table spread, the 

Tallier come, 
Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room ? 
Rise, pensive nymph! the Tallier waits' 

for you. 
Smil. Ah, madam ! since my Sharper 

is untrue, 
I joyless make my once adored Alpeu. 
I saw him stand behind Omhrelia's chair, 
And whisper with that soft deluding air, 
And those feign'd sighs which cheat the 

list'ning Fair. , 
Card. Is this the cause of your roman- 
tic strains ? 
A mightier. grief my heavy heart sustains: 
As you by love, so I by Fortune crost; n 
One, one bad Deal, three Septlevas have 

lost. 
Smil. Is that the grief which you com- 
pare with mine ? 
With ease the smiles of fortune I resign : 
Would all my gold in one bad Deal were 

gone, 
Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone. 
Card. A lover lost is but a common 

care. 
And prudent nymphs against that change 

prepare : 
The Knave of Clubs thrice lost: Oh ! who 

could guess 19 

This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress ? 
Smil. See Betty Lovet ! very apropos; 
She all the cares of love and play does 

know. 
Dear Betty shall th' important point de- 
cide ; 
Betty ! who oft the pain of each has tried; 
Impartial she shall say who suffers most, 
By cards' ill usage, or by lovers lost. 

Lov. Tell, tell your griefs; attentive 

will I stay. 
Though time is precious, and I want some 

tea. 
Card. Behold this equipage, by Mathers 

wrought, 
With fifty guineas (a great pen'worth) 

bought. 30 

See on the toothpick Mars and Cupid 

strive. 
And both the strugoling figures seem alive. 
Upon the bottom shines the Queen's bright 

face ; 
A myrtle foliage round the thimble case. 



Jove, Jove himself does on the scissors 

shine: 
The metal, and the workmanship, divine. 
Smil. This snuff-box — once the pledge 

of Sharper^s love. 
When rival beauties for the present strove ; 
At Corticelli's he the raffle won; 39 

Then first his passion was in public shown: 
Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd her head aside, 
A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide. 
This snuffbox — on the hinge see brilliants 

shine — 
This snuffbox will I stake, the Prize is 

mine. 
Card. Alas! far lesser losses than I 

bear 
Have made a soldier sigh, a lover swear. 
And oh! what makes the disappointment 

hard, 
'Twas my own Lord that drew the fatal 

card. 
In complaisance I took the Queen he gave, 
Tho' my own secret wish was for the 

Knave. 50 

The Knave won Sonica, which I had chose, 
And the next pull my Septleva I lose. 
Smil. But ah! what aggravates the kill- 
ing smart. 
The cruel thought that stabs me to the 

heart. 
This curs'd Ombrelia, this undoing Fair, 
By whose vile arts this heavy grief I 

bear. 
She, at whose name I shed these spiteful 

tears. 
She owes to me the very charms she wears. 
An awkward thing when first she came to 

town. 
Her shape unfashion'd, and her face un- 
known: 60 
She was my friend; I taught her first to 

spread 
Upon her sallow cheeks enlivening red; 
I introduced her to the park and plays. 
And by my int'rest Cozens made her Stays. / 
Ungrateful wretch! with mimic airs grown ; 

pert. 
She dares to steal my favourite lover's 

heart. 
Card. Wretch that I was, how often 

have I swore, 
When Winnall tallied, I would punt no 

more! 
I know the bite, yet to my ruin run. 
And see the folly which I cannot shun. 70 



io6 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 17 13 AND 17 17 



Smil. How many maids have Sharper's 

vows deceiv'd ? 
How many curs'd the moment thev be- 

liev'd ? 
Yet his known falsehoods could no warning 

prove : 
Ah! what is warning to a maid in love ? 
Card. But of what marble nwist that 

breast be form'd, 
To gaze on Basset, and remain unwarm'd ? 
When Kings, Queens, Knaves, are set in 

decent rank, 
Exposed in glorious heaps the tempting 

Bank, 
Guineas, half-guineas, all the shining train. 
The winner's pleasure, and the loser's 

pain. 80 

In bright confusion open Rouleaux lie. 
They strike the soul, and glitter in the eye: 
Fired by the sight, all reason I disdain. 
My passions rise, and will not bear the 

rein. 
Look upon Basset, you who reason boast. 
And see if reason must not there be lost. 
Smil. What more than marble must 

that heart compose 
Can barken coldly to my Sharper's vows ? 
Then when he trembles! when his blushes 

rise! 
When awful love seems melting in his 

eyes! 90 

With eager beats his Mechlin cravat 

moves: 
' He loves ' — I whisper to myself, ' He 

loves! ' 
Such unfeign'd passion in his looks appears, 
I lose all mem'ry of my former fears; 
My panting heart confesses all his charms, 
I yield at on«e, and sink into his arms. 
Think of that moment, you who Prudence 

boast; 
For such a moment Prudence well were 

lost. 
Card. At the Groom-Porter's batter'd 

bullies play, 99 

Some dukes at Mary-bone bowl time away; 
But who the Bowl or rattling Dice com- 
pares 
To Basset's heav'nly joys and pleasing 

cares ? 
Smil. Soft Simplicetta dotes upon a 

beau; 
Prudina likes a man, and laughs at show: 
Their several graces in my Sharper meet. 
Strong as the footman, as the master sweet. 



Lov. Cease your contention, which has 

been too long; 
I grow impatient, and the tea 's too strong. 
Attend, and yield to what I now decide; 
The equipage shall grace Smilinda's side; no 
The snuffbox to Cardelia I decree; 
Now leave complaining, and begin your 

tea. 



EPIGRAM ON THE TOASTS OF 
THE KIT-CAT CLUB 

ANNO I 716 

Whence deathless ' Kit-cat ' took its name, 

Few critics can unriddle: 
Some say from ' Pastrycook ' it came, 

And some, from ' cat ' and ' fiddle.' 

From no trim Beaux its name it boasts, 
Gray Statesmen, or green wits ; 

But from this pellmell pack of Toasts 
Of old 'cats ' and young 'kits.' 



THE CHALLENGE 

A COURT BALLAD 

TO THE TUNE OF ' TO ALL YOU LADIES NOW 
AT LAND,' ETC. 

This lively ballad, written in 1717, belongs 
to the period of Pope's intimacy with court 
society. The three ladies here addressed were 
attached to the court of the Prince and Prhi- 
cess of Wales. 



To one fair lady out of Court, 

And two fair ladies in, 
Who think the Turk and Pope a sport, 

And wit and love no sin; 
Come these soft lines, with nothing stiff in, 
To Bellenden, Lepell, and Griffin. 
With a fa, la, la. 

II 

What passes in the dark third row, 

And what behind the scene, 
Couches and crippled chairs I know, 

And garrets hung with green; 
I know the swing of sinful hack. 
Where many damsels cry alack. 
With a fa, la, la. 



PROLOGUE FOR MR. D'URFEY'S LAST PLAY 



107 



III 

Then why to Courts should I repair, 

Where 's such ado with Townshend ? 
To hear each mortal stamp and swear, 
And every speech with Zounds end; 
To hear 'em rail at honest Sunderland, 
And rashly blame the realm of Blunder- 
land. 

With a fa, la, la. 

IV 

Alas! like Schutz, I cannot pun. 
Like Grafton court the Germans; 

Tell Pickenbourg how slim she 's grown, 
Like Meadows run to sermons; 

To Court ambitious men may roam, 

But I and Marlbro' stay at home. 
With a fa, la, la. 



In truth, by what I can discern. 
Of courtiers 'twixt you three. 

Some wit you have, and more may learn 
From Court, than Gay or me; 

Perhaps, in time, you '11 leave high diet, 

To sup with us on milk and quiet. 
With a fa, la, la. 

VI 

At Leicester-Fields, a house full high. 
With door all painted green, 

Where ribbons wave upon the tie 
(A milliner I mean). 

There may you meet us three to three, 

For Gay can well make two of me. 
With a fa, la, la. 

VII 

But should you catch the prudish itch 

And each become a coward, 
Bring sometimes with you lady Rich, 

And sometimes mistress Howard; 
For virgins to keep chaste must go 
Abroad with such as are not so. 
With a fa, la, la. 

VIII 

And thus, fair maids, my ballad ends: 
God send the King safe landing; 

And make all honest ladies friends 
To armies that are standing; 

Preserve the limits of those nations, 

And take off ladies' limitations. 
With a fa, la, la. 



THE LOOKING-GLASS 

ON MRS. PULTEXEY 

Mrs. Pulteney was a daughter of one John 
Guraley, who had made a fortune by a glass 
manufactory. 

With scornful mien, and various toss of air. 
Fantastic, vain, and insolently fair. 
Grandeur intoxicates her giddy brain. 
She looks ambition, and she moves disdain. 
Far other carriage graced her virgin life, 
But charming Gumley 's lost in Pulteney's 

wife. 
Not greater arrogance in him we find. 
And this conjunction swells at least her 

mind. 
O could the sire, renown'd in glass, pro- 
duce 
One faithful mirror for his daughter's use! 
Wherein she might her haughty errors 

trace. 
And by reflection learn to mend her face: 
The wonted sweetness to her form restore, 
Be what she was, and charm mankind once 
more. 



PROLOGUE, DESIGNED FOR MR. 
D'URFEY'S LAST PLAY 

' Tom ' D'Urf ey was a writer of popular 
farces under the Restoration. Through Addi- 
son's influence his play The Plotting Sisters 
was I'evived for his benefit ; and the present 
prologue was possibly written for that occa- 
sion. It was first published in 1727. 

Grown old in rhyme, 't were barb'rous to 

discard 
Your persevering, unexhausted Bard : 
Damnation follows death in other men, 
But your damn'd poet lives and writes 

again. 
The adventurous lover is successful still, 
Who strives to please the Fair against her 

will. 
Be kind, and make him in his wishes easy. 
Who in your own despite has strove to 

please ye. 
He scorn'd to borrow from the Wits of yore. 
But ever writ, as none e'er writ before. 10 
You modern Wits, should each man bring 

his claim. 
Have desperate debentures on your fame; 



io8 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1713 AND 1717 



And little would be left you, I 'm afraid, 
If all your debts to Greece and Rome were 

paid. 
From this deep fund our author largely 

draws, 
Nor sinks his credit lower than it was. 
Tho' plays for honour in old time he made, 
'T is now for better reasons — to be paid. 
Believe him, he bas known the world too 

long. 
And seen the death of much immortal 

song. 20 

He says, poor poets lost, while players won, 
As pimps grow rich while gallants are un- 
done. 
Though Tom the poet writ with ease and 

pleasure, 
The comic Tom abounds in other treasure. 
Fame is at best an unperforming cheat; 
But 't is substantial happiness to eat. 
Let ease, his last request, be of your giving. 
Nor force him to be damn'd to get his liv- 

ins". 



PROLOGUE TO THE 'THREE 
HOURS AFTER MARRIAGE' 

Three Hours after Marriage was a dull and 
unsuccessful farce produced in January, 1717, 
at the Drurv Lane Theatre. Though it was 
attributed to the joint authorship of Pope, Gay, 
and Arbutlmot, direct proof is lacking- not 
only of Pope's share in the play, but of his 
authorship of the Prologue. Of the latter fact, 
at least, we have, however, indirect evidence in 
Pope's resentment of the ridicule cast by Gib- 
ber, in a topical impromptu, upon the play ; 
the incident which first roused Pope's enmity 
for Gibber, which resulted in his eventually dis- 
placing- Theobald as the central figure in The 
Dunciad. 

Authors are judged by strange capricious 

rules, 
The great ones are thought mad, the small 

ones fools: 
Yet sure the best are most severely fated; 
For Fools are only laugh'd at, Wits are 

hated. 
Blockheads with reason men of sense abhor; 
But fool 'gainst fool, is barb'rous civil war. 
Why on all Authors then should Critics 

fall? 
Since some have writ, and shown no wit at 

all. 



Condemn a play of theirs, and they evade 

it; 
Cry, ' Damn not us, but damn the French, 

who made it.' lo 

By running goods these graceless Owlers 

gain; 
Theirs are the rules of France, the plots of 

Spain: 
But wit, like wine, from happier climates 

brought, 
Dash'd by these rogues, turns English com- 
mon draught. 
They pall Moliere's and Lopez' sprightly 

strain. 
And teach dull Harlequins to grin in vain. 
How shall our Author hope a gentler 

fate, 
Who dares most impudently not translate? 
It had been civil, in these ticklish times. 
To fetch his fools and knaves from foreign 

climes. 20 

Spaniards and French abuse to the world's 

end. 
But spare old England, lest you hurt a 

friend. 
If any fool is by our satire bit. 
Let him hiss loud, to show you all he 's hit. 
Poets make characters, as salesmen clothes; 
We take no measure of your Fops and 

Beaux; 
But here all sizes and all shapes you meet. 
And fit yourselves like chaps in Monmouth 

Street. 
Gallants, look here ! this Foolscap has 

an air 29 

Goodly and smart, with ears of Issachar. 
Let no one fool engross it, or confine 
A common blessing! now 't is yours, now 

mine. 
But poets in all ages had the care 
To keep this cap for such as will, to wear. 
Our Author has it now (for every Wit 
Of course resign'd it to the next that writ) 
And thus upon the stage 'tis fairly thrown; 
Let him that takes it wear it as his own. 



PRAYER OF BRUTUS 

FROM GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH 

The Rev. Aaron Thompson, of Queen's Col- 
lege, Oxon., translated the Chronicle of Geoffrey 
of Monmouth. He submitted the transla- 
tion to Pope, 1717, who gave him the follow- 



TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU 



109 



ing- lines, being' a translation of a Prayer of 
Brutus. (Cariuthers.) 

Goddess of woods, tremendous iii the 

chase 
To mouutain wolves and all the savage 

race. 
Wide o'er th' aerial vault extend thy 

sway. 
And o'er th' infernal regions void of day. 

On thy Third Reign look down; disclose 

our fate ; 
In what new station shall we fix our 

seat ? 
When shall we next thy hallow'd altars 

raise. 
And choirs of virgins celebrate thy praise ? 



TO LADY MARY WORTLEY 
MONTAGU 

While there is no absolute date to be given 
for this or the following" poem, both evidently 
belong' to the period of Pope's somewhat fanci- 
ful attachment for Lady Mary. 



In beauty, or wit, 

No mortal as yet 
To question your empire has dar'd; 

But men of discerning 

Have thought that in learning, 
To yield to a lady was hard. 

II 

Impertinent schools. 

With musty dull rules, 
Have reading to females denied: 

So Papists refuse 

The Bible to use. 
Lest flocks should be wise as their guide. 



Ill 

'T was a woman at first, 
(Indeed she was curst) 

In Knowledge that tasted delight, 
And sages agree 
The laws should decree 

To the first possessor the right. 

IV 

Then bravely, fair Dame, 
Resume the old claim. 

Which to your whole sex does belong; 
And let men receive. 
From a second bright Eve, 

The knowledge of right and of wrong. 



But if the first Eve 

Hard doom did receive, 
When only one apple had she, 

What a punishment new 

Shall be found out for you, 
Who tasting have robb'd the whole tree ? 



EXTEMPORANEOUS LINES 

ON A PORTRAIT OF LADY MARY WORT- 
LEY MONTAGU, PAINTED BY KNELLER 

The playful smiles around the dimpled 

mouth. 
That happy air of majesty and truth, 
So would I draw (but oh! 't is vain to try; 
My narrow Genius does the power deny;) 
The equal lustre of the heav'nly mind. 
Where ev'ry grace with ev'ry virtue 's 

join'd; 
Learning not vain, and Wisdom not severe, 
With Greatness easy, and with Wit sincere; 
With just description show the work divine, 
And the whole Princess in my work 

should shine. 



•i^vfy- 









I lO 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 



1?^^... 



3^r 



^v 



*Ova,/\ 



->>^^--il>U^ t;(r 



TO 



ELOISA 

The orig'ln of this famous poem seems to 
have lain jointly in Pope's perception of the 
poetic availability of the H^loise-Abelard le- 
g-end, and in his somewhat factitious grief in 
his separation from Lady Mary Wortley Mon- 
tagu. They met in 1715, became friends, and in 

ELOISA TO ABELARD 

ARGUMENT 

Abelard and Eloisa flourished in the twelfth 
century ; they were two of the most distin- 
guished persons of their age in Learning and 
Beauty, but for nothing more famous than for 
their unfortunate passion. After a long course 
of calamities, they retired each to a several 
convent, and consecrated the remainder of their 
days to Religion. It was many years after 
this separation that a letter of Abelard's to a 
friend, which contained the history of his mis- 
fortune, fell into the hands of Eloisa. This, 
awakening all her tenderness, occasioned those 
celebrated letters (out of which the following 
is partly extracted), which give so lively a 
picture of the struggles of Grace and Nature, 
Virtue and Passion. 

In these deep solitudes and awful cells, 
Where heav'nly-pensive Contemplation 

dwells, 
And ever-musing Melancholy reigns, 
What means this tumult in a vestal's veins ? 
Why rove my thoughts beyond this last re- 
treat ? 
Why feels my heart its long-forgotten 

heat? 
Yet, yet I love! — From Abelard it came, 
And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. 

Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, 
Nor pass these lips, in holy silence seal'd: lo 
Hide it, my heart, within that close dis- 
guise. 
Where, mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies: 
O write it not, my hand — the name ap- 
pears 
Already written — wash it out, my tears! 
In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, 
Her heart still dictates, and her hand 
obeys. 
Relentless walls! whose darksome round 
contains 
Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains : 



u- 



ABELARD 

1716 Lady Mary left England. In a letter of 
June, 1717, Pope commends the poem to her 
consideration, wath a suggestion of the personal / 
applicability of the concluding lines to his own / 
suffering under the existing "circumstance of 
their separation. 

Ye rugged rocks, which holy knees have 

worn; 
Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid 

thorn! 20 

Shrines! where their vigils pale-eyed 

virgins keep, 
And pitying saints, whose statues learn to 

weep! 
Tho' cold like you, unmov'd and silent 

grown, 
I have not yet forgot myself to stone. 
All is not Heav'n's while Abelard has part, 
Still rebel Nature holds out half my heart; 
Nor prayers nor fasts its stubborn pulse re- 
strain. 
Nor tears, for ages taught to flow in vain. 
Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose, 
That well - known name awakens all my 

woes. 30 

Oh name for ever sad! for ever dear! 
Still breathed in sighs, still usher'd with a 

tear. 
I tremble too, where'er my own I find, 
Some dire misfortune follows close behind. 
Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow, 
LeH thro' a safe variety of woe: 
Now warm in love, now with'ring in my 

bloom, 
Lost in a convent's solitary gloom! 
There stern religion quench'd th' miwilling 

flame, 
There died the best of passions, Love and 

Fame. 40 

Yet write, O write me all, that I may join 

Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to 

thine. 
Nor foes nor fortune take this power away; 
And is my Abelard less kind than they ? 
Tears still are mine, and those I need not 

spare ; 
Love but demands what else were shed in 

prayer. 
No happier task these faded eyes pursue; 
To read and weep is all they now can do. 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 



III 



Then share thy pain, allow that sad re- 
lief; 
Ah, more than share it, give me all thy 

grief. 50 

Heav'n first taught letters for some wretch's 

aid. 
Some bauish'd lover, or some captive maid; 
They live, they speak, they breathe what 

love inspires, 
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its 

fires; 
The virgin's wish without her fears impart, 
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the 

heart. 
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul, 
And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole. 
Thou know'st how guiltless first I met 

thy flame. 
When Love approach'd me under Friend- 
ship's name; 60 
My fancy form'd thee of angelic kind. 
Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Muid. 
Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring every ray, 
Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day. 
Guiltless I gazed; Heav'n listen'd while 

you sung; 
And truths divine came mended from that 

tongue. 
From lips like those what precept fail'd to 

move ? 
nToo soon they tauglit me 't was no sin to 

love : 
Back thro' the paths of pleasing sense I 

ran, 69 

Nor wish'd an angel whom I loved a man. 
Dim and remote the joys of saints I see; 
Nor envy them that Heav'n I lose for thee. 
HoWoft, when press'd to marriage, have 

I said. 
Curse on all laws but those which Love has 

made ! 
Love, free as air, at sight of human ties. 
Spreads his light wings, and in a moment 

flies. 
Let Wealth, let Honour, wait the wedded 

dame, 
August her deed, and sacred be her fame; 
Before true passion all those views remove; 
Fame, Wealth, and Honour ! what are you 

to Love ? So 

The jealous God, when we profane his fires, 
Those restless passions in revenge inspires, 
And bids them make mistaken mortals 

groan. 
Who seek in love for aught but love alone. 



Should at my feet the world's great master 

fall. 
Himself, his throne, his world, I 'd scorn 

'em all: 
Not Csesar's empress would I deign to 

prove ; 
No, make me mistress to the man I love; 
If there be yet another name more free, 
More fond than mistress, make me that to 

thee ! 90 

happy state ! when souls each other draw, 
WJien Love is liberty, and Nature law: 
All then is full, possessing and possess'd. 
No craving void left aching in the breast: 
Ev'u thought meets thought, ere from the 

lips it part. 

And each warm wish springs mutual from 
the heart. 

This sure is bliss (if bliss on earth there 
be). 

And once the lot of Abelard and me. 

Alas, how changed ! what sudden horrors 
rise ! 

A naked lover bound and bleeding lies ! 100 

Where, where was Eloise ? her voice, her 
hand. 

Her poniard had opposed the dire com- 
mand. 

Barbarian, stay ! that bloody stroke re- 
strain ; 

The crime was common, common be the 
pain. 

1 can no more; by shame, by rage sup- 

press'd. 
Let tears and burning blushes speak the 

rest. 
Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn 

day. 
When victims at yon altar's foot we lay ? 
Canst thou forget what tears that moment 

fell. 
When, warm in youth, I bade the world 

farewell? no 

As with cold lips I kiss'd the sacred veil, 
The shrines all trembled, and the lamps 

grew pale: 
Heav'n scarce believ'd the conquest it sur- 

yey'd. 
And saints with wonder heard the vows I 

made. 
Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew, 
Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but 

you: 
Not grace, or zeal, love only was my calL 
And if I lose thy love, I lose my all. 



112 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 



^ Come ! with thy looks, thy words, relieve 

my woe; 119 

Those still at least are left thee to bestow. 
Still on that breast enamour'd let me lie, 
Still drink delicious poison from thy eye, 
Pant on thy lip, and to thy heart be press'd; 
Give all thou canst — and let me dream the 

rest. 
Ah, no ! instruct me other joys to prize. 
With other beauties charm my partial eyes ! 
Full in my view set all the bright abode, 
And make my soul quit Abelard for God. 
Ah, think at least thy flock deserves thy 

care, 
Plants of thy hand, and children of thy 

prayer. 130 

From the false world in early youth they 

fled. 
By thee to mountains, wilds, and deserts led. 
You raised tliese hallow'd walls; the desert 

smil'd, 
And Paradise was open'd in the wild. 
No weeping orphan saw his father's stores 
Our shrines irradiate or emblaze the floors; 
No silver saints, by dying misers giv'n, 
Here bribed the rage of ill-requited Heav'n; 
But such plain roofs as piety could raise. 
And only vocal with the Maker's praise. 140 
In these lone walls (their day's eternal 

bound), 
These moss-grown domes with spiry turrets 

crown 'd. 
Where awful arches make a noonday night. 
And the dim windows shed a solemn light. 
Thy eyes diffused a reconciling ray. 
And gleams of glory brighten'd all the day. 
But now no face divine contentment wears, 
'T is all blank sadness, or continual tears. 
See how the force of others' prayers I try, 
(O pious fraud of am'rous charity !) 150 
But why should I on others' prayers de- 
pend ? 
Come thou, my father, brother, husband, 

friend ! 
Ah, let thy handmaid, sister, daughter, 

move, 
And all those tender names in one, thy 

love ! 
The darksome pines, that o'er yon rocks 

reclin'd. 
Wave high, and murmur to the hollow 

wind. 
The wand'ring streams that shine between 

the hills. 
The grots that echo to the tinkling rills, 



The dying gales that pant upon the trees. 
The lakes that quiver to the curling 
breeze — 160 

No more these scenes my meditation aidi 
Or lull to rest the visionary maid: / 

But o'er the twilight groves and dusky 

caves. 
Long - sounding aisles and intermingled 

graves. 
Black Melancholy sits, and round her 

throws 
A death-like silence, and a dread repose: 
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene. 
Shades every flower, and darkens every 

green. 
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods. 
And breathes a browner horror on the 
woods. 170 

Yet here for ever, ever must I stay; 
Sad proof how well a lover can obey! 
Death, only Death can break the lasting 

chain ; 
And here, ev'n then shall my cold dust re- 
main ; 
Here all its frailties, all its flames resign, 
And wait till 't is no sin to mix with thine. 
Ah, wretch! believ'd the spouse of God 
in vain, 
Confess'd within the slave of Love and man. 
Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that 

prayer ? 
Sprung it from piety or from despair ? 180 
Ev'n here, where frozen Chastity retires, 
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires. 
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought; \ 
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault; 
I view my crime, but kindle at the view, 
Repent old pleasures, and solicit new; 
Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past 

offence. 
Now think of thee, and curse my innocence. 
Of all affliction taught a lover yet, 
'T is sure the hardest science to forget! 190 
How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the 

sense, 
And love th' offender, yet detest th' of- 
fence ? 
How the dear object from the crime re- 
move, 
Or how distinguish Penitence from Love ? 
Unequal task! a passion to resign. 
For hearts so touch'd, so pierced, so lost 

as mine: 
Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state. 
How often must it love, how often hate! 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 



113 



How often hope, despair, resent, regret, 

Conceal, disdain — do all things but for- 
get! 200 

But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 't is fired ; 

Not touch'd, but rapt ; not waken'd, but 
inspired! 

come! O teach mc Nature to subdue, 
Renounce my love, my life, myself — and 

You: 
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he 
Alone can rival, can succeed to thee. 

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! 
The world forgetting, by the world forgot; 
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, 
Each prayer accepted, and each wish re- 

sign'd; 210 

Labour and rest, that equal periods keep ; 
Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep; 
Desires composed, affections ever ev'n; 
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to 

Heav'n. 
Grace shines around her with serenest 

beams, 
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden 

dreams. 
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms, 
And wings of seraphs shed divine per- 
fumes ; 
For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring; 
For her white virgins hymeneals sing; 220 
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away, 
And melts in visions of eternal day. 

Far other dreams my erring soul employ, 
Far other raptures of unholy joy. 
When at the close of each sad, sorrowing 

day, 
Fancy restores what vengeance snatch'd 

away. 
Then conscience sleeps, and leaving Nature 

free, 
All my loose soul unbounded springs to 

thee! 
Oh curst, dear horrors of all-conscious night! 
How glowing guilt exalts the keen delight! 
Provoking demons all restraint remove, 231 
And stir within me every source of love. 

1 hear thee, view thee, gaze o'er all thy 

charms. 
And round thy phantom glue my clasping 

arms. 
I wake: — no more I hear, no more I 

view, 
The phantom flies me, as unkind as you. 
I call aloud; it hears not what I say: 
I stretch my empty arms; it glides away. 



To dream once more I close my willing 

eyes; 
Ye soft illusions, dear deceits, arise! 240 
Alas, no more! methinks we wand'ring go 
Thro' dreary wastes, and weep each other's 

woe, 
Where round some mould'ring tower pale 

ivy creeps, 
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er 

the deeps. 
Sudden you mount, you beckon from the 

skies; 
Clouds interpose, waves roar, and winds 

arise. 
I shriek, start up, the same sad prospect 

find, 
And wake to all the griefs I left behind. 

For thee the Fates, severely kind, ordain 
A cool suspense from pleasure and from 

pain; 250 

Thy life a long dead calm of fix'd repose; 
No pulse that riots, and no blood that 

glows. 
Still as the sea, ere winds were taught to 

blow. 
Or moving spirit bade the waters flow; 
Soft as the slumbers of a saint forgiv'n, 
And mild as opening gleams of promised 

Heav'n. 
Come, Abelard! for what hast thou to 

dread ? 
The torch of Venus burns not for the dead. 
Nature stands check'd; Religion disap- 
proves ; 
Ev'n thou art cold — yet Eloisa loves. 260 
Ah^opeless, lasting flames ; like those that 

"burn 
To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful 

urn! 
What scenes appear where'er I turn my 

view; 
The dear ideas, where I fly, pursue; 
Rise in the grove, before the altar rise. 
Stain all my soul, and wanton in my eyes. 
I waste the matin lamp in sighs for thee, 
Thy image steals between my God and me: 
Thy voice I seem in every hymn to hear, 
With every bead I drop too soft a tear. 270 
When from the censer clouds of fragrance 

roll, 
And swelling organs lift the rising soul, 
One thought of thee puts all the pomp to 

flight. 
Priests, tapers, temples, swim before my 

sight : 



114 



ELOISA TO ABELARD 



In seas of flame my plunging soul is 

drown'd, 
While altars blaze, and angels tremble 

round. 
While prostrate here in humble grief I 

lie, 
Kind virtuous drops just gath'ring in my 

eye, 
While praying, trembling, in the dust I roll, 
And dawning grace is opening on my soul: 
Come, if thou dar'st, all charming as thou 

art! 281 

Oppose thyself to Heav'n; dispute my 

heart; 
Come, with one glance of those deluding 

eyes 
Blot out each bright idea of the skies; 
Take back that grace, those sorrows and 

those tears, 
Take back my fruitless penitence and 

prayers ; 
Snatch me, just mounting, from the blest 

abode : 
Assist the fiends, and tear me from my 

God! 
No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole; 
Rise Alps between us ! and whole oceans 

roll ! 290 

Ah, come not, write not, think not once of 

me, 
Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. 
Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; 
Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was 

mine. 
Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I 

view). 
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu ! 
O Grace serene ! O Virtue heav'nly fair ! 
Divine Oblivion of low-thoughted care ! 
Fresh blooming Hope, gay daughter of the 

sky ! 
And Faith, our early immortality ! 300 

Enter each mild, each amicable guest; 
Receive, and wrap me in eternal rest ! 

See in her cell sad Eloisa spread, 
Propt on some tomb, a neighbour of the 

dead. 
In each low wind methinks a spirit calls. 
And more than echoes talk along the walls. 
Here, as I watch'd the dying lamps around. 
From yonder shrine I heard a hollow 

sound: 
* Come, sister, come ! (it said, or seem'd to 

say) 
Thy place is here, sad sister, come away; 



Once, like thyself, I trembled, wept, and 

pray'd, 31, 

Love's victim then, tho' now a sainted 

maid: 
But all is calm in this eternal sleep; 
Here grief forgets to groan, and love to 

weep ; 
Ev'n superstition loses ev'ry fear: 
For God, not man, absolves our frailties 

here.' 
I come, I come ! prepare your roseate 

bowers. 
Celestial palms, and ever-blooming flowers. 
Thither, where sinners may have rest, I go, 
Where flames refin'd in breasts seraphic 

glow; 320 

Thou, Abelard ! the last sad office pay, 
And smooth my passage to the realms of 

day: 
See my lips tremble, and my eyeballs roll. 
Suck my last breath, and catch my flying 

soul ! 
Ah, no — in sacred vestments mayst thou 

stand. 
The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand. 
Present the cross before my lifted eye. 
Teach me at once, and learn of me, to die. 
Ah then, thy once lov'd Eloisa see ! 
It will be then no crime to gaze on me. 330 
See from my cheek the transient roses fly ! 
See the last sparkle languish in my eye ! 
Till ev'ry motion, pulse, and breath be o'er, 
And ev'n my Abelard be lov'd no more. 
O Death, all-eloquent ! you only prove 
What dust we doat on, when 't is man we 

love. 
Then too, when Fate shall thy fair frame 

destroy 
(That cause of all my guilt, and all my 

joy), 
In trance ecstatic may thy pangs be 

drown'd, 
Bright clouds descend, and angels watch 

thee round; 340 

From opening skies may streaming glories 

shine, 
And saints embrace thee with a love like 

mine. 
May one kind grave unite each hapless 

name, 
And graft my love immortal on thy fame ! 
Then, ages hence, when all my woes are 

o'er, 
When this rebellious heart shall beat no 

more: 



A DIALOGUE 



1 1 



If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings, 
To Paraclete's white walls and silver 

springs, 
O'er the pale marble shall they join their 

heads, 
And drink the falling tears each other 

sheds; 350 

Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, 
* O may we never love as these have lov'd ! ' 
From the full choir, when loud hosannas 

rise, 
And swell the pomp of dreadful sacrifice, 
Amid that scene if some relenting eye 
Glance on the stone where our cold relics 

lie, 



Devotion's self shall steal a thought from 
Heav'n, 

One human tear shall drop, and be forgiv'n. 

And sure if Fate some future bard shall join 

In sad similitude of griefs to mine, 360 

Condemn'd whole years in absence to de- 
plore, 

And image charms he must behold no 
more, — 

Such if there be, who loves so long, so well, 

Let him our sad, our tender story tell; 

The well-sung woes will soothe my pensive 
ghost; 

He best can paint them who shall feel them 
most. 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1718 AND 1727 



AN INSCRIPTION UPON A 
PUNCH-BOWL 

IX THE SOUTH SEA YEAR, FOR A CLUB : 
CHASED WITH JUPITER PLACING CAL- 
LISTO IN THE SKIES, AND EUROPA 
WITH THE BULL 

Pope himself became seriously involved in 
the South Sea speculations, and while he does 
not appear to have been a heavy loser in the 
end, his unwise action for friends, notably for 
Lady Mary Wortley seems to have gotten hira 
into some difficulties. This was of course writ- 
ten before the bursting of the bubble ; pre- 
sumably in 1720. 

Come, fill the South Sea goblet full; 

The gods shall of our stock take care; 
Europa pleased accepts the Bull, 

And Jove with joy puts off the Bear. 



EPISTLE TO JAMES CRAGGS, 
ESQ. 

SECRETARY OF STATE 

Craggs was made Secretary of War in 1717, 
when Addison was Secretary of State. He 
succeeded Addison in 1720, and died in the 
following year. He was an intimate friend and 
correspondent of Pope's after 1711. 

A SOUL as full of Worth as void of Pride, 
W^hich nothing seeks to show, or needs to 
hide, 



Which nor to guilt nor fear its Caution 

owes. 
And boasts a Warmth that from no passion 

flows ; 
A face untaught to feign; a judging eye. 
That darts severe upon a rising lie, 
And strikes a blush thro' frontless Flat- 
tery — 
All this thou wert; and being tliis before, 
Know, Kings and Fortune cannot make 

thee more. 
Then scorn to gain a friend by servile 

ways, 
Nor wish to lose a foe these virtues raise; 
But candid, free, sincere, as you began, 
Proceed, a Minister, but still a Man. 
Be not (exalted to whate'er degree) 
Ashamed of any friend, not ev'n of me: 
The patriot's plain but untrod path pursue; 
If not, 't is I must be ashamed of you. 



A DIALOGUE 

POPE 

Since my old friend is grown so great, 
As to be Minister of State, 
I 'm told, but 't is not true, I hope. 
That Craggs will be ashamed of Pope. 

CRAGGS 

Alas! if I am such a creature, 
To grow the worse for growing greatefj 
Why, faith, in spite of all my brags, 
'T is Pope must be ashamed of Ciaggs. 



ii6 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 17 18 AND 1727 



VERSES TO MR. C. 

ST. JAMES'S PALACE, LONDON, OCT. 22 

Probably Crag-gs, who was in office at the 
time when Pope established himself at Twick- 
enham. (Ward.) 

Few words are best; I wish you well; 

Bethel, I'm told, will soon be here; 
Some morning walks along the Mall, 

And ev'ning friends, will end the year. 

If, in this interval, between 

The falling leaf and coming frost, 

You please to see, on Twit'nam green, 
Your friend, your poet, and your host: 

For three whole days you here may rest 
From Office bus'ness, news, and strife; 

And (what most folks would think a jest) 
Want nothing else, except your wife. 



TO MR. GAY 

WHO HAD CONGRATULATED POPE ON 
FINISHING HIS HOUSE AND GARDENS 

Written early in 1722. 

Ah, friend! 't is true — this truth you lov- 
ers know — 

In vain my structures rise, my gardens 
grow, 

In vain fair Thames reflects the double 
scenes 

Of hanging mountains, and of sloping 
greens; 

Joy lives not here, to happier seats it flies. 

And only dwells where Wortley casts her 
eyes. 
What are the gay Parterre, the chequer'd 
Shade, 

The morning Bower, the ev'ning Colon- 
nade, 

But soft recesses of uneasy minds, 

To sigh unheard in to the passing winds ? 

So the struck deer in some sequester'd 
part 

Lies down to die, the arrow at his heart; 

He stretch'd unseen in coverts hid from 
day, 

Bleeds drop by drop, and pants his life 
away. 



ON DRAWINGS OF THE STAT- 
UES OF APOLLO, VENUS, AND 
HERCULES 

MADE FOR POPE BY SIR GODFREY 
KNELLER 

These drawings were made for the adorn* 
ment of Pope's house at Twickenham. 

What god, what genius did the pencil 
move, 
When Kneller painted these ? 
'T was friendship, warm as Phoebus, kind 
as Love, 
And strong as Hercules. 

EPISTLE TO ROBERT EARL OF 
OXFORD AND MORTIMER 

PREFIXED TO PARNELL'S POEMS 

Such were the notes thy once-lov'd Poet 

sung, 
Till Death untimely stopp'd his tuneful 

tongue. 
Oh, just beheld and lost! admired and 

mourn'd! 
With softest manners, gentlest arts, 

adorn'd! 
Bless'd in each science! bless'd in ev'ry 

strain ! 
Dear to the Muse! to Harley dear — in 

vain! 
For him thou oft hast bid the world 

attend, 
Fond to forget the statesman in the friend ; 
For Swift and him despised the farce of 

state, 
The sober follies of the wise and great, lo 
Dext'rous the craving, fawning crowd to 

quit, 
And pleas'd to 'scape from Flattery to 

W^it. 
Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear 
(A sigh the absent claims, the dead a tear); 
Recall those nights that closed thy toilsome 

days, 
Still hear thy Parnell in his living lays; 
Who, careless now of Int'rest, Fame, or 

Fate, 
Perhaps forgets that Oxford e'er was great; 
Or deeming meanest what we greatest 

call, 
Beholds thee glorious only in thy fall. 20 



TWO CHORUSES TO THE TRAGEDY OF BRUTUS 117 



And sure if aught below tbe seats divine 
Can touch immortals, 't is a soul like thine; 
A soul supreme, in each hard instance tried, 
Above all pain, all passion, and all pride. 
The rage of power, the blast of public 

breath, 
The lust of lucre, and the dread of death. 
In vain to deserts thy retreat is made; 
The Muse attends thee to thy silent shade ; 
*Tis hers the brave man's latest steps to 

trace, 
Rejudge his acts, and dignify disgrace. 30 
When Int'rest calls off all her sneaking 

train. 
And all th' obliged desert, and all the 

vain. 
She waits, or to the scaffold or the cell. 
When the last ling'ring friend has bid 

farewell. 
Ev'n now she shades thy evening walk 

with bays 
(No hireling she, no prostitute to praise) ; 
Ev'n now, observant of the parting ray. 
Eyes the calm sunset of thy various day. 
Thro' fortune's cloud one truly great can 

see, 
Nor fears to tell that Mortimer is he. 40 



TWO CHORUSES TO THE TRA- 
GEDY OF BRUTUS 

Brutus, says Pope, was a play ' altered 
from Shakespeare by^the Uuke of Buckingham, 
at whose desire these choruses were composed 
to supply as many wanting in his play.' 
Marcus Brutus was one of two plays (the other 
retaining Shakespeare's title) manufactured by 
John Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire, out 
of Julius Ccesar. Both were published in 
1722. Pope's choruses stand after the first and 
second acts of Brutus. The plays have no 
literary merit. 

CHORUS OF ATHENIANS 

Strophe I 
Ye shades, where sacred truth is sought, 
Groves, where immortal sages taught, 
Where heav'nly visions Plato fired. 
And Epicurus lay inspired! 
In vain your guiltless laurels stood 
Unspotted long with human blood. 

War, horrid war, your thoughtful walks in- 
vades, 

And steel now glitters in the Muses' shades. 



Antistrophe I 
O Heav'n-born sisters! source of Art! 
Who charm the sense, or mend the heart; 
Who lead fair Virtue's train along, 
Moral Truth and mystic Song! 
To what new clime, what distant sky, 
Forsaken, friendless, shall ye fly ? 

Say, will ye bless the bleak Atlantic shore ? 

Or bid the furious Gaul be rude no more ? 

Strophe II 
When Athens sinks by fates unjust, 
When wild Barbarians spurn her dust; 
Perhaps ev'n Britain's utmost shore 
Shall cease to blush with strangers' gore, 
See Arts her savage sons control, 
And Athens rising near the pole! 
Till some new tyrant lifts his purple hand, 
And civil madness tears them from the land. 

Antistrophe II 

Ye Gods! what justice rules the ball ? 

Freedom and Arts together fall; 

Fools grant whate'er Ambition craves. 

And men, once ignorant, are slaves. 

O curs'd effects of civil hate, 

In ev'ry age, in ev'ry state! 
Still, when the lust of tyrant Power suc- 
ceeds, 
Some Athens perishes, some TuUy bleeds. 

CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND VIRGINS 

Semichorus 
O tyrant Love! hast thou possest 
The prudent, learned, and virtuous 

breast ? 
Wisdom and wit in vain reclaim. 
And arts but soften us to feel thy flame. 
Love, soft intruder, enters here. 
But ent'ring learns to be sincere. 
Marcus with blushes owns he loves, 
And Brutus tenderly reproves. 

Why, Virtue, dost thou blame desire 

Which Nature hath imprest ? 
Why, Nature, dost thou soonest fire 
The mild and gen'rous breast ? 

Chorus 
Love's purer flames the Gods approve; 
The Gods and Brutus bend to love: 
Brutus for absent Portia sighs. 
And sterner Cassius melts at Junia's eyes. 
What is loose love ? a transient gust. 
Spent in a sudden storm of lust, 



Tl8 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1718 AND 1727 



A vapour fed from wild desire, 
A wand'ring, self-consuming fire. 
But Hymen's kinder flames unite, 

And burn for ever one; 
Chaste as cold Cynthia's virgin light, 
Productive as the sun. 

Semichorus 
O source of ev'ry social tie, 
United wish, and mutual joy! 
What various joys on one attend, 
As son, as father, brother, husband, friend ? 
Whether his hoary sire he spies, 
While thousand grateful thoughts arise; 
Or meets his spouse's fonder eye, 
Or views his smiling progeny ; 

What tender passions take their turns! 

What home-felt raptures move! 
His heart now melts, now leaps, now 
burns. 
With Rev'rence, Hope, and Love. 

Chorus 
Hence guilty joys, distastes, surmises, 
Hence false tears, deceits, disguises. 
Dangers, doubts, delays, surprises, 
Fires that scorch, yet dare not shine! 
Purest Love's un wasting treasure. 
Constant faith, fair hope, long leisure, 
Days of ease, and nights of pleasure. 
Sacred Hymen! these are thine. 



TO MRS. M. B. ON HER BIRTH- 
DAY 

Written to Martha Blount in 1723. Lines 
5-10 were elsewhere adapted for a versified 
celebration of his own birthday, and for an 
epitaph on a suicide ! 

Oh, be thou blest with all that Heav'n can 
send. 

Long Health, long Youth, long Pleasure, 
and a Friend: 

Not with those Toys the female world ad- 
mire. 

Riches that vex, and Vanities that tire. 

With added years if Life bring nothing new, 

But, like a sieve, let ev'ry blessing thro'. 

Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs 
o'er, 

And all we gain, some sad Reflection more;. 

Is that a birthday ? 't is alas! too clear, 

'T is but the funeral of the former year. 



Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Coiv- 
tent, 
And the gay Conscience of a life well spent. 
Calm ev'ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace, 
Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face. 
Let day improve on day, and year on year. 
Without a Pain, a Trouble, or a Fear; 
Till Death unfelt that tender frame de- 
stroy, 
In some soft dream, or extasy of joy. 
Peaceful sleep out the Sabbath of the 

Tomb, 
And wake to raptures in a life to come. 

ANSWER TO THE FOLLOWING 
QUESTION OF MRS. HOWE 

Mary Howe was appointed Maid of Honour 
to Queen Caroline, in 1720. ' Lepell ' was an- 
other Maid of Honour, referred to in The Chal- 
lenge. 

What is Prudery ? 

'T is a beldam, 
Seen with Wit and Beauty seldom. 
'T is a fear that starts at shadows; 
'T is (no, 'tis n't) like Miss Meadows. 
'T is a \argin hard of feature. 
Old, and void of all good-nature; 
Lean and fretful; would seem wise, 
Yet plays the fool before she dies. 
'T is an ugly envious shrew. 
That rails at dear Lepell and you. 

ON A CERTAIN LADY AT 
COURT 

Catharine Howard, one of Queen Caroline's 
waiting-women ; afterward Countess of Suf- 
folk and mistress to George II. Her identifi- 
cation as the Chloe of Moral Essays, II., makes 
it easier to believe Walpole's statement that 
this lady once reprieved a condemned criminal 
that ' an experiment might be made on his 
ears for her benefit.' 

I KNOW the thing that 's most uncommon; 
(Envy, be silent, and attend!) 
I know a reasonable Woman, 
Handsome and witty, yet a friend: 

Not warp'd by Passion, awed by Rumour, 
Not grave thro' Pride, nor gay thro' Fojly, 
An equal mixture of Good-humour, 
And sensible soft Melancholy. 



THE CURLL MISCELLANIES 



119 



* Has she no faults then (Envy says), sir ? ' 
Yes, she has one, I must aver: 
When all the world conspires to praise her, 
The woman 's deaf and does not hear. 



TO MR. JOHN MOORE 

AUTHOR OF THE CELEBRATED WORM- 
POWDER 

How much, egregious Moore I are we 
Deceiv'd by shows and forms! 
Whate'er we think, whate'er we see, 
All humankind are Worms. 

Man is a very Worm by birth. 
Vile reptile, weak, and vain! 
A while he crawls upon the earth, 
Then shrinks to earth again. 

That woman is a Worm we find, 
E'er since our Grandam's evil: 
She first convers'd with her own kind. 
That ancient Worm, the Devil. 

The learn'd themselves we Bookworms 

name, 
The blockhead is a Slowworm; 
The nymph whose tail is all on flame, 
Is aptly term'd a Glowworm. 

The fops are painted Butterflies, 
That flutter for a day; 
First from a Worm they take their rise. 
And in a Worm decay. 

The flatterer an Earwig grows; 

Thus worms suit all conditions; 

Misers are Muckworms ; Silkworms, beaux; 

And Deathwatches, physicians. 

That statesmen have the worm, is seen 
By all their winding play; 
Their conscience is a Worm within. 
That gnaws them night and day. 

Ah, Moore, thy skill were well employed, 
And greater gain would rise. 
If thou couldst make the courtier void 
The Worm that never dies! 

learned friend of Abchurch-Lane, 
Who sett'st our entrails free. 
Vain is thy Art, thy Powder vain, 
Since Worms shall eat ev'n thee. 



Our fate thou only canst adjourn 
Some few short years, no more! 
Ev'n Button's Wits to Worms shall turn, 
Who Maggots were before. 



THE CURLL MISCELLANIES 
UMBRA 

Though speculation has connected several 
other persons with this poem, it is proba- 
bly still another hit at the luckless Ambrose 
Philips. It, with the three following- poems, 
was first published in the Miscellanies, 1727. 

Close to the best known author Umbra 

sits, 
The constant index to old Button's Wits. 

* Who 's here ? ' cries Umbra. * Only 

Johnson.' — *0 ! 
Your slave,' and exit; but returns with 
Rowe. 

* Dear Rowe, let 's sit and talk of trage- 

dies : ' 
Ere long Pope enters, and to Pope he 

flies. 
Then up comes Steele: he turns upon his 

heel, 
And in a moment fastens upon Steele; 
But cries as soon, ' Dear Dick, I must be 

gone. 
For, if I know his tread, here 's Addison.' 
Says Addison to Steele, ' 'T is time to go : ' 
Pope to the closet steps aside with Rowe. 
Poor Umbra, left in this abandon'd pickle, 
Ev'n sits him down, and writes to honest 

Tickell. 
Fool! 'tis in vain from Wit to Wit to 

roam; 
Know, Sense, like Charity, ' begins at 

home.' 



BISHOP HOUGH 

A Bishop, by his neighbors hated. 

Has cause to wish himself translated; 

But why should Hough desire translation. 

Loved and esteem'd by all the nation ? 

Yet if it be the old man's case, 

I '11 lay my life I know the place : 

'T is where God sent some that adore 

him. 
And whither Enoch went before him. 



I20 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1718 AND 1727 



SANDYS' GHOST 

OR, A PROPER NEW BALLAD ON THE NEW 
OVID'S METAMORPHOSES : AS IT WAS 
INTENDED TO BE TRANSLATED BY 
PERSONS OF QUALITY 

This refers to the translation undertaken by 
Sir Samuel Garth, which aimed to complete 
Dryden's translation of Ovid, avoiding- the 
rig-idness of Sandys' method. The enterprise 
was begun in 1718, when these verses were 
probably written. 

Ye Lords and Commons, men of wit 

And pleasure about town. 
Read this, ere you translate one bit 

Of books of high renown. 

Beware of Latin authors, all, 
Nor think your verses sterling, 

Tho' with a golden pen you scrawl, 
And scribble in a Berlin. 

For not the desk with silver nails, 

Nor bureau of expense. 
Nor standish well japann'd, avails 

To writing of good sense. 

Hear how a Ghost in dead of night, 

With saucer eyes of fire, 
In woful wise did sore afiPright 

A Wit and courtly Squire: 

Rare imp of Phcebus, hopeful youth! 

Like pnppy tame, that uses 
To fetch and carry in his mouth 

The works of all the Muses. 

Ah! why did he write poetry, 

That hereto was so civil; 
And sell his soul for vanity 

To Rhyming and the Devil ? 

A desk he had of curious work. 

With glitt'ring studs about; 
Within the same did Sandys lurk, 

Tho' Ovid lay without. 

Now, as he scratch'd to fetch up thought, 
Forth popp'd the sprite so thin, 

And from the keyhole bolted out, 
All upright as a pin. 

With whiskers, band, and pantaloon, 
And ruff composed most duly. 



This Squire he dropp'd his pen full soon, 
While as the light burnt bluely. 

Ho! master Sam, quoth Sandys' sprite. 
Write on, nor let me scare ye! 

Forsooth, if rhymes fall not in right, 
To Budgell seek or Carey. 

I hear the beat of Jacob's drums, . 

Poor Ovid finds no quarter! 
See first the merry P[embroke] comes 

In haste without his garter. 

Then Lords and Lordlings, Squires and 
Knights, 

Wits, Witlings, Prigs, and Peers: 
Garth at St. James's, and at White's, 

Beats up for volunteers. 

What Fenton will not do, nor Gay, 
Nor Congreve, Rowe, nor Stanyan, 

Tom B[urne]t, or Tom D'Urfey may, 
John Dunton, Steele, or any one. 

If Justice Philips' costive head 
Some frigid rhymes disburses, 

They shall like Persian tales be read. 
And glad both babes and nurses. 

Let W[a]rw[ic]k's Muse with Ash[urs]t 
join. 

And Ozell's with Lord Hervey's, 
Tickell and Addison combine. 

And P[o]pe translate with Jervas. 

L[ansdowne] himself, that lively lord. 

Who bows to every lady. 
Shall join with F[rowde] in one accord. 

And be like Tate and Brady. 

Ye ladies, too, draw forth your pen; 

I pray, where can the hurt lie ? 
Since you have brains as well as men. 

As witness Lady Wortley. 

Now, Tonson, list thy forces all. 

Review them and tell noses; 
For to poor Ovid shall befall 

A strange metamorphosis; 



A metamorphosis more strange 
Than all his books can vapour — 

* To what (quoth 'Squire) shall 
change ? ' 
Quoth Sandys, * To waste paper.' 



Ovid 



POEMS SUGGESTED BY GULLIVER 



121 



EPITAPH 

Imitated from a Latin couplet on Joannes 
Mirandula : — 

Joannes jacet hie Mirandula: csetera norunt 
El Tagus et Ganges — forsan et Antipodes. 

First applied by Pope to Francis Chartres, 
but published in this form in 1727. 

Here lies Lord Coningsby — be civil! 
The rest God knows — perhaps the Devil. 



THE THREE GENTLE SHEP- 
HERDS 

Of gentle Philips will I ever sing, 
With gentle Philips shall the valleys ring. 
My numbers too for ever will I vary, 
With gentle Budgell, and with gentle Carey. 
Or if in ranging of the names I judge ill. 
With gentle Carey and with gentle Budgell. 
Oh! may all gentle bards together place ye. 
Men of good hearts, and men of delicacy. 
May Satire ne'er befool ye or beknave ye, 
And from all Wits that have a knack, God 
save ye! 



ON THE COUNTESS OF BUR- 
LINGTOIM CUTTING PAPER 

Pallas grew vapourish once and odd ; 

She would not do the least right thing, 
Either for Goddess or for God, 

Nor work, nor play, nor paint, nor sing. 

Jove frown'd, and * Use (he cried) those 
eyes 

So skilful, and those hands so taper; 
Do something exquisite and wise — ' 

She bow'd, obey'd him, and cut paper. 

This vexing him who gave her birth. 

Thought by all Heav'n a burning shame, 

What does she next, but bids, on earth, 
Her Burlington do just the same. 

Pallas, you give yourself strange airs; 

But sure you '11 find it hard to spoil 
The Sense and Taste of one that bears 

The name of Saville and of Boyle. 

Alas! one bad example shown, 

How quickly all the sex pursue! 
See, madam, see the arts o'erthrown 
. Between John Overton a,nd you! 



EPIGRAM 

AN EMPTY HOUSE 

You beat your Pate, and fancy Wit will 

come: 
Knock as you please, there 's nobody at 

home. 



POEMS SUGGESTED BY 
GULLIVER 

ODE TO QUINBUS FLESTRIN 

THE MAN MOUNTAIN, BY TITTY TIT, POET 
LAUREATE TO HIS MAJESTY OF LILLI- 
PUT. TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH 

This * Ode ' and the three following' poems, 
were written by Pope after reading Gulliver^s 
Travels, and first published in the Miscellanies 
of Pope and Swift, in 1727. 

In amaze 
Lost I gaze! 
Can our eyes 
Reach thy size! 
May my lays 
Swell with praise, 
Worthy thee! 
Worthy me! 
Muse, inspire 
All thy fire! 
Bards of old 
Of him told. 
When they said 
Atlas' head 
Propp'd the skies: 
See! and believe your eyes! 
See him stride 
Valleys wide, 
Over woods, 
Over floods! 
When he treads, 
Mountains' heads 
Groan and shake, 
Armies quake; 
Lest his spurn 
Overturn 
Man and steed: 
Troops, take heed! 
Left and right, 
Speed your flight! 
Lest an host 



122 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1718 AND 1727 



Beneath his foot be lost; 

Turn'd aside 

From his hide 

Safe from wound, 

Darts rebound. 

From his nose 

Clouds he blows! 

When he speaks, 

Thunder breaks! 

When he eats, 

Famine threats! 

When he drinks, 

Neptune shrinks! 

Nigh thy ear 

In mid air, 

On thy hand 

Let me stand; 

So shall I, 
Lofty poet! touch the sky. 



THE LAMENTATION OF GLUM- 
DALCLITCH FOR THE LOSS 
OF GRILDRIG 

A PASTORAL 

Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing 

care. 
She wept, she blubber'd, and she tore her 

hair; 
No British miss sincerer grief has known, 
Her squirrel missing, or her sparrow flown. 
She furl'd her sampler, and haul'd in her 

thread. 
And stuck her needle into Grildrig's bed; 
Then spread her hands, and with a botmce 

let fall 
Her baby, like the giant in Guildhall. 
In peals of thunder now she roars, and 

now 
She gently whimpers like a lowing cow: lo 
Yet lovely in her sorrow still appears: 
Her locks dishevell'd, and her flood of tears, 
Seem like the lofty barn of some rich swain, 
When from the thatch drips fast a shower 

of rain. 
In vain she search' d each cranny of the 

house. 
Each gaping chink, impervious to a mouse. 
' Was it for this (she cried) with daily care 
Within thy reach I set the vinegar. 
And fill'd the cruet with the acid tide. 
While pepper-water worms thy bait sup- 
plied ? 20 



Where twined the silver eel around thy 

hook. 
And all the little monsters of the brook! 
Sure in that lake he dropt; my Grilly's 

drown'd! ' 
She dragg'd the cruet, but no Grildrig 

found. 
'Vain is thy courage, Grilly, vain thy 

boast! 
But little creatures enterprise the most. 
Trembling I 've seen thee dare the kitten's 

paw. 
Nay, mix with children, as they play'd at 

taw. 
Nor fear the marbles as they bounding flew; 
Marbles to them, but rolling rocks to you! 30 
' Why did I trust thee with that giddy 

youth ? 
Who from a page can ever learn the truth ? 
Versed in court tricks, that money-loving 

boy 
To some lord's daughter sold the living 

toy; 
Or rent him limb from limb in cruel play, 
As children tear the wings of flies away. 
From place to place o'er Brobdingnag I '11 

roam. 
And never will return, or bring thee home. 
But who hath eyes to trace the passing 

wind ? 
How then thy fairy footsteps can I find ? 40 
Dost thou bewilder'd wander all alone 
In the green thicket of a mossy stone; 
Or, tumbled from the toadstool's slipp'ry 

round. 
Perhaps, all maim'd, lie grovelling on the 

ground 
Dost thou, embosom'd in the lovely rose, 
Or, sunk within the peach's down repose ? 
Within the kingcup if thy limbs are spread. 
Or in the golden cowslip's velvet head, 
O show me. Flora, midst those sweets, the 

flower 
Where sleeps my Grildrig in the fragrant 

bower. 50 

• But ah ! I fear thy little fancy roves 
On little females, and on little loves; 
Thy pigmy children, and thy tiny spouse. 
The baby playthings that adorn thy house, 
Doors, windows, chimneys, and the spacious 

rooms. 
Equal in size to cells of honeycombs. 
Hast thou for these now ventured from the 

shore. 
Thy bark a bean shell, and a straw thy oar ? 



POEMS SUGGESTED BY GULLIVER 



123 



Or in thy box now bounding on the main, 
Shall I ne'er bear thyself and house again ? 
And shall I set thee on my hand no more, 61 
To see thee leap the lines, and traverse o'er 
My spacious palm; of stature scarce a span, 
Mimic the actions of a real man ? 
No more behold thee turn my watch's key, 
As seamen at a capstan anchors weigh ? 
How wert thou wont to walk with cautious 

tread, 
A dish of tea, like milkpail, on thy head! 
How chase the mite that bore thy cheese 

away. 
And keep the rolling maggot at a bay ! ' 70 
She spoke; but broken accents stopp'd 

her voice, 
Soft as the speaking - trumpet's mellow 

noise : 
She sobb'd a storm, and wiped her flowing 

eyes, 
Which seem'd like two broad suns in misty 

skies. 
O squander not thy grief! those tears com- 
mand 
To weep upon our cod in Newfoundland; 
The plenteous pickle shall preserve the fish. 
And Europe taste thy sorrows in a dish. 



TO MR. LEMUEL GULLIVER 

THE GRATEFUL ADDRESS OF THE UN- 
HAPPY HOUYHNHNMS NOW IN SLAVERY 
AND BONDAGE IN ENGLAND 

To thee, we wretches of the Houyhnhnm 
band. 

Condemn' d to labour in a barb'rous land. 

Return our thanks. Accept our humble 
lays. 

And let each grateful Houyhnhnm neigh 
thy praise. 
O happy Yahoo, purged from human 
crimes. 

By thy sweet sojourn in those virtuous 
climes, 

Where reign our sires; there, to thy coun- 
try's shame, 

Reason, you found, and Virtue were the 
same. 

Their precepts razed the prejudice of youth. 

And ev'n a Yahoo learn'd the love of 
Truth. 10 

Art thou the first who did the coast ex- 
plore ? 



Did never Yahoo tread that ground before ? 
Yes, thousands! But in pity to their kind, 
Or sway'd by envy, or thro' pride of mind, 
They hid their knowledge of a nobler race. 
Which own'd, would all their sires and sons 

disgrace. 
You, like the Samian, visit lands un- 
known, 
And by their wiser morals mend your own. 
Thus Orpheus travell'd to reform his kind, 
Came back, and tamed the brutes he left 

behind. 20 

You went, you saw, you heard: with 

virtue fought. 
Then spread those morals which the Houy- 

hnhnms taught. 
Our labours here must touch thy gen'rous 

heart, 
To see us strain before the coach and 

cart; 
Compell'd to run each knavish jockey's 

heat! 
Subservient to Newmarket's annual cheat! 
With what reluctance do we lawyers bear. 
To fleece their country clients twice a year! 
Or managed in your schools, for fops to 

ride. 
How foam, how fret beneath a load of 

pride! 30 

Yes, we are slaves — but yet, by reason's 

force. 
Have learn'd to bear misfortune like a 

horse. 
O would the stars, to ease my bonds 

ordain 
That gentle Gulliver might guide my rein! 
Safe would I bear him to his journey's end. 
For 't is a pleasure to support a friend. 
But if my life be doom'd to serve the bad. 
Oh! mayst thou never want an easy pad! 

Houyhnhnm 



MARY GULLIVER TO CAPTAIN 
LEMUEL GULLIVER 

AN EPISTLE 
ARGUMENT 

The captain, some time after his return, 
being- retired to Mr. Sympson's in the country, 
Mrs. Gulliver, apprehending from his late be- 
haviour some estrang-ement of his affections, 
writes him the following expostulatory, sooth- 
ing, and tenderly complaining epistle. 



124 



POEMS WRITTEN BETWEEN 1718 AND 1727 



Welcome, thrice welcome to thy native 

place! 
What, touch me not ? what, shun a wife's 

embrace ? 
Have I for this thy tedious absence borne, 
And waked, and wish'd whole nights for 

thy return ? 
In five long years I took no second spouse; 
What Redriff wife so long hath kept her 

vows ? 
Your eyes, your nose, inconstancy betray ; 
Your nose you stop, your eyes you turn 

away. 
'T is said, that thou shouldst ' cleave unto 

thy wife ; ' 
Once thou didst cleave, and I could cleave 

for life. 10 

Hear, and relent ! hark how thy children 

moan! 
Be kind at least to these; they are thy 

own: 
Behold, and count them all; secure to find 
The honest number that you left behind. 
See how they bat thee with their pretty 

paws: 
Why start you ? are they snakes ? or have 

they claws ? 
Thy Christian seed, our mutual flesh and 

bone : 
Be kind at least to these; they are thy 

own. 
Biddel, like thee, might farthest India 

rove; 
He changed his country, but retain'd his 

love. 20 

There 's Captain Pannel, absent half his 

life, 
Comes back, and is the kinder to his wife; 
Yet Pannel's wife is brown compared to 

me. 
And Mrs. Biddel sure is fifty-three. 

Not touch me! never neighbour call'd 

me slut! 
Was Flimnap's dame more sweet in Lilli- 

put? 
I 've no red hair to breathe an odious 

fume; 
At least thy Consort 's cleaner than thy 

Groom. 
Why then that dirty stable-boy thy care ? 
What mean those visits to the Sorrel 

Mare ? 30 

Say, by what witchcraft, or what demon 

led, 
Pref err'st thou litter to the marriage-bed ? 



Some say the Devil himself is in that 

mare: 
If so, our Dean shall drive him forth by 

prayer. 
Some think you mad, some think you are 

possess'd, 
That Bedlam and clean straw will suit you 

best. 
Vain means, alas, this frenzy to appease! 
That straw, that straw would heighten the 

disease. 
My bed (the scene of all our former joys, 
Witness two lovely girls, two lovely boys) 
Alone I press: in dreams I call my dear, 41 
I stretch my hand; no Gulliver is there ! 
I wake, I rise, and shiv'ring with the frost 
Search all the house; my Gulliver is lost! 
Forth in the street I rush with frautic cries; 
The windows open, all the neighbours rise: 
' Where sleeps my Gulliver ? O tell me 

where.' 
The neighbours answer, ' With the Sorrel 

Mare.' 
At early morn I to the market haste 
(Studious in every thing to please thy 

taste) ; 50 

A curious fowl and 'sparagus I chose 
(For I remember'd you were fond of those) ; 
Three shillings cost the first, the last seven 

groats ; 
Sullen you turn from both, and call for oats. 
Others bring goods and treasure to their 

houses. 
Something to deck their pretty babes and 

spouses: 
My only token was a cup like horn. 
That 's made of nothing but a lady's corn. 
'T is not for that I grieve ; O, 't is to see 
The Groom and Sorrel Mare preferr'd to 

me! 60 

These, for some moments when you deign 

to quit. 
And at due distance sweet discourse ad- 
mit, 
'T is all my pleasure thy past toil to know; 
For pleas'd remembrance builds delight on 

woe. 
At ev'ry danger pants thy consort's breast. 
And gaping infants squall to hear the rest. 
How did I tremble, when by thousands 

bound, 
I saw thee stretch'd on Lilliputian ground! 
When scaling armies climb'd up every 

part. 
Each step they trod I felt upon my heart. 



PROLOGUE 



125 



But when thy torrent quench'd the dreadful 

blaze, 71 

King, Queen, and Nation staring with 

amaze, 
Full in my view how all my husband came; 
And what extinguish'd theirs increas'd my 

flame. 
Those spectacles, ordain'd thine eyes to 

save. 
Were once my present; lOve that armour 

gave. 
How did I mourn at Bolgolam's decree! 
For when he sigu'd thy death, he sentenc'd 

me. 
When folks might see thee all the coun- 
try round 
For sixpence, I'd have giv'n a thousand 

pound. 80 

Lord! when the giant babe that head of 

thine 
Got in his mouth, my heart was up in mine! 
When in the marrow bone I see thee 

ramm'd. 
Or on the housetop by the monkey 

cramm'd. 
The piteous images renew my pain. 
And all thy dangers I weep o'er again. 
But on the maiden's nipple when you rid, 
Pray Heav'n, 't was all a wanton maiden 

did! 
Glumdalclitch, too! with thee I mourn her 

case, 
Heaven guard the gentle girl from all dis- 



grace! 



90 



may the king that one neglect for- 

give. 
And pardon her the fault by which I live! 
Was there no other way to set him free ? 
My life, alas! I fear prov'd death to 

thee. 
O teach me, dear, new words to speak 

my flame; 
Teach me to woo thee by thy best lov'd 

name ! 
Whether the style of Grildrig please thee 

most, 
So call'd on Brobdingnag's stupendous 

coast, 
When on the monarch's ample hand you 

sate, 99 

And halloo'd in his ear intrigues of state; 
Or Quinbus Flestrin more endearment 

brings. 
When like a mountain you look'd down on 

kings: 
If ducal Nardac, Lilliputian peer. 
Or Glumglum's humbler title soothe thy 

ear: 
Nay, would kind Jove my organs so dis- 
pose, 
To hymn harmonious Houyhnhnm thro' 

the nose, 

1 'd call thee Houyhnhnm, that high sound- 

ing name 
Thy children's noses all should twang the 

same; 
So might I find my loving spouse of course 
Endued with all the virtues of a horse, no 



LATER POEMS 



ON CERTAIN LADIES 

When other fair ones to the shades go 
down. 

Still Chloe, Flavia, Delia, stay in town: 

Those ghosts of beauty wand'ring here re- 
side, 

And haunt the places where their honour 
died. 

CELIA 

Celia, we know, is sixty-five, 
Yet Celia's face is seventeen; 

Thus winter in her breast must live, 
While summer in her face is seen. 



How cruel Celia's fate, who hence 
Our heart's devotion cannot try; 

Too pretty for our reverence. 
Too ancient for our gallantry! 



PROLOGUE 

TO A PLAY FOR MR. DENNIS'S BENEFIT, 
IN 1733, WHEN HE WAS OLD, BLIND, 
AND IN GREAT DISTRESS, A LITTLE 
BEFORE HIS DEATH 

As when that hero, who in each campaign 
Had braved the Goth, and many a Vandal 
slain, 



126 



LATER POEMS 



Lay fortune-struck, a spectacle of woe, 
Wept by each friend, forgiv'n by ev'ry 

foe; 
Was there a gen'rous, a reflecting mind, 
But pitied Belisarius old and blind ? 
Was there a chief but melted at the sight ? 
A common soldier but who clubb'd his 

mite? 
Such, such emotions should in Britons rise, 
When, press'd by want and weakness, Den- 
nis lies; 
Dennis! who long had warr'd with modern 

Huns, 
Their quibbles routed, a^id defied their 

puns; 
A desp'rate bulwark, sturdy, firm, and 

fierce. 
Against the Gothic sons of frozen verse. 
How changed from him who made the 

boxes groan. 
And shook the stage with thunders all his 

own! 
Stood up to dash each vain pretender's 

hope. 
Maul the French tyrant, or pull down the 

Pope! 
If there 's a Briton, then, true bred and 

born. 
Who holds dragoons and wooden shoes in 

scorn ; 
If there 's a critic of distinguish'd rage ; 
If there 's a senior who contemns this age; 
Let him to-night his just assistance lend, 
And be the Critic's, Briton's, old man's 

friend. 



SONG, BY A PERSON OF 
QUALITY 

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1 733 

The public astonished Pope by taking this 
burlesque seriously, and praising it as poetry. 



Flutt'ring spread thy purple Pinions, 
Gentle Cupid, o'er my Heart; 

I a Slave in thy Dominions; 
Nature must give Way to Art. 

II 

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming, ' 
Nightly nodding o'er your Flocks, 

See my weary Days consuming. 
All beneath yon flow'ry Rocks. 



Ill 



Thus the Cyprian Goddess weeping, 
Mourn'd -4 (/oni5, darling Youth: 

Him the Boar in Silence creeping. 
Gored with unrelenting Tooth. 



IV 



Cynthia, tune harmonious Numbers; 

Fair Discretion, string the Lyre; 
Soothe my ever- waking Slumbers: 

Bright Apollo, lend thy Choir. 



Gloomy Pluto, King of Terrors, 
Arm'd in adamantine Chains, 

Lead me to the Crystal Mirrors, 
Wat'ring soft Elysian Plains. 

VI 

Mournful Cypress, verdant Willow, 
Gilding my Aurelid's Brows, 

Morpheus hov'ring o'er my Pillow, 
Hear me pay my dying Vows. 

VII 

Melancholy smooth Mceander^ 
Swiftly purling in a Round, 

On thy Margin Lovers wander. 

With thy flow'ry Chaplets crown'd. 

VIII 

Thus when Philomela drooping. 
Softly seeks her silent Mate, 

See the Bird of Juno stooping; 
Melody resigns to Fate. 



VERSES LEFT BY MR. POPE 

ON HIS LYING IN THE SAME BED WHICH 
WILMOT, THE CELEBRATED EARL OF 
ROCHESTER, SLEPT IN AT ADDERBURY, 
THEN BELONGING TO THE DUKE OF 
ARGYLE, JULY QTH, 1 739 

With no poetic ardour fired 

I press the bed where Wilmot lay; 

That here he lov'd, or here expired, 
Begets no numbers grave or gay. 

Beneath thy roof, Argyle, are bred 

Such thoughts as prompt the brave to 
lie 

Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed, 
Beneath a nobler roof — the sky. 



ON BEAUFORT HOUSE GATE AT CHISWICK 



127 



Such flames as high in patriots burn, 
Yet stoop to bless a child or wife; 

And such as wicked kings may mourn, 
When Freedom is more dear than Life. 



ON HIS GROTTO AT TWICKEN- 
HAM 

COMPOSED OF MARBLES, SPARS, GEMS, 
ORES, AND MINERALS 

These lines were enclosed in a letter to Bo- 
lingbroke, dated September 3, 1740. 

Thou who shalt stop where Thames' 

translucent wave 
Shines a broad mirror thro' the shadowy 

cave; 
Where ling'ring drops from min'ral roofs 

distil, 
And pointed crystals break the sparkling 

rill; 
Unpolish'd gems no ray on pride bestow, 
And latent metals innocently glow; 
Approach. Great Nature studiously be- 
hold! 
And eye the mine without a wish for gold. 
Approach; but awful! lo! the ^gerian grot. 
Where, nobly pensive, St. John sate and 

thought; 
Where British sighs from dying Wyndham 

stole, 
And the bright flame was shot thro' March- 

mont's soul. 
Let such, such only, tread this sacred floor. 
Who dare to love their country, and be 

poor. 



ON RECEIVING FROM THE 
RIGHT HON. THE LADY FRAN- 
CES SHIRLEY A STANDISH 
AND TWO PENS 

Lady Frances Shirley was daughter of Earl 
Ferrers, a neighbor of Pope's at Twickenham. 

Yes, I beheld th' Athenian Queen 
Descend in all her sober charms; 

' And take ' (she said, and smiled serene), 
' Take at this hand celestial arms : 

' Secure the radiant weapons wield ; 
This golden lance shall guard Desert, 



And if a Vice dares keep the field, 
This steel shall stab it to the heart.* 

Awed, on my bended knees I fell, 
Received the weapons of the sky; 10 

And dipt them in the sable well. 
The fount of Fame or Infamy. 

* What well ? what weapons ? ' (Flavia 
cries,) 

' A standish, steel and golden pen! 
It came from Bertrand's, not the skies; 

I gave it you to write again. 

' But, Friend, take heed whom you at- 
tack; 
You '11 bring a House (I mean of Peers) 
Red, blue, and green, nay white and 
black, 
L[ambeth] and all about your ears. 

^ * You 'd write as smooth again on glass, 
And run, on ivory, so glib, 
As not to stick at Fool or Ass, 
Nor stop at Flattery or Fib. 

' Athenian Queen ! and sober charms ! 

I tell ye, fool, there 's nothing in 't: 
'Tis Venus, Venus gives these arms; 

In Dryden's Virgil see the print. 

' Come, if you '11 be a quiet soul. 

That dares tell neither Truth nor Lies, 

I '11 lift you in the harmless roll 

Of those that sing of these poor eyes.' 



ON BEAUFORT HOUSE GATE 
AT CHISWICK 

The Lord Treasurer Middlesex's house at 
Chelsea, after passing to the Duke of Beaufort, 
was called Beaufort House. It was afterwards 
sold to Sir Hans Sloane. When the house was 
taken down in 1740, its gateway, built by Inigo 
Jones, was given by Sir Hans Sloane to the 
Earl of Burlington, who removed it with the 
greatest care to his garden at Chiswick, where 
it may be still seen. (Ward.) 

I WAS brought from Chelsea last year, 
Batter'd with wind and weather; 
Inigo Jones put me together; 

Sir Hans Sloane let me alone; 
Burlington brought me hither. 



128 



LATER POEMS 



TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERN 

ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 1 742 

Southern was invited to dine on his birthday 
with Lord Orrery, who had prepared the enter- 
tainment, of which the bill of fare is here set 
down. 

Resign'd to live, prepared to die, 

With not one sin but poetry, 

This day Tom's fair account has run 

(Without a blot) to eighty-one. 

Kind Boyle before his poet lays 

A table with a cloth of bays; 

And Ireland, mother of sweet singers, 

Presents her harp still to bis fingers. 

The feast, his tow'ring Genius marks 

In yonder wild goose and the larks ! 

The mushrooms show his Wit was sudden ! 

And for his Judgment, lo, a pudden ! 

Roast beef, tho' old, proclaims him stout, 

And grace, although a bard, devout. 

May Tom, whom Heav'n sent down to 

raise 
The price of Prologues and of Plays, 
Be ev'ry birthday more a winner. 
Digest his thirty-thousandth dinner. 
Walk to his grave without reproach, 
And scorn a Rascal and a Coach. 



EPIGRAM 

My Lord complains that Pope, stark mad 

with gardens, 
Has cut three trees, the value of three 

farthings. 

* But he 's my neighbour,' cries the Peer 

polite: 

* And if he visit me, I '11 waive the right.' 
What ! on compulsion, and against my will, 
A lord's acquaintance ? Let him file his 

bill! 

EPIGRAM 

Explained by Carruthers to refer to the large 
sums of money given in charity on account of 
the severity of the weather about the year 
1740. 

Yes ! 't is the time (I cried), impose the 
chain, 
Destin'd and due to wretches self-en- 
slaved j 



But when I saw such charity remain, 
I half could wish this people should be 
saved. 

Faith lost, and Hope, our Charity begins; 

And 't is a wise design in pitying Heav'n, 
If this can cover multitude of sins. 

To take the only way to be forgiv'n. 

1740: A POEM 

* I shall here,' says Dr. Warton, ' present 
the reader with a valuable literary curiosity, a 
Fragment of an unpublished Satire of Pope, 
entitled, One Thousand Seven Hundred and 
Forty ; communicated to me by the kindness 
of the learned and worthy Dr. Wilson, formerly 
fellow and librarian of Trinity College, Dublin ; 
who speaks of the Fragment in the following 
terms : — 

' " This poem I transcribed from a rough 
draft in Pope's own hand. He left many blanks 
for fear of the Argus eye of those who, if they 
cannot find, can fabricate treason ; yet, spite 
of his precaution, it fell into the hands of his 
enemies. To the hieroglyphics there are direct 
allusions, I think, in some of the notes on the 
Dunciad. It was lent me by a grandson of 
Lord Chetwynd, an intimate friend of the 
famous Lord Bolingbroke, who gratified his 
curiosity by a boxful of the rubbish and sweep- 
ings of Pope's study, whose executor he was, 
in conjunction with Lord Marchmont." ' 

O WRETCHED B[ritain], jealous now of all. 
What God, what Mortal shall prevent thy 

fall ? 
Turn, turn thy eyes from wicked men in 

place. 
And see what succour from the patriot race. 
C[ampbell], his own proud dupe, thinks 

Monarchs things 
Made just for him, as other fools for Kings; 
Controls, decides, insults thee ev'ry hour. 
And antedates the hatred due to power. 
Thro' clouds of passion P[ulteney]'s 

views are clear; 
He foams a Patriot to subside a Peer; 10 
Impatient sees his country bought and sold. 
And damns the market where he takes no 

gold. 
Grave, righteous S[andys] jogs on till, 

past belief, 
He finds himself companion with a thief. 
To purge and let thee blood with fire and 

sword 
Is all the help stern S[hippen] would afford. 



1740 : A POEM 



129 



That those who bind and rob thee would 

not kill, 

Good C[ornbur3'^] hopes, and candidly sits 

still. 

Of Ch[arle]s W[illiams] who speaks at 

all ? 19 

No more than of Sir Har[r]y or Sir P[aul] : 

Whose names once up, they thought it was 

not wrong 
To lie in bed, but sure they lay too long. 
G[owe]r, C[obha]m, B[athurs]t, pay thee 
due regards. 
Unless the ladies bid them mind their 
cards. 

with wit that must 
And C[hesterfieljd who speaks so well and 

writes, 
Whom (saving W.) every S [harper bites,] 

must needs 

Whose wit and . . . equally provoke one. 

Finds thee, at best, the butt to crack his 
joke on. 
As for the rest, each winter up they 
run, 

And all are clear, that something must be 
done. 30 

Then urged by C[artere]t, or by C[artere]t 
stopp'd. 

Inflamed by P[ultene]y, and by P[ultene]y 
dropp'd; 

They follow rev'rently each wondrous 
wight. 

Amazed that one can read, that one can 
write 

(So geese to gander prone obedience keep, 

Hiss if he hiss, and if he slumber, sleep) ; 

Till having done whate'er was fit or fine, 

Utter'd a speech, and ask'd their friends 
to dine. 

Each hurries back to his paternal ground. 

Content but for five shillings in the pound, 40 

Yearly defeated, yearly hopes they give. 

And all agree Sir Robert cannot live. 
Rise, rise, great W[alpole], fated to ap- 
pear. 

Spite of thyself a glorious minister f 

Speak the loud language princes . . . 

And treat with half the . . . 

At length to B[ritain] kind, as to thy . . . 

Espouse the nation, you . . . 
What can thy H[orace] . . . 

Dress in Dutch ... 50 

Though still he travels on no bad pre- 
tence, 

To show ... 



Or those foul copies of thy face and 

tongue, 
Veracious W[innington] and frontless 

Yonge ; 
Sagacious Bub, so late a friend, and there 
So late a foe, yet more sagacious H[are] ? 
Hervey and Hervey's school, F[ox], H[en- 

le]y, H[into]n, 
Yea, moral Ebor, or religious Winton. 
How ! what can 0[uslo]w, what can D[ela- 

ware], 
The wisdom of the one and other chair, 60 
N[ewcastle] laugh, or D[orset]'s sager 

[sneer], 
Or thy dread truncheon M[arlboro]'s 

mighty Peer ? 
What help from J[ekyl]l's opiates canst 

thou draw 
Or H[ardwic]k's quibbles voted into law? 
C[ummins], that Roman in his nose alone. 
Who hears all causes, B[ritain], but thy 

own. 
Or those proud fools whom nature, rank, 

and fate 
Made fit companions for the sword of state. 
Can the light Packhorse, or the heavy 

Steer, 69 

The sowzing Prelate, or the sweating Peer, 
Drag out with all its dirt and all its 

weight, 
The lumb'ring carriage of thy broken 

state ? 
Alas! the people curse, the carman swears. 
The drivers quarrel, and the master stares. 
The plague is on thee, Britain, and who 

tries 
To save thee, in th' infectious office dies. 
The first firm P[ultene]y soon resign'd his 

breath, 
Brave S[carboro] loved thee, and was lied 

to death. 
Good M[arch]m[on]t's fate tore P[olwar]th 

from thy side, 
And thy last sigh was heard when W[ynd- 

ha]m died. 80 

Thy nobles sl[ave]s, thy se[nate]s bought 

with gold. 
Thy clergy perjured, thy whole people 

sold. 

An atheist W, a 0""s ad 

Blotch thee all o'er, and sink 

Alas! on one alone our all relies. 
Let him be honest, and he must be wise. 
Let him no trifler from his school. 

Nor like bis still a. . . . 



130 



POEMS OF UNCERTAIN DATE 



Be but a man! unminister'd, alone, 
And free at once the Senate and the 
Throne; 90 

Esteem the public love his best supply, 
A ©'s true glory his integrity; 
Rich with his in his strong, 



Affect no conquest, but endure no wrong. 
Whatever his religion or his blood, 
His public Virtue makes his title good. 
Europe's just balance and our own may 

stand, 
And one man's honesty redeem the land. 



POEMS OF UNCERTAIN DATE 



TO ERINNA 

Tho' sprightly Sappho force our love and 

praise, 
A softer wonder my pleas'd soul surveys, 
The mild Erinna, blushing in her bays. 
So, while the sun's broad beam yet strikes 

the sight, 
All mild appears the moon's more sober 

Serene, in virgin majesty she shines. 
And, unobserv'd, the glaring sun declines. 



LINES WRITTEN IN WINDSOR 
FOREST 

Sent in an undated letter to Martha Blount. 

All hail, once pleasing, once inspiring shade, 
Scene of my youthful loves, and happier 
hours! 
Where the kind Muses met me as I stray 'd. 
And gently press'd my hand, and said, 
* Be ours.' 
Take all thou e'er shalt have, a constant 
Muse: 
At Court thou mayst be liked, but nothing 
gain : 
Stocks thou mayst buy and sell, but always 
lose; 
And love the brightest eyes, but love in 
vain. 



VERBATIM FROM BOILEAU 

FIRST PUBLISHED BY WARBURTON IN 
I75I 

Un jour, dit un auteur, etc. 

Once (says an author, where I need not say) 
Two travellers found an Oyster in their way: 



Both fierce, both hungry, the dispute grew 

strong, 
While, scale in hand, dame Justice pass'd 

along. 
Before her each with clamour pleads the 

laws, 
Explain'd the matter, and would win the 

cause. 
Dame Justice weighing long the doubtful 

right. 
Takes, opens, swallows it before their 

sight. 
The cause of strife remov'd so rarely well, 
' There take (says Justice), take ye each a 

shell. 
We thrive at Westminster on fools like 

you: 
'T was a fat Oyster — Live in peace — 

Adieu.' 



LINES ON SWIFT'S ANCESTORS 

Swift set up a plain monument to his grand- 
father, and also presented a cup to the church 
of Goodrich, or Gotheridge (in Herefordshire). 
He sent a pencilled elevation of the monument 
(a simple tablet) to Mrs. Howard, who returned 
it with the following lines, inscribed on the 
drawing by Pope. The paper is endorsed, in 
Swift's hand : ' Model of a monument for my 
grandfather, with Pope's roguery.' (Scott's 
Life of Swift.) 

Jonathan Swift 

Had the gift, 

By fatherige, motherige, 

And by brotherige 

To come from Gotherige, 

But now is spoil'd clean, 

And an Irish dean; 

In this church he has put 
A stone of two foot, 



FROM THE GRUB-STREET JOURNAL 



131 



With a cup and a can, sir, 
In respect to his grandsire; 
So, Ireland, change thy tone, 
And cry, hone! O hone! 
For England hath its own. 



ON SEEING THE LADIES AT 
CRUX EASTON WALK IN THE 
WOODS BY THE GROTTO 

EXTEMPORE BY MR. POPE 

Authors the world and their dull brains 

have traced 
To fix the ground where Paradise was 

placed; 
Mind not their learned whims and idle 

talk; 
Here, here 's the place where these bright 

angels walk, 

INSCRIPTION ON A GROTTO, 
THE WORK OF NINE LADIES 

Here, shunning idleness at once and praise, 
This radiant pile nine rural sisters raise; 
The glitt'ring emblem of each spotless 

dame, 
Clear as her soul and shining as her frame; 



Beauty which Nature only can impart. 

And such a polish as disgraces Art; 

But Fate disposed them in this humble 

sort, 
And hid in deserts what would charm a 

Court. 



TO THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL 
OF OXFORD 

UPON A PIECE- OF NEWS IN MIST [MIST'S 
journal] that the rev. MR. W. RE- 
FUSED TO WRITE AGAINST MR. POPE 
BECAUSE HIS ' BEST PATRON HAD A 
FRIENDSHIP FOR THE SAID POPE 

Wesley, if Wesley 't is they mean. 
They say on Pope would fall, 

Would his best Patron let his Pen 
Discharge his inward gall. 

What Patron this, a doubt must be, 
Which none but you can clear, 

Or father Francis, 'cross the sea. 
Or else Earl Edward here. 

That both were good must be confess'd, 

And much to both he owes; 
But which to him will be the best 

The Lord of Oxford knowSo 



EPIGRAMS AND EPITAPHS 



ON A PICTURE OF QUEEN 
CAROLINE 

DRAWN BY LADY BURLINGTON 

It is not known who the Bishop was. The 
' lying Dean ' refers to Dr. Alured Clarke, who 
preached a fulsome sermon upon the Queen's 
death. 

Peace, flatt'ring Bishop! lying Dean! 
This portrait only paints the Queen! 



EPIGRAM ENGRAVED ON THE 
COLLAR OF A DOG WHICH I 
GAVE TO HIS ROYAL HIGH- 
NESS 

* His Highness ' was Frederick, Prince of 
Wales. 



I AM his Highness' dog at Kew; 
Pray tell me. Sir, whose dog are you ? 

LINES WRITTEN IN EVELYN'S 
BOOK ON COINS 

First printed in the Gentleman's Magazine 
in 1735. 

ToM Wood of Chiswick, deep divine, 
To Painter Kent gave all this coin. 
'T is the first coin, I 'm bold to say, 
That ever churchman gave to lay. 

FROM THE GRUB-STREET 
JOURNAL 

This Journal was established in January, 
1730, and carried on for eight years by Pope 



132 



EPIGRAMS AND EPITAPHS 



and his friends, in answer to the attacks pro- 
voked by the Dunciad. It corresponds in some 
measure to the Xenien of Goethe and Schiller. 
Only such pieces are here inserted as bear 
Pope's distinguishing signature A. ; several 
others are probably his. (Ward.) 



EPIGRAM 

Occasioned by seeing some sheets of Dr. 
Bentley's edition of Milton's Paradise Lost. 

Did Milton's prose, O Charles, thy death 

defend ? 
A furious Foe unconscious proves a Friend. 
On Milton's verse does Bentley comment ? 

— Know 
A weak officious Friend becomes a Foe. 
While he but sought his Author's fame to 

further. 
The murd'rous critic has avenged thy 

murder. 



II 



EPIGRAM 

Should D[enni]s print, how once you 

robb'd your brother, 
Traduced your monarch, and debauch'd 

your mother; 
Say, what revenge on D[enni]s can be had; 
Too dull for laughter, for reply too mad ? 
Of one so poor you cannot take the law; 
On one so old your sword you scorn to 

draw. 
Uncaged then let the harmless monster 

rage, 
Secure in dulness, madness, want, and age. 



Ill 



MR. J. M. S[MYTH]E 

CATECHISED ON HIS ONE EPISTLE TO 
MR. POPE 

What makes you write at this odd rate ? 

Why, Sir, it is to imitate. 

What makes you steal and trifle so ? 

Why, 't is to do as others do. 

But there 's no meaning to be seen. 

Why, that 's the very thing I mean. 



IV 



EPIGRAM 

ON MR. m[00]RE's going TO LAW WITH 
MR. GILIVER : INSCRIBED TO ATTORNEY 
TIBBALD 

Once in his life M[oo]re judges right: 

His sword and pen not worth a straw. 
An author that could never write, 
A gentleman that dares not fight. 

Has but one way to tease — by law. 
This suit, dear Tibbald, kindly hatch; 

Thus thou may'st help the sneaking 
elf; 
And sure a printer is his match, 

Who 's but a publisher himself. 



EPIGRAM 

A GOLD watch found on cinder whore, 
Or a good verse on J[emm]y M[oor]e, 
Proves but what either should conceal. 
Not that they 're rich, but that they steal. 



VI 

EPITAPH 

ON JAMES MOORE-SMYTHE 

Here lies what had nor birth, nor shape, 

nor fame ; 
No gentleman! no man! no-thing! no name! 
For Jamie ne'er grew James; and what 

they call 
More, shrunk to Smith — and Smith 's no 

name at all. 
Yet die thou can'st not, phantom, oddly 

fated : 
For how can no-thing be annihilated ? 



VII 



A QUESTION BY ANONYMOUS 

Tell, if you can, which did the worse, 
Caligula or Gr[afto]n's Gr[a]ce ? 

That made a Consul of a horse. 
And this a Laureate of an ass. 



N-A- ,\; 



ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT 



133 



VIII 

EPIGRAM 

The sting of this epigram was for Gibber, 
then Poet Laureate. 

GREAt G[eorge] such servants since thou 

well canst lack, 
Oh! save the salary, and drink the sack. 



EPIGRAM 

Beholix! ambitious of the British bays, 
Gibber and Duck contend in rival lays. 
But, gentle Colley, should thy verse pre- 
vail, 
Thou hast no fence, alas! against his flail: 
Therefore thy claim resign, allow his right: 
For Duck can thresh, you know, as well as 
write. 

EPITAPHS 

His saltern accumulem donis, et fungar inani Munere I 

ViRG. [^n. vii. 885.] 

ON CHARLES EARL OF DORSET 

IN THE CHURCH OF WITHYAM, SUSSEX 

Dorset, the Grace of Courts, the Muses' 

Pride, 
Patron of Arts, and Judge of Nature, died. 
The scourge of Pride, tho' sanctified or 

great. 
Of Fops in Learning, and of Knaves in 

State : 
Yet soft his Nature, tho' severe his 

Lay, 
His Anger moral, and his Wisdom gay. 
Bless'd Satirist! who touch'd the mean so 

true. 
As show'd. Vice had his hate and pity 

too. 
Bless'd Courtier! who could King and 

Country please. 
Yet sacred keep his Friendships and his 

Ease. 
Bless'd Peer! his great Forefathers' ev'ry 

grace 
Reflecting, and reflected in his race ; 



Where other Buckhursts, other Dorsets 

shine. 
And Patriots still, or Poets, deck the line. 



ON SIR WILLIAM TRUMBULL 

ONE OF THE PRINCIPAL SECRETARIES OF 
STATE TO KING WILLIAM III 

Who, having resigned his Place, died in his 
retirement at Easthamsted, in Berkshire, ITlt). 

A PLEASING Form, a firm, yet cautious 

Mind; 
Sincere, tho' prudent; constant, yet re- 
sign 'd: 
Honour unchanged, a Principle profest, 
Fix'd to one side, but mod'rate to the 

rest: 
An honest Courtier, yet a Patriot too. 
Just to his Prince, and to his Country true: 
Fill'd with the Sense of age, the Fire of 

youth, 
A scorn of Wrangling, yet a zeal for 

Truth; 
A gen'rous Faith, from superstition free, 
A love to Peace, and hate of Tyranny; 
Such this Man was, who now, from earth 

remov'd. 
At length enjoys that Liberty he lov'd. 



ON THE HON. SIMON HARCOURT 

ONLY SON OF THE LORD CHANCELLOR 
HARCOURT 

At the Church of Stanton-Harcourt, Oxford- 
shire, 1720. 

To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw 

near; 
Here lies the Friend most lov'd, the Son 

most dear; 
Who ne'er knew Joy but Friendship might 

divide. 
Or gave his father grief but when he 

died. 
How vain is Reason, Eloquence how weak! 
If Pope must tell what Harcourt cannot 

speak. 
Oh, let thy once-lov'd friend inscribe thy 

stone. 
And with a father's sorrows mix his own! 



134 



EPIGRAMS AND EPITAPHS 



ON JAMES CRAGGS, ESQ. 

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 

JACOBUS CRAGGS 

REGI MAGN^ BRITANNIA A SECRETIS, ET 
CONSILIIS SANCTIORIBUS: PRINCIPIS PARI- 
TER AC POPULI AMOR ET DELICI^ : VIXIT 
TITULIS ET INVIDIA MAJOR ANNOS, HEU 
PAUCOS, XXXV. OB. FEB. XIV. MDCCXX. 

Statesman, yet Friend to Truth! of Soul 

sincere, 
In Action faithful, and in Honour clear! 
Who broke no Promise, served no private 

end. 
Who gain'd no Title, and who lost no 

Friend ; 
Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd, 
Prais'd, wept, and honour'd, by the Muse 

he lov'd. 

ON MR. ROWE 

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 

Thy reliques, Rowt: ! to this sad shrine we 
trust. 

And near thy Shakspeare place thy hon- 
our'd bust, 

Oh, next him, skill'd to draw the tender 
tear — 

For never heart felt passion more sincere — 

To nobler sentiment to fire the brave — 

For never Briton more disdain'd a slave! 

Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest; 

Blest in thy Genius, in thy Love too blest! 

And blest, that timely from our scene re- 
mov'd. 

Thy soul enjoys the Liberty it lov'd. 

To these, so mourn'd in death, so lov'd 
in life. 

The childless parent and the widow'd wife 

With tears inscribes this monumental 
stone. 

That holds their ashes and expects her own. 

ON MRS. CORBET 

WHO DIED OF A CANCER IN HER BREAST 

Here rests a Woman, good without pre- 
tence, 
Bless'd with plain Reason and with sober 

Sense: 



No Conquests she but o'er herself desired.. 

No Arts essay'd but not to be admired. 

Passion and Pride were to her soul un- 
known, 

Convinc'd that Virtue only is our own. 

So unaffected, so composed, a mind, 

So firm, yet soft, so strong, yet so refin'd, 

Heav'n, as its purest gold, by Tortures 
tried : 

The Saint sustain'd it, but the Woman^diad. 



ON THE MONUMENT OF THE 
HON. R. DIGBY AND OF HIS 
SISTER MARY 

ERECTED BY THEIR FATHER, LORD DIGBY, 
IN THE CHURCH OF SHERBORNE, IN 
DORSETSHIRE, 1727. 

Go! fair example of untainted youth, 
Of modest Wisdom and pacific Truth: 
Composed in Suff'rings, and in Joy sedate. 
Good without noise, without pretension 

great: 
Just of thy word, in ev'ry thought sincere. 
Who knew no wish but what the world 

might hear: 
Of softest Manners, unaffected Mind, 
Lover of Peace, and Friend of humankind! 
Go live! for Heav'n's eternal year is thine; 
Go, and exalt thy Mortal to Divine. 

And thou, bless'd Maid! attendant on 

his doom. 
Pensive hath foUow'd to the silent Tomb, 
Steer'd the same course to the same quiet 

shore. 
Not parted long, and now to part no more! 
Go then, where only bliss sincere is known! 
Go where to love and to enjoy are one! 

Yet take these tears, mortality's relief. 
And till we share your joys, forgive our 

grief: 
These little rites, a Stone, a Verse, receiye; 
'T is all a Father, all a Friend can give! 



ON SIR GODFREY KNELLER 

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 1723 

Kneller, by Heav'n, and not a master, 
taught. 

Whose Art was Nature, and whose pic- 
tures thought; 



ON DR. FRANCIS ATTERBURY 



135 



Now for two ages having snatch'd from 

fate 
Whate'er was beauteous, or whate'er was 

great, 
Lies crown'd with Princes' honours. Poets' 

lays, 
Due to his Merit and brave thirst of Praise, 
lariving, great Nature fear'd he might 

outvie 
Her works; and, dying, fears herself may 
** die. 



ON GENERAL HENRY WITHERS 

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, 1 729 

Here, Withers! rest; thou bravest, gen- 
tlest mind, 

Thy Country's friend, but more of Human- 
kind. 

O born to Arms! O Worth in youth ap- 
pro v'd! 

O soft Humanity, in age belov'd! 

For thee the hardy Vet'ran drops a tear. 

And the gay Courtier feels the sigh sincere. 
Withers, adieu! yet not with thee re- 
move 

Thy martial spirit or thy social love ! 

Amidst Corruption, Luxury, and Rage, 

Still leave some ancient Virtues to our 
age; 

Nor let us say (those English glories gone) 

The last true Briton lies beneath this stone. 



ON MR. ELIJAH FENTON 

AT EASTHAMSTEAD, BERKS, 1 729 

This modest stone, what few vain marbles 
can. 

May truly say. Here lies an Honest Man; 

A Poet bless'd beyond the Poet's fate, 

Whom Heav'n kept sacred from the proud 
and great; 

Foe to loud Praise, and friend to learned 
Ease, 

Content with Science in the vale of peace. 

Calmly he look'd on either life, and here 

Saw nothing to regret, or there to fear; 

From Nature's temp'rate feast rose satis- 
fied, 

Thank'd Heav'n that he had lived, and that 
he died. 



ON MR. GAY 

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, I730 

Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild; 

In Wit a man; Simplicity a child: 

With native Humour temp'ring virtuous 

Rage, 
Form'd to delight at once and lash the 

age: 
Above temptation, in a low estate. 
And uncorrupted ev'n among the Great: 
A safe Companion, and an easy Friend, 
Unblamed thro' life, lamented in thy 

End. 
These are thy Honours ! not that here thy 

bust 
Is mix'd with Heroes, or with Kings thy 

dust: *■ 

But that the Worthy and the Good shall 

say. 
Striking their pensive bosoms — 'Here lies 

Gay ! ' 



INTENDED FOR SIR ISAAC 
NEWTON 

IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 

ISAACUS NEWTONUS 

QUEM IMMORTALEM TESTANTUR TEMPUS, 
NATURA, CCELUM : MORTALEM HOC MAR- 
MOR FATETUR 

Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in 

Night: 
God said. Let Newton he! and all was 

Light. 

ON DR. FRANCIS ATTERBURY 

BISHOP OF ROCHESTER, WHO DIED IN 
EXILE AT PARIS, 1 732 

His only daughter having expired in his 
arms immediately after she arrived in France 
to see him. 

DIALOGUE 

She. Yes, we have liv'd — One pang, 
and then we part ! 
May Heav'n, dear Father I now have all 
thy heart. 



T36 



EPIGRAMS AND EPITAPHS 



Yet ah ! how once we lov'd, remember 
still, 

Till you are dust like me. 

He. Dear Shade ! I will: 

Then mix this dust with thine — O spotless 
Ghost ! 

O more than Fortune, Friends, or Country 
lost ! 

Is there on earth one care, one wish be- 
side ? 

Yes — * Save my country, Heav'u ! ' he said, 
and died. 



ON EDMUND DUKE OF BUCK- 
INGHAM 

WHO DIED IN THE NINETEENTH YEAR 
OF HIS AGE, 1735 

If modest Youth, with cool Reflection 

crown'd, 
And ev'ry opening Virtue blooming round. 
Could save a Parent's justest Pride from 

fate, 
Or add one Patriot to a sinking state, 
This weeping marble had not ask'd thy 

tear, 
Or sadly told, how many hopes lie here ! 
The living Virtue now had shone approv'd; 
The Senate heard him, and his country 

lov'd. 
Yet softer honours and less noisy fame 
Attend the shade of gentle Buckingham: 
In whom a race, for Courage famed and 

Art, 
Ends in the milder merit of the Heart; 
And, Chiefs or Sages long to Britain giv'n, 
Pays the last tribute of a Saint to Heav'n. 



FOR ONE WHO WOULD NOT 
BE BURIED IN WESTMIN- 
STER ABBEY 

Heroes and Kings I your distance keep ; 
In peace let one poor Poet sleep. 
Who never flatter'd folks like you: 
Let Horace blush, and Virgil too. 



ANOTHER ON THE SAME 

Under this Marble, or under this Sill, 
Or under this Turf, or ev'n what they will. 



Whatever an Heir, or a Friend in his stead. 
Or any good creature shall lay o'er my 

head, 
Lies one who ne'er cared, and still cares 

not, a pin 
What they said, or may say, of the mortal 

within; 
But who, living and dying, serene, still and 

free, 
Trusts in God that as well as he was he 

shall be. 



ON TWO LOVERS STRUCK 
DEAD BY LIGHTNING 

John Hughes and Sarah Drew. See Pope's 
letter to Lady Mary written in September, 1718. 



When Eastern lovers feed the Funeral 
Fire, 

On the same pile their faithful Fair ex- 
pire; 

Here pitying Heav'n that Virtue mutual 
found. 

And blasted both, that it might neither 
wound. 

Hearts so sincere th' Almighty «aw well 
pleas'd. 

Sent his own lightning, and the victims 
seiz'd. 

II 

Think not by rig'rous judgment seiz'd, 
A pair so faithful could expire; 

Victims so pure Heav'n saw well pleas'd, 
And snatch'd them in celestial fire. 

Ill 

Live well, and fear no sudden fate: 
When God calls Virtue to the grave. 

Alike 't is Justice, soon or late, 
Mercy alike to kill or save. 

Virtue unmov'd can hear the call, 

And face the flash that melts the ball. 



EPITAPH 
The subject is supposed to be John Gay. 

Well, then, poor G lies underground! 

So there 's an end of honest Jack — 
So little justice here be found, 

*T is ten to one he '11 ne'er come back. 



Y^r 



Vv 



T 



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.JL ^•~<"~ \* 



AN 



ESS^AY ON MAN 



ryT- S? 



137 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



IN FOUR EPISTLES TO LORD BOLINGBROKE 



The first two epistles of the Essay on Man 
were written in 1732, the third in the year fol- 

THE DESIGN 

Having proposed to write some pieces on 
Human Life and Manners, such as, to use my 
Lord Bacon's expression, ' come home to men's 
business and bosoms,' I thought it more satis- 
factory to beg-in with considering Man in the 
abstract, his nature and his state : since to 
prove any moral duty, to enforce any moral 
precept, or to examine the perfection or imper- 
fection of any creature whatsoever, it is neces- 
sary first to know what condition and relation 
it is placed in, and what is the proper end and 
purpose of its being. 

The science of Human Nature is, like all 
other sciences, reduced to a few clear points : 
there are not many certain truths in this world. 
It is therefore in the anatomy of the mind, as 
in that of the body ; more good will accrue to 
mankind by attending to the large, open, and 
perceptible parts, than by studying too much 
such finer nerves and vessels, the conformations 
and uses of which will for ever escape our ob- 
servation. The disputes are all upon these 
last ; and, I will venture to say, they have less 
sharpened the wits than the hearts of men 
against each other, and have diminished the 
practice more than advanced the theory of 
morality. If I could flatter myself that this 
Essay has any merit, it is in steering betwixt 
the extremes of doctrines seemingly opposite, 
in passing over terms utterly unintelligible 
and in forming a temperate, yet not inconsis- 
tent, and a sliort, yet not imperfect, system of 
ethics. 

This I might have done in prose ; but I chose 
verse, and even rhyme, for two reasons. The 
one will appear obvious ; that principles, max- 
ims, or precepts, so written, both strike the 
reader more strongly at first, and are more 
easily retained by him afterwards : the other 
may seem odd, but it is true : I found I could 
express them more shortly this way than in 
prose itself ; and nothing is more certain than 
that much of the force as well as grace of ar- 
guments or instructions depends on their con- 
ciseness. I was unable to treat this part of my 
subject more in detail without becoming dry 
and tedious ; or more poetically without sacri- 
ficing perspicuity to ornament, without wander-, 
ing from the precision, or breaking the chain 



lowing, and the fourth in 1734, when the com- 
plete Essay was published as we have it. 

of reasoning. If any man can unite all these 
without diminution of any of them, I freely 
confess he will compass a thing above my ca- 
pacity. 

What is now published is only to be consid- 
ered as a general Map of Man, marking out no 
more than the greater parts, their extent, their 
limits, and their connexion, but leaving the 
particular to be more fully delineated in the 
charts which are to follow ; consequently these 
epistles in their progress (if I have health and 
leisure to make any progress) will be less dry, 
and more susceptible of poetical ornament. I 
am here only opening the f ountaias, and clear- 
ing the passage : to deduce the rivers, to fol- 
low them in their course, and to observe their 
effects, may be a task more agreeable. 



EPISTLE I 

OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN, 
WITH RESPECT TO THE UNIVERSE 

ARGUMENT 

Of Man in the abstract. I. That we can judge 
only with regard to our own system, being 
ignorant of the relations of systems and 
things, verse 17, etc. II. That Man is not to 
be deemed imperfect, but a being suited to 
his place and rank in the creation, agreeable 
to the general order of things, and conform- 
able to ends and relations to him unknown, 
verse 35, etc. III. That it is partly upon his 
ignorance of future events, and partly upon 
the hope of a future state, that all his happi- 
ness in the present depends. Terse 77, etc. 
IV. The pride of aiming at luore knowledge, 
and pretending to more perfection, the cause 
of Man's error and n.isery. The impiety of 
putting himself in ihe place of God, and 
judging of the fitness or unfitness, perfection 
or imperfection, justice or injustice, of his 
dispensations, verse 1 13, etc. V. The absurd- 
ity of conceiting himself the final cause of 
the creation, or expecting that perfection in 
the moral world which is not in the natural, 
verse 131, etc. VI. The unreasonableness of 
his complaints against Providence, while, on 
the one hand, he demands the perfections of 



'38 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



the angels, and, on the other, the bodily 
qualifications of the brutes ; though to pos- 
sess any of the sensitive faculties in a higher 
degree would render him miserable, verse 
178, etc. VII. That throughout the whole 
visible world a universal order and gradation 
in the sensual and mental faculties is ob- 
served, which causes a subordination of crea- 
ture to creature, and of all creatures to man. 
The gradations of Sense, Instinct, Thought, 
Reflection, Reason : that Reason alone coun- 
tervails all the other faculties, verse 207, etc. 
VIII. How much further this order and sub- 
ordination of living creatures may extend 
above and below us ; were any part of which 
broken, not that part only, but the whole 
connected creation must be destroyed, verse 
213, etc. IX. The extravagance, madness, 
and pride of such a desire, verse 209, etc. 
X. The consequence of all, the absolute sub- 
mission due to Providence, both as to our 
present and future state, verse 281, etc., to 
the end. 

Awake, my St. John ! leave all meaner 

things 
To low ambition and the pride of Kings. 
Let us, since life can little more supply 
Than just to look about us and to die. 
Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man; 
A mighty maze! but not without a plan; 
A wild, where weeds and flowers promiscu- 
ous shoot, 
Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit. 
Together let us beat this ample field, 
Try what the open, what the covert yield; lo 
The latent tracts, the giddy heights, ex- 
plore 
Of all who blindly creep or sightless soar; 
Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies. 
And catch the manners living as they rise; 
Laugh wliere we must, be candid where we 

can, 
But vindicate the ways of God to man. 
I. Say first, of God above or Man be- 
low 
What can we leason but from what we 

know? i 

Of man what see we but his station here, 
From which to reason, or to which refer ? 20 
Thro' worlds uhnumber'd tho' the God be 

known, 
'T is ours to trace him only in our own.^ 
He who thro' vast immensity can pierce, 
See worlds on vrorlds compose one universe, 
Observe how system into system runs, 
What other planets circle other suns, 



What varied being peoples every star. 
May tell why Heav'n has made us as we 

are: 
But of this frame, the bearings and the ties, 
The strong connexions, nice dependencies. 
Gradations just, has thy pervading soul 31 
Look'd thro'; or can a part contain the 

whole ? 
Is the great chain that draws all to 

agree. 
And drawn supports, upheld by God or 

thee? 
II. Presumptuous man ! the reason 

wouldst thou find. 
Why form'd so weak, so little, and so 

blind ? 
First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess 
Why form'd no weaker, blinder, and no 

less ! 
Ask of thy mother earth why oaks are 

made 
Taller or stronger than the weeds they 

shade ! 40 

Or ask of yonder argent fields above 
Why Jove's satellites are less than Jove ! 

Of systems possible, if 't is confest 
That wisdom infinite must form the best, 
Where all must filll or not coherent be, 
And all that rises rise in due degree; 
Then in the scale of reas'ning life 't is plain 
There must be, somewhere, such a rank as 

Man : 
And all the question (wrangle e'er so long) 
Is only this, — if God has placed him 

wrong ? 50 

Respecting Man, whatever wrong we call. 

May, must be right, as relative to all. 

In human works, tho' labour'd on with pain, 

A thousand movements scarce one purpose 

gain; ,^ 
In God's, one single can its end produce, 
Yet serve to second too some other use: 
So man, who here seems principal alone, 
Perhaps acts second to some sphere un- 
known. 
Touches some wheel, or verges to some 

goal: 
'T is but a part we see, and not a whole. 60 
When the proud steed shall know why 

man restrains 
His fiery course, or drives him o'er the 

plains ; 
W^heri the dull ox, why now he breaks the 

clod. 
Is now a victim, and now Egypt's God; 



-*»r— ^ 






;/ 



? 



i. 




AN ESSAY ON MAN 



hJi^- 



^^ 



4M 



139 



Then shall man's pride and dulness com- 
prehend 
His actions', passions', being's, use and end; 
Why doing, sutf'ring, check'd, impell'd; 

and why 
This hour a Slave, the next a Deity. 

Then say not man's imperfect, Heav'n 

in fault; 
Say rather man's as perfect as he ought; 70 
His knowledge measured to his state and 

place. 
His time a moment, and a point his space. 
If to be perfect in a certain sphere, 
What matter soon or late, or here or there ? 
Thp blest to-day is as completely so 
As who began a thousand years ago. 

III. Heav'n from all creatures hides the 

book of Fate, 
All but the page prescribed, their present 

state ; 
From brutes what men, from men what 

spirits know; 
Or who could suffer being here below ? 80 
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, 
Had he thy reason would he skip and play ? 
Pleas'd to the last he crops the flowery 

food. 
And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his 

blood. 
O blindness to the future ! kindly giv'n, 
That each may fill the circle mark'd by 

Heav'n; 
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 
A hero perish or a sparrow fall, 
Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, 89 

And now a bubble burst, and now a world. 
Hope humbly then; with trembling pin- 
ions soar; 
Wait the great teacher Death, and God 

adore. 
What future bliss He gives not thee to 

know. 
But gives that hope to be thy blessing 

now. 
Hope springs eternal in the human breast: 
Man never is, but always to be, blest. 
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home, 
Rests and expatiates in a life to come. 
Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutor'd 

mind 
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the 

wind; ' 100 

His soul proud Science never taught to 

stray 
Far as the solar walk or milky way; 



Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n. 
Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler 

Heav'n, 
Some safer world in depth of woods em- 
braced. 
Some happier island in the wat'ry waste. 
Where slaves once more their native land 

behold. 
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for 

gold. 
To be, contents his natural desire; 109 

He asks no Angel's wing, no Seraph's fire; 
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
His faithful dog shall bear him company. 

IV. Go, wiser thou ! and in thy scale of 
sense 

Weigh thy opinion against Providence; 
Call imperfection what thou fanciest such; 
Say, here he gives too little, there too 

much ; 
Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust, j^ 
Yet cry, if man 's unhappy, God 's unjust; 
If man alone engross not Heav'n's high>K«^*^ 

care, 119 

Alone made perfect here, immortal there: 
Snatch from his hand the balance and the 

rod, 
Rejudge his justice, be the god of God. 
In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies; 
All quit their sphere, and rush into the 

skies! 
Pride still is aiming at the bless' d abodes, 
Men would be Angels, Angels would be 

Gods. - 
Aspiring to be Gods if Angels fell, 
Aspiring to be Angels men rebel: 
And who but wishes to invert the laws 
Of order, sins against th' Eternal Cause. 130 

V. Ask for what end the heav'nly bodies 

shine, > 
Earth for whose use, — Pride answers, 

' 'T is for mine: 
For me kind Nature wakes her genial 

power, 
Suckles each herb, and spreads out ev'ry 

flower; 
Annual for me the grape, the rose, renew 
The juice nectareous and the balmy dew; 
For me the mine a thousand treasures 

brings; 
For me health gushes from a thousand 

springs; 
Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me 

rise; 
My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.' 



I40 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



But errs not Nature from this gracious 
end, 141 

From burning suns when livid deaths de- 
scend, 

When earthquakes swallow, or when tem- 
pests sweep 

Towns to one grave, whole nations to the 
deep ? 

• No,' 't is replied, * the first Almighty Cause 

Acts not by partial but by gen'ral laws; 

Th' exceptions few; some change since all 
began 

And what created perfect ? ' — Why then 
man ? 

If the great end be human happiness, 

Then Nature deviates; and can man do 
less ? 150 

As much that end a constant course re- 
quires 

Of showers and sunshine, as of man's de- 
sires; 

As much eternal springs and cloudless 
skies. 

As men for ever temp'rate, calm, and wise. 

If plagues or earthquakes break not Hea- 
v'n's design, 

Why then a Borgia or a Catiline ? 

Who knows but He, whose hand the light- 
ning forms, 

Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the 
storms ; 

Pours fierce ambition in a Caesar's mind, 

Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge 
mankind ? 160 

From pride, from pride, our very reas'n- 
ing springs; 

Account for moral as for natural things : 

Why charge we Heav'n in those, in these 
acquit ? 

In both, to reason right is to submit. 
Better for us, perhaps, it might appear. 

Were there all harmony, all virtue here: 

That never air or ocean felt the wind. 

That never passion discomposed the mind : 

But all subsists by elemental strife; 

And passions are the elements of life. 170 

The gen'ral order, since the whole began, 

Is kept in Nature, and is kept in Man. 
VI. What would this Man ? Now up- 
ward will he soar. 

And little less than Angel, would be more; 

Now looking downwards, just as griev'd 
appears 

To want the strength of bulls, the fur of 
bears. 



Made for his use all creatures if he call, 
Say what their use, had he the powers of 

all? 
Nature to these without profusion kind, 179 
The proper organs, proper powers assign'd; 
Each seeming want compensated of course, 
Here with degrees of swiftness, there of 

force ; 
All in exact proportion to the state; 
Nothing to add, and nothing to abate; 
Each beast, each insect, happy in its own: 
Is Heav'n unkind to man, and man alone ? 
Shall he alone, whom rational we call. 
Be pleas'd with nothing if not bless'd with 
all? 
The bliss of man (could pride that bless- 
ing find) 
Is not to act or think beyond mankind; 190 
No powers of body or of soul to share. 
But what his nature and his state can bear. 
Why has not man a microscopic eye ? 
For this plain reason, man is not a fly. 
Say, what the use, were finer optics giv'n, 
T' inspect a mite, not comprehend the 

Heav'n ? 
Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er, 
To smart and agonize at every pore ? 
Or quick effluvia darting thro' the brain, 
Die of a rose in aromatic pain ? 200 

If Nature thunder'd in his opening ears. 
And stunn'd him with the music of the 

spheres, 
How would he wish that Heav'n had left 

him still 
The whisp'ring zephyr and the purling rill ? 
Who finds not Providence all good and 

wise. 
Alike in what it gives and what denies ? 
VII. Far as creation's ample range ex- 
tends. 
The scale of sensual, mental powers as- 
cends. 
Mark how it mounts to man's imperial race 
From the green myriads in the peopled 
grass: 210 

What modes of sight betwixt each wide 

extreme, 
The mole's dim curtain and the lynx's 

beam: 
Of smell, the headlong lioness between 
And hound sagacious on the tainted green: 
Of hearing, from the life that fills the 

flood 
To that which warbles thro* the vernal 
wood. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



141 



The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine, 
Feels at each thread, and lives along the line : 
In the nice bee what sense so subtly true. 
From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing 

dew! 220 

How instinct varies in the grovelling swine. 
Compared, half-reas'niug elephant, with 

thine ! 
'Twixt that and reason what a nice barrier! 
For ever separate, yet for ever near! 
Remembrance and reflection how allied! 
What thin partitions Sense from Thought 

divide ! 
And middle natures how they long to join, 
Yet never pass th' insuperable line! 
Without this just gradation could they be 
Subjected these to those, or all to thee! 230 
The powers of all subdued by thee alone. 
Is not thy Reason all these powers in one ? 
VIII. See thro' this air, this ocean, and 

this earth 
All matter quick, and bursting into birth: 
Above, how high progressive life may go! 
Around, how wide! how deep extend below! 
Vast chain of being! which from God be- 
gan; 
Natures' ethereal, human, angel, man. 
Beast, bird, fish, insect, who no eye can see. 
No glass can reach; from infinite to thee; 
From thee to nothing. — On superior 

powers 241 

Were we to press, inferior might on ours; 
Or in the full creation leave a void. 
Where, one step broken, the great scale 's 

destroy'd : 
From Nature's chain whatever link you like. 
Tenth, or ten thousandth, breaks the chain 

alike. 
And if each system in gradation roll, 
Alike essential to th' amazing Whole, 
The least confusion but in one, not all 
That system only, but the Whole must 

fall. 250 

Let earth unbalanced from her orbit fly. 
Planets and stars run lawless thro' the sky; 
Let ruling angels from their spheres be 

hurl'd. 
Being on being wreck'd, and world on 

world ; 
Heav'n's whole foundations to their centre 

nod. 
And Nature tremble to the throne of God ! 
All this dread order break — for whom ? 

for thee ? 
Vile worm! — O madness! pride! impiety! 



IX. What if the foot, ordain'd the dust 
to tread, 

Or hand to toil, aspired to be the head ? 260 
What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd 
To serve mere engines to the ruling mind ? 
Just as absurd for any part to claim 
To be another in this gen'ral frame; 
Just as absurd to mourn the tasks or pains 
The great directing Mind of All ordains. 

All are but parts of one stupendous -^ 

Whole, 
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul; 
That changed thro' all, and yet in all the 

same, 269 

Great in the earth as in th' ethereal frame, 
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the 

trees; 
Lives thro' all life, extends thro' all extent, 
Spreads undivided, operates unspent; 
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal 

part, 
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; 
As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, 
As the rapt Seraph that adores and burns. 
To him no high, no low, no great, no small ; 
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all! 

X. Cease, then, nor Order imperfection 

name; 281 

Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. 
Know thy own point: this kind, this due 

degree 
Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on 

thee. 
Submit: in this or any other sphere. 
Secure to be as bless'd as thou canst bear; 
Safe in the hand of one disposing Power, 
Or in the natal or the mortal hour. 
AU. Nature is but Art unknown to thee; ■ 
All chance direction, which thou canst not 

see ; 29c 

All discord, harmony not understood; 
All partial evil, universal good: 
And spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite, 
One truth is clear. Whatever is, is right. 

EPISTLE II 

OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN WITH 
RESPECT TO HIMSELF AS AN INDIVIDUAL 

ABGUMENT 

I. The business of Man not to pry into God, but 
to study himself. His middle nature ; his 
powers and frailties, verses 1 to 19. The 



142 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



limits of his capacity, verse 19, etc. II. The 
two principles of Man, Self-love and Reason, 
both necessary. Self-love the stronger, and 
why. Their end the same, verse 81, etc. III. 
The Passions, and their use. The predomi- 
nant passion, and its force. Its necessity, in 
directing- men to different purposes. Its pro- 
vidential use, in fixing- our principle, and as- 
certaining- our virtue, verse 93, etc. IV. Virtue 
and Vice joined in our mixed nature ; the 
limits near, yet the thing-s separate and evi- 
dent : what is the office of Reason, verse 203, 
etc. V. How odious Vice in itself, and how 
we deceive ourselves into it, verse 217, etc. 
VI. That, however, the ends of Providence, 
and general goods, are answered in our pas- 
sions and imperfections. How usefully these 
are distributed to all orders of men : how use- 
ful they are to Society ; and to individuals ; 
in every state, and every age of life, verse 
238, etc., to the end. 

I. KN03y then thjself, presume not God to 

scan, 
The proper study of mankind is Man. 
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state, 
A being darkly wise and rudely great: 
With too much knowledge for the Sceptic 

side, 
With too much weakness for the Stoic's 

pride, 
He hangs between, in doubt to act or rest; 
In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast; 
In doubt his mind or body to prefer; 
Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err; lo 
Alike in ignorance, his reason such. 
Whether he thinks too little or too much; 
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused; 
Still by himself abused or disabused; 
Created half to rise, and half to fall; 
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to 

all; 
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd; 
The glory, jest, and riddle of the world! 
Go, wondrous creature! mount where 

Science guides; 
Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the 

tides; 20 

Instruct the planets in what orbs to run, 
Correct old Time, and regulate the sun; 
Go, soar with Plato to th' empyreal sphere. 
To the first good, first perfect, and first 

fair; 
Or tread the mazy round his followers trod. 
And quitting sense call imitating God; 
As eastern priests in giddy circles run, 
And turn their heads to imitate the sun. 



Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule — 
Then drop into thyself, and be a fool! 30 

Superior beings, when of late they saw 
A mortal man unfold all Nature's law. 
Admired such wisdom in an earthly shape, 
And show'd a Newton as we show an ape. 
Could he, whose rules the rapid comet 

bind. 
Describe or fix one movement of his mind ? 
Who saw its fires here rise, and there de- 
scend. 
Explain his own beginning or his end ? 
Alas ! what wonder ! Man's superior part 
Uncheck'd may rise, and climb from art to 

art; 40 

But when his own great work is but begun. 
What Reason weaves, by Passion is un- 
done. 
Trace Science then, with modesty thy'"^ 

guide ; 
First strip off all her equipage of pride; 
Deduct what is but vanity or dress, 
Or learning's luxury, or idleness, 
Or tricks to show the stretch of human 

brain. 
Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain; 
Expunge the whole, or lop th' excrescent 

parts ; 
Of all our vices have created arts; 50 

Then see how little the remaining sum. 
Which serv'd the past, and must the times 

to come ! 
II. Two principles in Human Nature 

reign. 
Self-love to urge, and Reason to restrain; ^ 
Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call ; 
Kach works its end, to move or govern 

' all: 
And to their proper operation still 
Ascribe all good, to their improper, ill. >": 

Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the 

soul; 
Reason's comparing balance rules the 

whole. 60 

Man but for that no action could attend, 
And but for this were active to no end: 
Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot. 
To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot; 
Or meteor-like, flame lawless thro' the 

void. 
Destroying others, by himself destroy'd. 
Most strength the moving principle re-\ 

quires ; 
Active its task, it prompts, impels, inspires: 
Sedate and quiet the comparing lies, 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



143 



Forin'd but to check, delib'rate, and ad- 
vise. 70 

Self-love still stronger, as its objects nigh; 

Reason's at distance and in prospect lie: 
j That sees immediate good by present sense; 

Reason, the future and the consequence. 

Thicker than arguments, temptations 
throng; 

At best more watchful this, but that more 
strong. 

The action of the stronger to suspend, 

Reason still use, to Reason still attend. 

Attention habit and experience gains; 

Each strengthens Reason, and Self-love re- 
strains. 80 

Let subtle schoolmen teach these friends to 

More studious to divide than to unite; 
And Grace and Virtue, Sense and Reason 

split, 
With all the rash dexterity of Wit. 
Wits, just like fools, at war about a name, 
Have full as oft no meaning, or the same. 
Self-love and Reason to one end aspire, 
Pain their aversion, Pleasure their desire; 
But greedy that, its object would devour; 
This taste the honey, and not wound the 

flower : 90 

Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood. 
Our greatest evil or our greatest good. 
III. Modes of Self-love the passions we 

may call; 
'T is real good or seeming moves them 

all: 
But since not every good we can divide. 
And Reason bids us for our own provide, 
Passions, tho' selfish, if their means be fair, 
List under Reason, and deserve her care; 
Those that imparted court a nobler aim. 
Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's 

name. 100 

In lazy apathy let Stoics boast 
Their virtue fix'd; 't is fix'd as in a frost; 
Contracted all, retiring to the breast; 
But strength of mind is Exercise, not Rest: 
The rising tempest puts in act the soul. 
Parts it may ravage, but preserves the 

whole. 
On life's vast ocean diversely we sail. 
Reason the card, but Passion is the gale ; 
Nor God alone in the still calm we find. 
He mounts the storm, and walks upon the 

wind. 110 

Passions, like elements, tho' born to fight. 
Yet, mix'd and soften'd, in his work unite: 



These 't is enough to temper and employ; 
But what composes man can man destroy ? 
Suffice that Reason keep to Nature's road; 
Subject, compound them, follow her and 

God. 
Love, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleasure's smil- 
ing train. 
Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of Pain, 
These mix'd with art, and to due bounds 

confin'd, 
Make and maintain the balance of the 

mind; 120 

The lights and shades, whose well-accorded 

strife 
Gives all the strength and colour of our life. 
Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes, 
And when in act they cease, in prospect 

rise: 
Present to grasp, and future still to find, 
The whole employ of body and of mind. 
All spread their charms, but charm not all 

alike ; 
On diff'rent senses diff'rent objects strike; 
Hence diff'rent passions more or less in- 
flame, 129 
As strong or weak the organs of the frame; 
And hence one Master-passion in the breast, 
Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest. 
As man, perhaps, the moment of his 

breath. 
Receives the lurking principle of death, 
The young disease, that must subdue at 

length. 
Grows with his growth, and strengthens 

with his streno'th: 
So, cast and mingled with his very frame. 
The mind's disease, its Ruling Passion, 

" "■"came ; 
Each vitaTliumour, which should feed the 

whole. 
Soon flows to this in body and in soul; 140 
Whatever warms the heart or fills the 

head. 
As the mind opens and its functions spread, 
Imagination plies her dangerous art. 
And pours it all upon the peccant part. 
Nature its mother, Habit is its nurse ; 
Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse; 
Reason itself but gives it edge and power. 
As Heav'n's bless'd beam turns vinegar 

more sour. 
We, wretched subjects, tho' to lawful 
_ sway, _ 149 

In this weak queen some fav'rite still 

obey: 



144 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



Ah ! if she lend not arms as well as rules, 
What can she more than tell us we are 

fools ? 
Teach us to mourn our nature, not to 

mend, 
A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend! 
Or from a judge turn pleader, to persuade 
The choice we make, or justify it made; 
Proud of an easy conquest all along, 
She but removes weak passions for the 

strong: 
So when small humours gather to a gout. 
The doctor fancies he has driv'n them out. 
Yes, Nature's road must ever be pre- 

ferr'd; i6i 

Reason is here no guide, but still a guard; 
'T is hers to rectify, not overthrow. 
And treat this passion more as friend than 

foe: 
A mightier Power the strong direction 

sends, 
And sev'ral men impels to sev'ral ends: 
Like varying winds, by other passions 

toss'd. 
This drives them constant to a certain 

coast. 
Let Power or Knowledge, Gold or Glory, 

please. 
Or (oft more strong than all) the love of 

ease; 170 

Thro' life 't is foUow'd, ev'n at life's ex- 
pense; 
The merchant's toil, the sage's indolence, 
The monk's humility, the hero's pride. 
All, all alike, find Reason on their side. 
Th' Eternal Art educing good from ill, 
Grafts on this passion our best principle: 
'T is thus the mercury of man is fix'd. 
Strong grows the virtue with his nature 

mix'd; 
The dross cements what else were too re- 

fin'd, 
And in one int'restbody acts with mind. 180 
As fruits ungrateful to the planter's care. 
On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear. 
The surest Virtues thus from Passions 

shoot, 
Wild Nature's vigour working at the root. 
What crops of wit and honesty appear 
From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear! 
See anger, zeal, and fortitude supply; 
Ev'n av'rice prudeiioe, sloth philosophy; 
Lust, thro' some certain strainers well re- 

fin'd, 189 

Is gentle love, and charms all womankind ; 



Envy, to which th' ignoble mind 's a slave, 
Is emulation in the learn'd or brave; 
Nor virtue male or female can we name, 
But what will grow on pride or grow on 

shame. 
Thus Nature gives us (let it check our 

pride) 
The Virtue nearest to our Vice allied: 
Reason the bias turns to good from ill, 
And Nero reigns a Titus if he will. 
The fiery soul abhorr'd in Catiline, 
In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine: 200 
The same ambition can destroy or save. 
And makes a patriot as it makes a knave. 

IV. This light and darkness in our chaos 
join'd. 

What shall divide ? — the God within the 
mind. 
Extremes in Nature equal ends produce; 

In Man they join to some mysterious use; 

Tho' each by turns the other's bounds in- 
vade. 

As in some well- wrought picture light and 
shade ; 

And oft so mix, the diff'rence is too nice 

Where ends the Virtue or begins the Vice. 

Fools! who from hence into the notion 

fall 211 

That Vice or Virtue there is none at all. 

If white and black blend, soften, and unite 

A thousand ways, is there no black or white? 

Ask your own heart, and nothing is so 
plain ; 

'T is to mistake them costs the time' and 
:*- pain. 

V. Vice is a monster of so frightful ,' 

mien, / 

As to be hated needs but to be seen; / 

Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, I 
We first endure, then pity, then embrace. 
But where th' extreme of Vice was ne'er 
agreed: 221 

Ask where 's the north ? — at York 't is on 

the Tweed; 
In Scotland at the Orcades; and there 
At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows 

where. 
No creature owns it in the first degree. 
But thinks his neighbour farther gone than 

he; 
Ev'n those who dwell beneath its very zone, 
Or never feel the rage or never own; 
What happier natures shrink at with af- 
fright. 
The hard inhabitant contends is right. 330 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



U5 



1 Virtuous and vicious ev'ry man must be, 
Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree: 
The rogue aud fool by fits is fair and wise, 
A"iid"ev*^n the best by fits what they despise. 
T is but by parts we follow good or ill ; 
For Vice or Virtue, Self directs it still ; 
Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal; 
But Heav'n's great view is one, and that 

the Whole. 
That counterworks each folly and caprice; 
That disappoints th' effect of every vice ; 240 
That, happy frailties to all ranks applied, 
Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride. 
Fear to the statesman, rashness to the 

chief. 
To kings presumption, and to crowds be- 
lief: 
That, virtue's ends from vanity can raise. 
Which seeks no int'rest, no reward but 

praise ; 
And build on wants, and on defects of mind, 
The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind. 

Heav'n forming each on other to depend, 
A master, or a servant, or a friend, 250 

Bids each on other for assistance call, 
Till one man's weakness grows the strength 

of all. 
Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally 
The common int'rest, or endear the tie. 
To these we owe true friendship, love sin- 
cere. 
Each home-felt joy that life inherits here ; 
Yet from the same we learn, in its decline. 
Those joys, those loves, those int'rests to re- 
sign; 
Taught, half by Reason, half by mere de- 
cay. 
To welcome Death, and calmly pass away. 
Whate'er the passion — knowledge, fame 
or pelf — 261 

Not one will change his neighbour with 

himself. 
The learn'd is happy Nature to explore, 
The fool is happy that he knows no more; 
The rich is happy in the plenty giv'n, 
The poor contents him with the care of 

Heav'n. 
See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing, 
The sot a hero, lunatic a king, 
The starving chymist in his golden views 
Supremely bless'd, the poet in his Muse. 270 
See some strange comfort ev'ry state 
attend, 
And Pride bestow'd on all, a common 
friend: 



See some fit passion every age supply; x 
Hdpe^ travels thro', nor quits us when we 

die. 
Behold the child, by Nature's kindly 

law, 
Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw: 
Some livelier plaything gives his youth 

delight, 
A little louder, but as empty quite: 
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, 
And beads and prayer-books are the toys 

of age : 280 

Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that be- 
fore. 
Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is 

o'er. 
Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying 

rays 
Those painted clouds that beautify our 

days; 
Each want of happiness by Hope supplied, 
And each vacuity of sense by Pride : 
These build as fast as Knowledge can de- 
stroy; 
In Folly's cup still laughs the bubble joy; 
One prospect lost, another still we gain. 
And not a vanity is giv'n in vain: 290 

Ev'n mean Self-love becomes, by force 

divine, 
The scale to measure others' wants by 

thine. 
See! and confess one comfort still must 

rise; 
'T is this. Though Man *s a fool, yet God is 

wise. 



EPISTLE III 

OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN WITH 
RESPECT TO SOCIETY 

ARGUMENT 

I. The whole Universe one system of Society. 
Nothing made wholly for itself, nor yet 
wholly for another. The happiness of ani- 
mals mutual, verse 7, etc. II. Reason or In- 
stinct operates alike to the good of each indi- 
vidual. Reason or Instinct operates also to 
Society in all animals, verse 49, etc. III. How 
far Society carried by Instinct ; — how much 
farther by reason, verse 109, etc. IV. Of that 
which is called the state of nature. Reason 
instructed by Instinct in the invention of 
arts ; — and in the forms of Society, verse 
144, etc. V. Origin of political societies ; — 



146 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



origin of Monarchy ; — patriarchal g-ovem- 
ment, verse 199, etc. VI. Origin of true 
Religion and Government, from the same 
principle of Love ; — origin of Superstition 
and Tyranny, from the same principle of 
Fear. The influence of Self-love operating 
to the social and public good. Restoration 
of true Religion and Government on their 
first principle. Mixed government. Various 
forms of each, and the true end of all, verse 
215, etc. 

Here then we rest: — * The Universal 

Lause 
Acts to one end, but acts by various laws.' 
In all the madness of superfluous Health, 
The trim of Pride, the impudence of Wealth, 
Let this great truth be present night and 

day: 
But most be present, if we preach or pray. 
I. Look round our world; behold the 
chain of love ) 

Combining all below and all above. 
See plastic Nature working to this end, 
The single atoms each to other tend, 10 

Attract, attracted to, the next in place, 
Form'd and impelFd its neighbour to em- 
brace. 
See matter next, with various life endued. 
Press to one centre still, the gen'ral good: 
See dying vegetables life sustain, 
See life dissolving vegetate again. 
All forms that perish other forms supply 
(By turns we catch the vital breath, and 

die). 
Like bubbles on the sea of Matter borne, 
They rise, they break, and to that sea re- 
turn. 20 
/Nothing is foreign; parts relate to whole; 
' One all-extending, all-preserving, soul 
Connects each being, greatest with the 

least; 
Made beast in aid of man, and man of 

beast; 
All serv'd, all serving: nothing stands 

alone ; 
The chain holds on, and where it ends un- 
known. 
Has God, thou fool! work'd solely for 
thy good, ^ 
Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food ? 
Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, 
For him as kindly spreads the flowery 
lawn. 30 

Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings ? 
Joy tunes ^is voice, joy elevates his wings. 



Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat ? 
Loves of his own and raptures swell the 

note. 
The bounding steed you pompously be- 
stride 
Shares with his lord the pleasure and the 

pride. 
Is thine alone the seed that strews the 

plain ? 
The birds of Heav'n shall vindicate their 

grain. 
Thine the full harvest of the golden year ? 
Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer. 40 
The hog that ploughs not, nor obeys thy 

call, 
Lives on the labours of this lord of all. 
Know Nature's children all divide her 

care; 
The fur that warms a monarch warm'd a 

bear. 
While Man exclaims, ' See all things for 

my use! ' 
* See man for mine ! ' replies a pamper'd 

goose: 
And just as short of Reason he must 

fall, 
Who thinks all made for one, not one for\ 

all. ' 

Grant that the pow'rful still the weak 

control; 
Be Man the wit and tyrant of the whole: 50 
Nature that tyrant checks; he only knows, 
And helps, another creature's wants and 

woes. 
Say will the falcon, stooping from above, 
Smit with her varying plumage, spare the 

dove ? 
Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings ? 
Or hears the hawk when Philomela 

sings ? — 
Man cares for all: to birds he gives his 

woods, 
To beasts his pastures, and to fish his 

floods. 
For some his Int'rest prompts him to pro- 
vide, 
For more his Pleasure, yet for more liis 

Pride: 60 

All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy 
Th' extensive blessing of his luxury. 
That very life his learned hunger craves, 
He saves from famine, from the savage 

saves ; 
Nay, feasts the animal he dooms his feast, 
And till he ends the being makes it blest; 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



147 



Which sees no more the stroke, or feels the 

pain, 
Than favour'd man by touch ethereal slain. 
The creature had his feast of life before; 
Thou too must perish when thy feast is 

o'er ! 70 

To each unthinking being, Heav'n, a 

friend. 
Gives not the useless knowledge of its end: 
To man imparts it, but with such a view 
As while he dreads it, makes him hope it 

too; 
The hour conceal'd, and so remote the fear, 
Death still draws nearer, never seeming 

near. 
Great standing miracle ! that Heav'n as- 

sign'd 
Its only thinking thing this turn of mind. 
II. Whether with Reason or with In- 
\ stinct blest. 

Know all enjoy that power which suits them 

best; 80 

To bliss alike by that direction tend. 
And find the means proportion'd to their 

end. 
Say, where full Instinct is th' unerring 

guide, 
W^hat Pope or Council can they need beside ? 
Reason, however able, cool at best. 
Cares not for service, or but serves when 

prest. 
Stays till we call, and then not often near; 
But honest Instinct comes a volunteer, 
Sure never to o'ershoot, but just to hit, 89 
While still too wide or short is human wit; 
Sure by quick Nature happiness to gain. 
Which heavier Reason labours at in vain. 
This, too, serves' always; Reason, never 

long; 
One must go right, the other may go 

wrong. 

See then the acting and comparing powers 

One in their nature, which are two in ours; 

/And Reason raise o'er Instinct as you can, 

\ In this 't is God directs, in that 't is Man. 

Who taught the nations of the field and 

wood 
To shun their poison and to choose their 

food ? 100 

Prescient, the tides or tempests to with- 
stand. 
Build on the wave, or arch beneath the 

sand ? 
Who made the spider parallels design. 
Sure as Demoivre, without rule or line ? 



Who bade the stork, Columbus-like, ex- 
plore 
Heav'ns not his own, and worlds unknown 

before ? 
Who calls the council, states the certain 

day. 

Who forms the phalanx, and who points 

the way ? 

III. God in the nature of each being 

founds 109 

Its proper bliss, and sets its proper bounds; 

But as he framed a whole the whole to 

bless. 
On mutual wants built mutual happiness: 
So from the first eternal order ran. 
And creature link'd to creature, man to 

man. • 

Whate'er of Hfe all-quick'ning ether keeps. 
Or breathes thro' air, or shoots beneath the 

deeps. 
Or pours profuse on earth, one Nature feeds 
The vital flame, and swells the genial 

seeds. 
Not man alone, but all that roam the wood. 
Or wing the sky, or roll along the flood, 120 
Each loves itself, but not itself alone, 
Each sex desires alike, till two are one. 
Nor ends the pleasure with the fierce em- 
brace : 
They love themselves a third time in their 

race. 
Thus beast and bird their common charge 

attend. 
The mothers nurse it, and the sires defend; 
The young dismiss'd to wander earth or air. 
There stops the instinct, and there ends the 

care; 
The link dissolves, each seeks a fresh em- 
brace, 
Another love succeeds, another race. 130 
A longer care man's helpless kind de- 
mands; 
That longer care contracts more lasting 

bands : 
Reflection, Reason, still the ties improve, x 
At once extend the int'rest and the love; ^ 
With choice we fix, with sympathy we 

burn; 
Each virtue in each passion takes its turn ; 
And still new needs, new helps, new habits 

rise. 
That graft benevolence on charities. 
Still as one brood and as another rose, 
These natural love maintain'd, habitual 
those : 140 



148 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



The last, scarce ripeu'd into perfect man, 
Saw helpless him from whom their life be- 
gan: 
Mem'ry and forecast just returns engage, 
That pointed back to youth, this on to age; 
While pleasure, gratitude, and hope, com- 

bin'd, 
Still spread the int'rest, and preserv'd the 
kind. 
IV. Nor think in Nature's state they 
blindly trod ; 
The state of Nature was the reign of God: 
Self-love and Social at her birth began, 
Union the bond of all things, and of Man; 
Pride then was not, nor arts, that pride to 
aid; ^ 151 

Man walk'd with beast, joint tenant of the 

shade; 
The same his table, and the same his bed; 
No murder clothed him, and no murder fed. 
In the same temple, the resounding wood. 
All vocal beings hymn'd their equal God: 
The shrine with gore unstain'd, with gold 

undrest, 
Unbribed, unbloody, stood the blameless 

priest: 
Heav'n's attribute was universal care. 
And man's prerogative to rule, but spare. 160 
Ah ! how unlike the man of times to come ! 
Of half that live the butcher and the tomb; 
Who, foe to Nature, hears the gen'ral groan. 
Murders their species, and betrays his own. 
But just disease to luxury succeeds. 
And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds; 
The fury-passions from that blood began. 
And turn'd on man a fiercer savage, man. 

See him from Nature rising slow to Art ! 
To copy Instinct then was Reason's part: 170 
Thus then to man the voice of Nature 

spake — 
* Go, from the creatures thy instructions 

take: 
Learn from the birds what food the thick- 
ets yield. 
Learn from the beasts the physic of the 

field; 
Thy arts of building from the bee receive; 
Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to 

weave ; 
Learn of the little nautilus to sail. 
Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving 

gale. 
Here too all forms of social union find, 
And hence let Reason late instruct man- 
kind. 180 



Here subterranean works and cities see; 
There towns aerial on the waving tree; 
Learn each small people's genius, policies, 
The ants' republic, and the realm of bees: 
How those in common all their wealth be- 
stow. 
And anarchy without confusion know; 
And these for ever, tho' a monarch reign, 
Their sep'rate cells and properties maintain. 
Mark what unvaried laws preserve each 
state, 189 

Laws wise as Nature, and as fix'd as Fate. 
In vain thy Reason finer webs shall draw, 
Entangle justice in her net of law, 
And right, too rigid, harden into wrong, 
Still for the strong too weak, the weak too 

strong. 
Yet go! and thus o'er all the creatures 

sway, 
Thus let the wiser make the rest obey; 
And for those arts mere Instinct could af- 
ford, 
Be crown'd as Monarchs, or as Gods 
ador'd.' 

V. Great Nature spoke; observant man 

obey 'd ; 
Cities were built, societies were made: 200 
Here rose one little state ; another near 
Grew by like means, and join'd thro' love 

or fear. 
Did here the trees with ruddier burdens 

bend. 
And there the streams in purer rills de- 
scend ? 
What war could ravish, commerce could 

bestow, 
And he return'd a friend who came a foe. 
Converse and love mankind might strongly 

draw. 
When Love was liberty, and Nature law. 
Thus states were form'd, the name of King 

unknown. 
Till common int'rest placed the sway in 

one. 210 

'T was Virtue only (or in arts or arms, 
Diffusing blessings, or averting harms), 
The same which in a sire the sons obey'd, 
A prince the father of a people made. 

VI. Till then, by Nature crown'd, each 
patriarch sate 

King, priest, and parent of his growing 

state ; 
On him, their second Providence, they 

hung, 
Their law his eye, their oracle his tongue. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



149 



He from the wond'ring furrow eall'd the 

food, 
Taught to command the fire, control the 

flood, 220 

Draw forth the monsters of th' abyss pro- 
found, 
Or fetch th' aerial eagle to the ground; 
Till drooping, sick'ning, dying, they began 
Whom they revered as God to mourn as 

Man: 
Then, looking up from sire to sire, explor'd 
One great first Father, and that first ador'd: 
Or plain tradition that this all begun, 
Convey 'd unbroken faith from sire to son; 
The worker from the work distinct was 

known. 
And simple Reason never sought but one. 
Ere Wit oblique had broke that steady 

light, 231 

Man, like his Maker, saw that all was 

right; 
To virtue in the paths of pleasure trod. 
And own'd a father when he ovvn'd a God. 
Love all the faith, and all th' allegiance 

then. 
For Nature knew no right divine in men; 
No ill could fear in God, and understood 
A sov'reign being but a sov'reign good; 
True faith, true policy, united ran; 
That was but love of God, and this of 

Man. 240 

Who first taught souls enslaved, and 

realms undone, 
Th' enormous faith of many made for one; 
That proud exception to all Nature's laws, 
T' invert the world, and counterwork its 

cause ? 
Force first made conquest, and that con- 
quest law; 
Till Superstition taught the tyrant awe. 
Then shared the tyranny, then lent it aid. 
And Gods of conquerors. Slaves of subjects 

made. 
She, 'midst the lightning's blaze and thun- 
der's sound. 
When rock'd the mountains, and when 

groan'd the ground, 250 

She taught the weak to bend, the proud to 

pray, 
To Power unseen, and mightier far than 

they: 
She, from the rending earth and bursting 

skies, 
Saw Gods descend, and Fiends infernal 

rise: 



Here fix'd the dreadful, there the blesg'd 
abodes ; 

Fear made her Devils, and weak hope her 
Gods; 

Gods, partial, changeful, passionate, un- 
just. 

Whose attributes were rage, revenge, or 
lust; 

Such as the souls of cowards might con- 
ceive. 

And, form'd like tyrants, tyrants would be- 
lieve. 260 

Zeal then, not Charity, became the guide. 

And Hell was built on spite, and Heav'n ot. 
pride : 

Then sacred seem'd th' ethereal vault no 
more; 

Altars grew marble then, and reek'd with 
gore: 

Then first the flamen tasted living food. 

Next his grim idol smear'd with human 
blood ; 

With Heav'n's own thunders shook the 
world below. 

And play'd the God an engine on his foe. 
So drives Self-love thro' just and thro* 
unjust, 269 

To one man's power, ambition, lucre, lust: 

The same Self-love in all becomes the cause 

Of what restrains him, government and 
laws. 

For, what one likes if others like as well. 

What serves one will, when many wills re- 
bel ? 

How shall he keep what, sleeping or awake, 

A weaker may surprise, a stronger take ? 

His safety must his liberty restrain: 

All join to guard what each desires to gain. 

Forc'd into virtue thus by self-defence, 

Ev'n kings learn'd justice and benevo- 
lence: 280 

Self-love forsook the path it first pursued, 

And found the private in the public good. 
'T was then the studious head, or gen'- 
rous mind 

Follower of God, or friend of human kind, 

Poet or patriot, rose but to restore 

The faith and moral Nature gave before; 

Relumed her ancient light, not kindled 
new; 

If not God's image, yet his shadow drew; 

Taught power's due use to people and to 
kings. 

Taught nor to slack nor strain its tender 
strings, 290 



I50 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



The less or greater set so justly true, 
That touching one must strike the other too; 
Till jarring int'rests of themselves create 
Th' aecordinjr music of a well-raix'd state. 
Such is the world's great harmony, that 

springs 
From order, union, full consent of things; 
Where small and great, where weak and 

mighty made 
To serve, not suffer, strengthen, not invade; 
More powerful each as needful to the rest. 
And, in proportion as it blesses, blest; 300 
Draw to one point, and to one centre bring 
Beast, man, or angel, servant, lord, or king. 
For forms of government let fools contest; 
Whate'er is best administer'd is best: 
For modes of faith let graceless zealots 

fight; 
His can't be wrong whose life is in the 

right. 
In Faith and Hope the world will disagree, 
But all mankind's concern is Charity: 
All must be false that thwart this one 

great end. 
And all of God that bless mankind or 

mend. 310 

Man, like the gen'rous vine, supported 

lives; 
The strength he gains is from th' embrace 

he gives. 
On their own axis as the planets run, 
Yet make at once their circle round the 

sun; 
So two consistent motions act the soul, 
And one regards itself, and one the Whole. 
Thus God and Xature link'd the gen'ral 

frame, ,,., 

And bade Self-love and Social be the 

same. v 



EPISTLE TV 

OF THE NATURE AND STATE OF MAN, WITH 
RESPECT TO HAPPINESS 

ARGUMENT 

I. False notions of Happiness, philosophical 
and popular, answered, from verses 19 to 26. 
II. It is the end of all men, and attainable 
by all. God intends Happiness to be equal ; 
and, to be so, it must be social, since all par- 
ticular Happiness depends on general, and 
since he governs by general, not particular 
laws. As it is necessary for order, and the 
peace and welfare of Society, that external 



goods should be unequal, Happiness is not 
made to consist in these. But notwithstand- 
ing that inequality, the balance of Happiness 
among mankind is kept even by Providence, 
by the two passions of Hope and Fear, verse 
29, etc. III. What the Happiness of indi- 
viduals is, as far as is consistent with the 
constitution of this world ; and that the good 
man has here the advantage. The error of 
imputing- to virtue what are only the calam- 
ities of Nature, or of Fortune, verse 77, etc. 
IV. The folly of expecting that God should 
alter KTs general laws in favour of particu- 
lars, verse 123, etc. V. Tliat we are not 
judges who are good ; but that whoever 
they are, they must be happiest, verse 131, 
etc. VI. That external goods are not the 
proper rewards, but often inconsistent with, 
or destructive of Virtue. That even these 
can make no man happy without Virtue : 
— instanced in Riches ; Honours ; Nobility ; 
Greatness ; Fame ; Superior Talents, with 
pictures of human infelicity in men possessed 
of them all, verse 149, etc. VII. That Vir- 
tue only constitutes a Happiness, whose ob- 
ject is universal, and whose prospect eternal. 
That the perfection of Virtue and Happiness 
consists in a conformity to the Order of Pro- 
vidence here, and a resignation to it here 
and hereafter, verse 327, etc. 



O Happiness! our being's end and aim! 
Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content! -whate'er 

thy name. 
That something still which prompts th' 

eternal sigh. 
For which we bear to live, or dare to 

die; 
Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, 
O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and 

wise: 
Plant of celestial seed! if dropt below, 
Say in what mortal soil thou deign'st to 

grow ? 
Fair opening to some court's propitious 

shine. 
Or deep with diamonds in the flaming 

mine ? 10 

Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels 

yield, 
Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field ? 
Where grows ? — where grows it not ? If 

vain our toil, 
We ought to blame the culture, not the 

soil: 
Fix'd to no spot is Happiness sincere; 
'Tis nowhere to be found, or ev'rywhere: 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



151 



"T is never to be bought, but always free, 
Aud fled from monarchs, St. John! 
dwells with thee. 

I. Ask of the Leain'd the way ? the 

Learn'd are blind, 

This bids to serve, and that to shun man- 
kind: 20 

Some place the bliss in Action, some in 
Ease, 

Those call it Pleasure, and Contentment 
these; 

Some sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in 
Pain ; 

Some swell'd to Gods, confess ev'n Virtue 
vain; 

Or indolent, to each extreme they fall. 

To trust in everything, or doubt of all. 
Who thus define it, sa}'^ they more or less 

Than this, that happiness is happiness ? 

II. Take Nature's path and mad Opin- 
ion's leave; 

All states can reach it, and all heads con- 
ceive; 30 
Obvious her goods, in no extreme they 

dwell; 
There needs but thinking right and mean- 
ing well: 
And, mourn our various portions as we 

please. 
Equal is common sense and common ease. 
Remember, Man, ' the Universal Cause 
Acts not by partial but by gen'ral laws,' 
And makes what Happiness we justly call 
Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 
There 's not a blessing individuals find. 
But some way leans and hearkens to the 
kind; 40 

No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride. 
No cavern'd hermit, rests self-satisfied; 
Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend. 
Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend. 
Abstract what others feel, what others think. 
All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink: 
Each has his share; and who would more 

obtain. 
Shall find the pleasure pays not half the 
pain. 
Order is Heav'n's first law; and, this 
confest, 
Some are and must be greater than the 
rest, 50 

More rich, more wise: but who infers from 

hence 
That such are happier, shocks all common 
sense. 



Heav'n to mankind impartial we confess, 

If all are equal in their happiness: 

But mutual wants tliis happiness increase; 

All Nature's dilf'reuce keeps all Nature's 
peace. 

Condition, circumstance, is not the thing; 

Bliss is the same in subject or in king. 

In who obtain defence, or who defend, 59 

In him who is, or him who finds a friend: 

Heav'n breathes thro' every member of the 
whole 

One common blessing, as one common soul. 

But Fortune's gifts, if each alike possest. 

And each were equal, must not all contest ? 

If then to all men happiness was meant, 

God in externals could not place content. 
Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, 

And^ese be happy call'd, unhappy those; 

But Heav'n's just balance equal will appear, 

While those are placed in hope and these 
in fear: 70 

Not present good or ill the joy or curse. 

But future views of better or of worse. 
O sons of earth ! attempt ye still to rise 

By mountains piled on mountains to the 
skies ? 

Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil sur- 
veys, 

And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. 
Know all the good that individuals find. 

Or God and Nature meant to mere man- 
kind. 

Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of 
sense, 

Lie in three words — Health, Peace, and 
Competence. 80 

But health consists with temperance alone. 

And peace, O Virtue ! peace is all thy own. 

The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain; 

But these less taste them as they worse ob- 
tain. 

Say, in pursuit of profit or delight. 

Who risk the most, that take wrong means 
or right ? 

Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst. 

Which meets contempt, or which compas- 
sion first ? 

Count all th' advantage prosp'rous vice at- 
tains, 

'T is but what virtue flies from and dis- 
dains : 90 

And grant the bad what happiness they 
would. 

One they must want, which is, to pass for 
good. 



152 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



O blind to truth and God's whole scheme 

below, 
Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue woe ! 
Who sees and follows that great scheme 

the best, 
Best knows the blessing, and will most be 

blest. 
But fools the good alone unhappy call, 
For ills or accidents that chance to all. 
See Falkland dies, the virtuous and the 

just ! 99 

See Godlike Turenne prostrate on the dust ! 

See Sidney bleeds amid the martial 
strife ! — 

Was this their virtue, or contempt of life ? 

Say, was it virtue, more tho' Heav'n ne'er 
gave, 

Lamented Digby ! sunk thee to the grave ? 
/ Tell me, if virtue made the son expire, 
\Why full of days and honour lives the sire ? 

Why drew Marseilles' good bishop purer 
breath 

When Nature sicken'd, and each gale was 
death ? 

Or why so long (in life if long can be) 109 

Lent Heav'n a parent to the poor and 
me? 
What makes all physical or moral ill ? 
/There deviates Nature, and here wanders 
j Will. 

{ God sends not ill, if rightly understood, 

Or partial ill is universal good. 

Or change admits, or Nature lets it fall, 

Short and but rare till man improv'd it all. 

We just as wisely might of Heav'n com- 
plain 

That Righteous Abel was destroy'd by 
Cain, 

As that the virtuous son is ill at ease 

When his lewd father gave the dire dis- 
ease. 120 

Think we, like some weak prince, th' Eter- * 
nal Cause 

Prone for his fav'rites to reverse his laws ? 
IV. Shall burning ^tna, if a sage re- 
quires, 

Forget to thunder, and recall her fires ? 

On air or sea new motions be imprest, 

O blameless Bethel ! to relieve thy breast ? 

When the loose mountain trembles from on 
high, 

Shall gravitation cease if you go by ? 

Or some old temple, nodding to its fall, 

For Chartres' head reserve the hanging 
wall ? 130 



V. But still this world, so fitted for the 

knave. 
Contents us not. — A better shall we have ? 
A kingdom of the just then let it be; 
But first consider how those just agree. 
The good must merit God's peculiar care; 
But who but God can tell us who they are ? 
One thinks on Calvin Heav'n's own spirit 

fell; 
Another deems him instrument of Hell: 
If Calvin feel Heav'n's blessing or its rod, 
This cries there is, and that, there is no 

God. i4<s 

What shocks one part will edify the rest; 
Nor with one system can they all be blest. 
The very best will variously incline, 
And what rewards your virtue punish mine. 
Whatever i§^ is right. — This world, 't is true. 
Was made for Csesar — but for Titus too: 
And which more bless'd ? who chain'd his 

country, say, 
Or he whose virtue sigh'd to lose a day ? 

VI. * But sometimes Virtue starves while 
Vice is fed.' 149 

What then ? is the reward of virtue bread ? 
That vice may merit; 't is the price of toil; 
The knave deserves it when he tills the soil, 
The knave deserves it when he tempts the 

main, 
Where Folly fights for kings or dives for 

gain. 
The good man may be weak, be indolent; 
Nor is his claim to plenty but content. 
But grant him riches, your demand is o'er. 
' No: shall the good want health, the good 

want power ? ' 
Add health and power, and every earthly 

thing. 
* Why bounded power ? why private ? why 

no king ? 160 

Nay, why external for internal giv'n ? 
Why is not man a God, and earth a 

Heav'n ? ' 
Who ask and reason thus will 



scarce con- 



ceive 



God gives enough while he has more to 
give: 

Immense the power, immense were the 
demand ; 

Say at what part of Nature will they 
stand ? 
What nothing earthly gives or can de- 
stroy. 

The soul's calm sunshine and the heartfelt 

joy, 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



153 



Is Virtue's prize. A better would you fix ? 
Then give humility a coach and six, 170 

Justice a conqueror's sword, or truth a 

gown, 
Or public spirit its great cure, a crown. 
Weak, foolish man! will Heav'u reward us 

there 
With the same trash mad mortals wish for 

here? 
The boy and man an individual makes. 
Yet sigh'st thou now for apptes and for 

cakes ? 
Go, like the Indian, in another life 
Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife; 
As well as dream such trifles are assign'd, 
As toys and empires, for a godlike mind: 180 
Rewards, that either would to Virtue bring 
No joy, or be destructive of the thing: 
How oft b}' these at sixty are undone 
The virtues of a saint at twenty-one! 

To whom can Riches give repute or trust, 
Content or pleasure, but the good and just ? 
Judges and senates have been bought for 

gold, 
Esteem and Love were never to be sold. 
O fool! to think God hates the worthy 

mind. 
The lover and the love of humankind, 190 
Whose life is healthful, and whose con- 
science clear, 
Becaase he wants a thousand pounds a 



Jnor\ 



year. 



onour and shame from no condition rise ; 
^ Act well your part: there all the honour lies. 
Fortune in men has some small diff'rence 

made; 
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade, 
The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd ; 
The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. 
' What differ more,' you cry, ' than crown 

and cowl ? ' 
I'll tell you, friend! a wise man and a 

fool. 200 

You '11 find, if once the monarch acts the 

monk, 
Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, 
Worth makes the man, and want of it the 

fellow. 
The rest is all but leather or prunella. 
Stuck o'er with titles, and hung round 

with strings. 
That thou mayst be by kings, or whores of 

kings, 
Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race. 
In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece: 



But by your fathers' worth if yours you 

rate. 
Count me those only who were good and 

great. 210 

Go! if your ancient but ignoble blood 
Has crept thro' scoundrels ever since the 

flood. 
Go! and pretend your family is young. 
Nor own your fathers have been fools so 

long. 
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cow- 
ards ? 
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards. 
Look next on Greatness: say where 

Greatness lies. 
* Where but among the heroes and the 

wise ? ' 
Heroes are much the same, the point 's 

agreed, 219 

From Macedonia's madman to the Swede; 
The whole strange purpose of their lives to 

find. 
Or make, an enemy of all mankind! 
Not one looks backward, onward still he 

goes. 
Yet ne'er looks forward further than his 

nose. 
No less alike the politic and wise ; 
All sly slow things with circumspective 

eyes: 
Men in their loose unguarded hours they 

take. 
Not that themselves are wise, but others 

weak. 
But grant that those can conquer, these can 

cheat: 229 

'T is phrase absurd to call a villain great. 
Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave. 
Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. 
Who noble ends by noble means obtains, 
Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains, 
Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed 
Like Socrates: — that man is great in- 
deed! 
What 's fame ? a fancied life in others' 

breath ; 
A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death. 
Just what you hear you have ; and what 's 

unknown 
The same, my lord, if Tully's or your 



own. 



All that we feel of it begins and ends 
In the small circle of our foes or friends; 
To all beside as much an empty shade, 
An Eugene living as a Csesar dead; 



240 



154 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



Alike or when or where, they shone or 

shine, 
Or on the Rubicon or on the Rhine. 
A Wit's a feather, and a Chief a rod; 
(An Honest Man 's the noblest work of God. 
Fame but from death a villain's name can 

save, 249 

As Justice tears his body from the grave; 
When what t' oblivion better were resign'd 
Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. 
All fame is foreign but of true desert, 
Plays round the head, but comes not to the 

heart: 
One self-approving hour whole years out- 
weighs 
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas: 
And more true joy Marcellus exiled feels 
Than Caesar with a senate at his heels. 

In Parts superior what advantage lies ? 
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise ? 260 
'T is but to know how little can be known, 
To see all others' faults, and feel our own: 
Condemn'd in bus'ness or in arts to drudge. 
Without a second, or without a judge. 
Truths would you teach, or save a sinking 

land? 
All fear, none aid you, and few understand. 
Painful preeminence! yourself to view 
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too. 
Bring then these blessings to a strict 

account ; 
Make fair deductions; see to what they 

mount; 270 

How much of other each is sure to cost; 
How each for other oft is wholly lost; 
How inconsistent greater goods with these; 
How sometimes life is risk'd, and always 

ease. 
Think, and if still the things thy envy call, 
Say, wouldst thou be the man to whom 

they fall ? 
To sigh for ribands if thou art so silly, 
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra or Sir 

Billy. 
Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life ? 
Look but on Gripus or on Gripus' wife. 280 
If parts allure thee, think howBacon shined, 
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind! 
Or, ravish'd with the whistling of a name. 
See Cromwell damn'd to everlasting fame! 
If all united thy ambition call. 
From ancient story learn to scorn them all: 
There in the rich, the honour'd, famed, and 

great, 
See the false scal^e of Happiness complete! 



In hearts of Kings or arms of Queens who 

iay» 

How happy those to ruin, these betray. 290 
Mark by what wretched steps their glory 

grows, 
From dirt and sea-weed, as proud Venice 

rose; 
In each how guilt and greatness equal ran, 
And all that rais'd the Hero sunk the Man: 
Now Europe's laurels on their brows be- 
hold. 
But stain'd with blood, or ill-exchanged 

for gold; 
Then see them broke with toils, or sunk in 

ease. 
Or infamous for plunder'd provinces. ,JsM.- *\ 
O wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame ^^ 
E'er taught to shine, or sanctified from 

shame ! 300 

What greater bliss attends their close of 

life? 
Some greedy minion, or imperious wife. 
The trophied arches, storied halls invade, 
And haunt their slumbers in the pompous 

shade. 
Alas! not dazzled with their noontide ray, 
Compute the morn and ev'ning to the 

day; 
The whole amount of that enormous fame, 
A tale that blends their glory with their 

shame! 
VII. Know then this truth (enough for 

man to know), 
' Virtue alone is happiness below;' 310 

The only point where human bliss stands 

still. 
And tastes the good without the fall to ill; 
Where only merit constant pay receives, 
Is bless'd in what it takes and what it 

gives; 
The joy unequall'd if its end it gain, 
And, if it lose, attended with no pain; 
Without satiety, tho' e'er so bless'd, 
And but more relish'd as the more dis- 

tress'd : 
The broadest mirth unfeeling Folly wears. 
Less pleasing far than Virtue's very tears: 
Good from each object, from each place 

acquired, 321 

For ever exercised, yet never tired ; 
Never elated while one man 's oppress'd ; 
Never dejected while another 's bless'd : 
And where no wants, no wishes can re- 
main. 
Since but to wish more virtue is to gain. 



AN ESSAY ON MAN 



^SS 



See the sole bliss Heav'ii could on all be- 
stow! 

Which who but feels can taste, but thinks 
can know: 

Yet poor with fortune, and with learning 
blind, 

The bad must miss, the good untaught will 
find: 330 

Slave to no sect, who takes no private 
road. 

But looks thro' Nature up to Nature's 
God; 

Pursues that chain which links th' immense 
design. 

Joins Heav'n and earth, and mortal and 
divine; 

Sees that no being any bliss can know. 

But touches some above and some below; 

Learns from this union of the rising whole 

The first, last purpose of the human soul; 

And knows where faith, law, morals, all 
began, 

All end, in love of God and love of Man. 
For him alone Hope leads from goal to 
goal, 341 

And opens still and opens on his soul, 

Till lengthen'd on to faith, and unconfin'd, 

It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind. 

He sees why Nature plants in man alone 

Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss un- 
known 

(Nature, whose dictates to no other kind 

Are giv'n in vain, but what they seek they 
find): 

Wise is her present; she connects in this 

His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss; 

At once his own bright prospect to be 
blest, 351 

And strongest motive to assist the rest. 
Self-love thus push'd to social, to Divine, 

Gives thee to make thy neighbour's bless- 
ing thine. 

Is this too little for the boundless heart ? 

Extend it, let thy enemies have part: 

Grasp the whole world of reason, life, and 
sense, 

In one close system of benevolence: 

Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, 

And height of Bliss but height of Charity. 
, God loves from whole to parts: but hu- 
■C man soul 361 

Must rise from individual to the whole. 



Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to 
wake, 

As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; 

The centre mov'd, a circle straight suc- 
ceeds. 

Another still, and still another spreads; 

Friends, parent, neighbour, first it will em- 
brace ; 

His country next; and next all human race; 

Wide and more wide, th' o'erflo wings of the 
mind 

Take ev'ry creature in of ev'ry kind: 370 

Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty 
blest, 

And Heav'n beholds its image in his breast. 
Come then, my Friend! my Genius! 
come along, 

O master of the poet and the song! 

And while the Muse now stoops, or now 
ascends. 

To man's low passions, or their glorious 
ends. 

Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise, 

To fall with dignity, with temper rise: 

Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer 

From grave to gay, from lively to severe; 

Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, 381 

Intent to reason, or polite to please. 

O! while along the stream of time thy 
name 

Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, 

Say, shall my little bark attendant sail. 

Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale ? 

When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust re- 
pose. 

Whose sons shall blush their fathers were 
thy foes. 

Shall then this verse to future age pretend 

Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and 
friend ? 390 

That, urged by thee, I turn'd the tuneful 
art 

From sounds to things, from fancy to the 
heart : 

For Wit's false mirror held up Nature's 

Show'd erring pride, Whatever is, is right; 
That Reason, Passion, answer one great aim ; 
That true Self-love and Social are the 

same; 
That Virtue only makes our bliss below. 
And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know. 



^ -- . ./tf 



/ 



156 



f^^^^X^^r^^ 



MORAL ESSAYS 



MORAL ESSAYS 



Est brevitate opus, ut currat sententia, neu se 
Impediat verbis lassas onerantibus aures : 
Et sermone opus est modo tristi, sajpe jocoso, 
Defendente vicem modo rhetoris atque poetae, 
Interdum urbani, parcentis viribus, atque 
Extenuantis eas consulto. 

Horace. 



The present order of the Moral Essays is very 
different from that of their original publication. 
The fifth epistle (to Addison) was written in 
1715, and published five years later in Tickell's 
edition of Addison's works. The fourth epis- 
tle (to the Earl of Burlington) was published 
in 1781, under the title Of Taste. The third 
epistle (to Lord Bathurst) was published in 
1732, and followed in 1733 by the first epistle 
(to Lord Cobham). The second epistle (to a 



Lady) was published in 1735. The whole se- 
ries appeared in their present order, under the 
direction of Warburton, after Pope's death. 

Though it is doubtful how far it suggests 
Pope's primary intention, Warburton's Adver- 
tisement is here printed because Pope undoubt- 
edly wished it, with its flattering implication of 
his philosophical breadth, to be accepted as a 
true statement of a plan which was plainly 
broader than its execution. 



ADVERTISEMENT 



BY DR. WARBURTON 



The Essay on Man was intended to be com- 
prised in four books : — 

-7" The first of which the author has given us 
under that title in four epistles. 

_l. The second was to have consisted of the same 
number : 1. Of the extent and limits of human 
reason. 2. Of those arts and sciences, and of 
the parts of them, which are useful, and there- 
fore attainable ; together with those which are 
nnuseful, and therefore unattainable. 3. jQf 
the nature, ends, use, and application of the 
different capacities of men. 4. Of the use of 
learning ; of the science of the world ; and of 
wit ; concluding with a satire against the mis- 
application of them, illustrated by pictures, 
characters, and examples. 

J21 The third book regarded civil regimen, or 
the science of politics ; in which the several 
forms of a republic were to be examined and 
explained ; together with the several modes of 
religious worship, as far forth as they affect 
society : between which the author always sup- 
posed there was the most interesting relation 
and closest connection. So that this part would 
have treated of civil and religious society in 
their full extent. 

\ The fourth and last book concerned private 
ethics, or practical morality, considered in all 
the circumstances, orders, professions, and sta- 
tions of human life. 

The scheme of all this had been maturely 
digested, and communicated to Lord Boling- 
broke. Dr. Swift, and one or two more ; and 
was intended for the only work of his riper 



years; but was, partly through ill health, 
partly through discouragements from the de- 
pravity of the times ; and partly on prudential 
and other considerations, interrupted, post- 
poned, and lastly, in a manner, laid aside. 

But as this was the author's favourite work, 
which more exactly reflected the image of his 
strong capacious mind, and as we can have but 
a very imperfect idea of it from the disjecta 
membra poetce that now remain, it may not be 
amiss to be a little more particular concerning 
each of these projected books. 

The first, as it treats of man in the abstract, 
and considers him in general under every one 
of his relations, becomes the foundation, and 
furnishes out the subjects of the three follow- 
ing : so that — 

The second book was to take up again the 
first and second epistles of the first book, and 
to treat of man in his intellectual capacity at 
large, as has been explained above. Of this 
only a small part of the conclusion (which, 
as we said, was to have contained a satire 
against the misapplication of wit and learning) 
may be found in the fourth book of the Dun- 
ciad ; and up and down, occasionally, in the 
other three. 

The third book, in like manner, was to reas- 
surae the subject of the third epistle of the 
first, which treats of man in his social, political, 
and religious capacity. But this part the poet 
afterwards conceived might be best executed in 
an epic poem, as the action would make it more 
animated, and the fable less invidious ; in which 
all the great principles of true and false gov- 
ernments and religions should be chiefly de- 
livered in feigned examples. 

The fourth and last book was to pursue the 



MORAL ESSAYS 



IS7 



subject of the fourth epistle of the first, and to 
treat of ethics, or practical morality ; aiid would 
have consisted of many members, of which the 
four following epistles are detached portions ; 
the two first, on the characters of men and wo- 
men, being the introductory part of this con- 
cluding book. 



?- 



EPISTLE I 



TO SIR RICHARD TEMPLE, LORD COBHAM 

OF THE KNOWLEDGE AND CHARACTERS 

OF MEN 

ARGUMENT 

I. That it is not sufficient for this knowledge to 
consider Man in the abstract ; Books will not 
serve the purpose, nor yet our own Experi- 
ence singly. General maxims, unless they 
be formed upon both, will be but notional. 
Some peculiarity in every man, characteristic 
to himself, yet varying from himself. Diffi- 
culties arising from our own Passions, Fan- 
cies, Faculties, &c. The shortness of Life 
to observe in, and the uncertainty of the 
Principles of action in men to observe by. 
Our own Principle of action often hid from 
ourselves. Some few Characters plain, but 
in general confounded, dissembled, or incon- 
sistent. The same man utterly different in 
different places and seasons. Unimaginable 
weaknesses in the greatest. Nothing constant 
and certain but God and Nature^. No judg'^ 
ing of the Motives from the actions ; the 
same actions proceeding from contrary Mo- 
tives, and the same Motives influencing con- 
trary actions. II. Yet to form Characters 
we can only take the strongest actions of a 
man's life, and ti*y to make them agree : the 
utter uncertainty of this, from Nature itself, 

._ and from Policy. Characters given accord- 

; ing to the rank of men of the world ; and 

' some reason for it. Education alters the Na- 
ture, or at least the Character, of many. Ac- 
tions, Passions, Opinions, Manners, Humours, 
or Principles, all subject to change. No 

r-judging by Nature. III. It only remains to 
find (if we can) his J Rulin g Passion: that 
will certainly influence all the rest, and can 

; reconcile the seeming or real inconsistency 
of all his actions. Instanced in the extra- 
ordinary character of Clodio. A caution 
against mistaking second qualities for first, 
which will destroy all possibility of the know- 
ledge of mankind. Examples of the strength 
of the Ruling Passion, and its continuation 

, to the last breath. 



Yes, you despise the man to books coii- 
fin'd, 

Who from his study rails at humankind; 

Tho' what he learns he speaks, and may 
advance 

Some gen'ral maxims, or be right by 
chance. 

The coxcomb bird, so talkative and grave, 

That from his cage cries cuckold, whore, 
and knave, 

Tho' many a passenger he rightly call, 

You hold him no philosopher at all. 

And yet the fate of all extremes is such, 

Men~ inay be read, as well as books, too\ 
nmch. lo^ 

To observations which ourselves we make, 

We grow more partial for th' observer's 
sake; 

To written wisdom, as another's, less: 

Maxims are drawn from Notions, those 
from Guess. 

There 's some peculiar in each leaf and 
grain. 

Some unmark'd fibre, or some varying vein. 

Shall only man be taken in the gross ? 

Grant but as many sorts of mind as moss. 
That each from other differs, first confess; 

Next, that he varies from himself no less: 

And Nature's, Custom's, Reason's, Pas- 
sion's strife, 21 

And all Opinion's colours cast on life. 
Our depths who fathoms, or our shallows 
finds, 

Quick whirls and shifting eddies of our 
minds ? 

On human actions reason tho' you can, \ 

It may be Reason, but it is not Man: / 

His Principle of action once explore. 

That instant 't is his Principle no more. 

Like following life thro' creatures you dis- 
sect, 

You lose it in the moment you detect. 30 
Yet more; the diff'rence is as great be- 
tween 

The optics seeing as the objects seen. 

All Manners take a tincture from our own. 

Or come discolonr'd thro' our Passions 
shown; 

Or Fancy's beam enlarges, multiplies, 

Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand 
dyes. 
Nor will life's stream for observation 
stay, 

It hurries all too fast to mark their way: 



'58 



MORAL ESSAYS 



In vain sedate reflections we would make, 
When half our knowledge we must snatch, 

not take. 40 

Oft in the Passions' wide rotation toss'd, 
Our spring of action to ourselves is lost: 
Tired, not determin'd, to the last we yield. 
And what comes then is master of the field. 
As the last image of that troubled heap. 
When Sense subsides, and Fancy sports in 

sleep 
(Tho' past the recollection of tbe thought), 
Becomes the stuff of which our dream is 

wrought : 
Something as dim to our internal view 49 
Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do. 
True, some are open, and to all men 

known ; 
Others so very close they 're hid from none 
(So darkness strikes the sense no less than 

light): 
Thus gracious Chandos is belov'd at sight; 
And ev'ry child hates Shylock, tho' his 

soul 
Still sits at squat, and peeps not from its 

hole. 
At half mankind when gen'rous Manly 

raves. 
All know 'tis virtue, for he thinks them 

knaves : 
When universal homage Umbra pays, 
All see 't is vice, and itch of vulgar praise. 
When Flatt'ry glares, all hate it in a 

Queen, 61 

While one there is who charms us with his 

spleen. 
But these plain Characters we rarely 

find; 
Tho' strong the bent, yet quick the turns 

of mind: 
Or puzzling contraries confound the whole; 
Or affectations quite reverse the soul. 
The dull flat falsehood serves for policy; 
And in the cunning truth itself 's a lie: 
Unthought-of frailties cheat us in the wise: 
The fool lies hid in inconsistencies. 70 

/ See the same man, in vigour, in the gout; 
Alone, in company, in place, or out; 
Early at bus'ness, and at hazard late. 
Mad at a fox-chase, wise at a debate. 
Drunk at a Borough, civil at a Ball, 
Friendly at Hackney, faithless at White- 
hall! 
Catius is ever moral, ever grave, 
\Thinks who endures a knave is next a 

knave, 



Save just at dinner — then prefers, no 

doubt, 
A rogue with ven'son to a saint without. 80 
Who would not praise Patricio's high 

desert. 
His hand unstain'd, his uncorrupted heart. 
His comprehensive head ? all int'rests 

weigh'd. 
All Europe saved, yet Britain notbetray'd! 
He thanks you not, his pride is in Piquet, 
Newmarket fame, and judgment at a bet. 
What made (say, Montaigne, or more 

sage Charrou) 
Otho a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon ? 
A perjured prince a leaden saint revere, 
A godless regent tremble at a star ? 90 

The throne a bigot keep, a genius quit. 
Faithless thro' piety, and duped thro' wit ? 
Europe a woman, child, or dotard, rule; 
And just her wisest monarch made a fool ? 
Know, God and Nature only are the\ 

same: i " y" 

In man the judgment shoots at flying game; 
A bird of passage ! gone as soon as found ; 
Now in the moon, perhaps now under 

ground. 



In vain the sage, with retrospective eye, 
Would from th' apparent What conclude 

the W^hy, 100 

Infer the Motive from the Deed, and show 
That what we chanced was what we meant 

to do. 
Behold! if Fortune or a Mistress frowns. 
Some plunge in bus'ness, others shave their 

crowns: 
To ease the soul of one oppressive weight, 
This quits an empire, that embroils a state. 
The same adust complexion has impell'd 
Charles to the convent, Philip to the field. 
Not always Actions show the man: we 

find 109 

Who does a kindness is not therefore kind; 
Perhaps Prosperity becalm'd his breast; 
Perhaps the wind just shifted from the 

■ east: 
Not therefore humble he who seeks retreat; 
Pride guides his steps, and bids him shun 

the great: 
Who combats bravely is not therefore 

brave; 
He dreads a death-bed like the meanest 

slave : 
Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise; 
His pride in reas'ning, not in acting, lies. 



MORAL ESSAYS 



159 



/ 



But grant that Actions best discover 

man; 
Take tlie most strong, and sort them as you 

can: 120 

The few that glare each character must 

mark; 
You balance not the many in the dark. 
What will you do with such as disagree ? 
Suppress them, or miscall them Policy ? 
Must then at once (the character to save) 
The plain rough hero turn a crafty knave ? 
AlaslJn-truth the man but changed his 

mind; 
Perhaps^ was sick, in love, or had not din'd. 
Ask why from Britain Caesar would re- 
treat ? 129 
Caesar himself might whisper he was beat. 
Why risk the world's great empire for a 

punk ? 
Caesar perhaps might answer, he was 

drunk. 
But, sage historians! 't is your task to prove 
One action. Conduct, one, heroic Love. 
'T is from high life high characters are 

drawn; 
A saint in crape is twice a saint in lawn; 
A judge is just, a chancellor j aster still; 
A gownman learn'd; a bishop what you 

will; 
Wise if a minister; but if a king, 
More wise, more learn'd, more just, more 

ev'rything. 140 

Court-virtues bear, like gems, the highest 

rate. 
Born where Heav'n's influence scarce can 

penetrate. 
In life's low vale, the soil the virtues like. 
They please as beauties, here as wonders 

strike. 
Tho' the same sun, with all-diffusive 

rays. 
Blush in the rose, and in the diamond 

blaze. 
We prize the stronger effort of his power. 
And justly set the gem above the flower. 

'Tjs_education forms the common mind; 
Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclin'd. 
Boastful and rough, your first son is a 

Squire; 151 

The next a Tradesman, meek, and much a 

liar; 
Tom struts a Soldier, open, bold, and 

brave ; 
Will sneaks a Scriv'ner, an exceeding 

knave. 



Is he a Churchman ? then he 's fond of 

power: 
A Quaker? sly: a Presbyterian? sour: 
A smart Free-thinker ? all things in an 

hour. 

Ask men's opinions! Scoto now shall tell 
How trade increases, and the world goes 

well: 
Strike off his pension by the setting sun, 160 
And Britain, if not Europe, is undone. 

That gay Free-thinker, a fine talker once. 
What turns him now a stupid silent dunce ? 
Some god or spirit he has lately found. 
Or chanced to meet a Minister that 

frown'd. 
Judge we by Nature ? Habit can efface, 1 
Int'rest o'ercome, or Policy take place: I 
By Actions ? those Uncertainty divides: i 
By Passions? these Dissimulation hides: 
Opinions ? they still take a wider range: 
Find, if you can, in what you cannot 

change. 171 

Manners with Fortunes, Humours turn 

with Climes, 
Tenets with Books, and Principles with 

Times. 



Search then the Ruling Passion: there 

alone, 
The wild are constant, and the cunning 

known ; 
The fool consistent, and the false sincere; 
Priests, princes, women, no dissemblers 

here. 
This clue once found unravels all the rest. 
The prospect clears, and Wharton stands 

confest: 
Wharton! the scorn and wonder of our 

days, ;8o 

Whose Ruling Passion was the lust of 

praise : 
Born with whate'er could win it from the 

wise. 
Women and fools must like him, or he dies: 
Tho' wond'ring Senates hung on all he 

spoke. 
The Club must hail him master of the joke. 
Shall parts so various aim at nothing new ? 
He '11 shine a TuUy and a Wilmot too: 
Then turns repentant, and his God adores 
With the same spirit that he drinks and 

whores; 
Enough if all around him but admire, 190 
And now the Punk applaud, and now the 

Friar. 



i6o 



MORAL ESSAYS 



Thus with each gift of Nature and of Art, 

And wanting nothing but an honest heart; 

Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt, 

And most contemptible, to shun contempt; 

His passion still to covet gen'ral praise; 

His life, to forfeit it a thousand ways; 

A constant bounty which no friend has 
made ; 

An angel tongue which no man can per- 
suade ! 

A fool with more of wit than half man- 
kind, 200 

Too rash for thought, for action too refin'd; 

A tyrant to the wife his heart approves; 

A rebel to the very king he loves — 

He dies, sad outcast of each church and 
state, 

And, harder still! flagitious, yet not great! 

Ask you why Wharton broke thro* ev'ry 
rule ? 

'T was all for fear the Knaves should call 
him Fool. 
Nature well known, no prodigies remain; 

Comets are regular, and Wharton plain. 
Yet in this search the wisest may mis- 
take, 210 

If second qualities for first they take. 

When Catiline by rapine swell'd his store, 

When Csesar made a noble dame a whore, 

In this the Lust, in that the Avarice 

Were means, not ends; Ambition was the 
vice. 

That very Cjesar, born in Scipio's days. 

Had aim'd, like him, by chastity at praise, 

Lucullus, when Frugality could charm, 

Had roasted turnips in the Sabine farm. 

In vain th' observer eyes the builder's toil, 

But quite mistakes the scaffold for the 
pile. 221 

In this one passion man can strength en- 
joy, 

As fits give vigour just when they destroy. 

Time, that on all things lays his lenient 
hand. 

Yet tames not this; it sticks to our last 
sand. 

Consistent in our follies and our sins, 

Here honest Nature ends as she begins. 
Old politicians chew on wisdom past, 

And totter on in bus'ness to the last; 

As weak, as earnest, and as gravely out 230 

As sober Lanesb'row dancing in the gout. 
Behold a rev'rend sire, whom want of 
grace 

Has made the father of a nameless race, 



Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely 

press'd 
By his own son, that passes by unbless'd; 
Still to his wench he crawls on knocking 

knees, 
And envies ev'ry sparrow that he sees. 

A salmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate; 
The doctor call'd, declares all help too 

late. 
' Mercy! ' cries Helluo, * mercy on my soul! 
Is there no hope ? — Alas ! — then bring 

the jowl.' 241 

The frugal crone, whom praying priestg~7« 

attend, / ? 

Still strives to save the hallow'd taper's "T 

end, ^ 

Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, ^- 
For one puff more, and in that puff ex- 
pires. 
'Odious! in woollen! 'twould a saint 

provoke ' 
(Were the last words that poor Narcissa, 

spoke) ; > 

' No, let a charming chintz and Brussels "*. 

lace \ 

Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my life- 
less face: 
One would not, sure, be frightful when ( 

one 's dead — 250 J 

And — Betty — give this cheek a little red.* ^ 
The courtier smooth, who forty years 

had shined 
An humble servant to all humankind, 
Just brought out this, when scarce his 

tongue could stir: — 
'If — where I'm going — I could serve 



you, sir 



9' 



* I give and I devise (old Euclio said, 
And sigh'd) my lands and tenements to 

Ned.' 
'Your money, sir?' — 'My money, sir! 

what, all ? 
Why — if I must — (then wept) I give it 

Paul.' 
'The manor, sir?' — 'The manor! hold,' 

he cried, 260 

' Not that — I cannot part with that ! ' — 

and died. 
And you, brave Cobham! to the latest 

breath 
Shall feel your Ruling Passion strong in 

death ; 
Such in those moments as in all the past, 
'O save my country, Heav'n!' shall be 

your last. 



MORAL ESSAYS 



EPISTLE II 



TO A LADY 



OF THE CHARACTEKS OF WOMEN 
ARGUMENT 

That the particular Characters of women are 
not so strongly marked as those of men, sel- 
dom so fixed, and still more inconsistent with 
themselves. Instances of contrarieties given, 
even from such Characters as are more 
strongly marked, and seemingly, therefore, 
most consistent : as, 1. In the atfected. 2. In 
the sof t-natured. 3. In the cunning and art- 
ful. 4 In the whimsical. 5. In the lewd 
and vicious. 6. In the witty and refined. 
7. In the stupid and simple. The former 
part having shown that the particular char- 
acters of women are more various than those 
of men, it is nevertheless observed that the 
general characteristic of the sex, as to the 
Ruling P^assion, is more uniform. This is 
occasioned partly by their Nature, partly by 
their Education, and in some degree by Ne- 
cessity. What are the aims and the fate of 
this sex : 1. As to Power. 2. As to Plea- 
sure. Advice for their true interest. The 
picture of an estimable woman, with the 
best kind of contrarieties. 

Nothing so true as what you once let 

fall, 
* Most women have no Characters at all : ' 
Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, 
And best distinguish'd by black, brown, or 

fair. 
How many pictures of one nymph we 

view, 
And how unlike each other, all how true! 
Arcadia's countess here, in ermined pride. 
Is there, Pastora by a fountain side: 
Here Fannia, leering on her own good man, 
And there a naked Leda with a swan. lo 
Let then the fair one beautifully cry, 
In Magdalen's loose hair and lifted eye; 
Or drest in smiles of sweet Cecilia shine. 
With simp'ring angels, palms, and harps 

divine; 
Whether the charmer sinner it, or saint it, 
If folly grow romantic, I must paint it. 
. Come, then, the colours and the ground 

prepare ; 
Dip in the rainbow, trick her off in air; 
Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it 
Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this 

minute. 20 



■ p...»v-^:fe^,,..^.U^^ ^^^ ' 



\/ 

^ Rufa, whose eye quick glancing o'er the 

park, 
Attracts each light gay meteor of a spark. 
Agrees as ill with Rufa studying Locke, 
As Sappho's diamonds with her dirty smock, 
Or Sappho at her toilet's greasy task. 
With Sappho fragrant at an ev'ning 

Masque : 
So morning insects, that in muck begun. 
Shine, buzz, and fly-blow in the setting sun. 

How soft is Silia! fearful to offend; 
The frail one's advocate, the weak one's 

friend. 30 

To her Calista proved her conduct nice, 
And good Simplicius asks of her advice. 
Sudden she storms! she raves! you tip the 

wink: 
But spare your censure; Silia does not 

drink. 
All eyes may see from what the change 

arose ; 
All eyes may see — a Pimple on her nose. 
/Papillia, wedded to her am'rous spark, 
Sighs for the shades — ' How charming is 

a park! ' 
A park is purchased; but the Fair he sees 
All bathed in tears — ' Oh, odious, odious 

trees!' 40 

Ladies, like variegated tulips, show; 
'T is to their changes half their charms we 

owe: 
Fine by defect, and delicately weak, 
Their happy spots the nice admirer take. 
'Twas thus Calypso once each heart 

alarm'd, 
Awed without virtue, without beauty 

charm'd ; 
Her tongue bewitch'd as oddly as her eyes; 
Less Wit than Mimic, more a Wit than 

wise. 
Strange graces still, and stranger flights, 

she had. 
Was just not ugly, and was just not mad; 50 
Yet ne'er so sure our passion to create. 
As when she touch'd the brink of all we 

hate. 
Narcissa's nature, tolerably mild. 
To make a wash would hardly stew a 

child; 
Has ev'n been prov'd to grant a lover's 

prayer. 
And paid a tradesman once to make him 

stare ; 
Gave alms at Easter in a Christian trim, 
And made a widow happy for a whim. 



l62 



MORAL ESSAYS 



Why then declare Good-nature is her 
scorn, 59 

When 't is by that alone she can be borne ? 
Why pique all mortals, yet affect a name ? 
A fool to Pleasure, yet a slave to Fame: 
Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Mar- 
tyrs, 
Now drinking citron with his Grace and 

Chartres: 
Now conscience chills her, and now passion 

burns, 
And atheism and religion take their turns : 
A very heathen in the carnal part, 
Yet still a sad good Christian at her heart. 
^ See Sin in state, majestically drunk, 
Proud aS'a peeress, prouder as a punk; 70 
Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside, 
A teeming mistress, but a barren bride. 
What then ? let blood and body bear the 

fault; 
Her head 's untouch'd, that noble seat of 

Thought: 
Such this day's doctrine — in another fit 
She sins with poets thro' pure love of Wit. 
What has not fired her bosom or her brain ? 
Caesar and Tall-boy, Charles and Charle- 
magne. 
As Helluo, late dictator of the feast. 
The nose of Hautgout, and the tip of Taste, 
Critiqued your wine, and analyzed your 
meat, 8i 

!et on plain pudding deign'd at home to 
eat: 
'So Philomede, lecturing all mankind 

>n the soft passion^ and the taste refin'd, 
The address, the delicacy — stoops at once, 
And makes her hearty meal upon a dunce. 
Flavia 's a Wit, has too much sense to 
pray; 
To toast our wants and wishes is her way; 
Nor asks of God, but of her stars, to give 
The mighty blessing ' while we live to 

live.' 
Then all for death, that opiate of 

soul ! 
Lucre tia's dagger, Rosamonda's bowl. 
Say, what can cause such impotence 

mind ? 

A Spark too fickle, or a Spouse too kind. 
Wise wretch! with pleasures too refin'd to 

please ; 
With too much spirit to be e'er at ease 5 
With too much quickness ever to be taught; 
With too much thinking to have common 
thought: 



90 
the 



of 



You purchase Pain with all that Joy can 

give. 
And die of nothing but a rage to live. 100 
Turn then from Wits, and look on Simo's 

mate. 
No ass so meek, no ass so obstinate: 
Or her that owns her faults but never 

mends. 
Because she 's honest, and the best of 

friends: 
Or her whose life the church and scandal 

share, 
For ever in a Passion or a Prayer: 
Or her who laughs at Hell, but (like her 

Grace) 
Cries, *Ah! how charming if there's no 

such place! ' 
Ov who in sweet vicissitude appears 109 

Of Mirth and Opium, Ratifie and Tears; 
The daily anodyne and nightly draught. 
To kill those foes to fair ones. Time and 

Thought. 
Woman and fool are two hard things to " 

hit; y 

For true No-meaning puzzles more than 

Wit. 
But what are these to great Atossa's 

mind ? 
Scarce once herself, by turns all woman- 
kind! 
Who with herself, or others, from her 

birth 
Finds all her life one warfare upon earth; 
Shines in exposing knaves and painting 

fools. 
Yet is whate'er she hates and ridicules; 120 
No thought advances, but her eddy brain 
Whisks it about, and down it goes again. 
Full sixty years the World has been her 

Trade, 
The wisest fool much time has ever made: 
Etom loveless youth to unrespected age,\ 
No passion gratified except her rage: 
So much the Fury still outran the Witj^ 
The pleasure miss'd her, and the scandal 

hit. 
Who breaks with her provokes revenge 

from Hell, 
But he 's a bolder man who dares be well. 
Her ev'ry turn with violence pursued, 131 
Nor more a storm her hate than gratitude: 
To that each Passion turns or soon or 

late; 
Love, if it makes her yield, must make her 

hatd. 



MORAL ESSAYS 



163 



Superiors ? death! and equals ? what a 
curse! 

But an inferior not dependent ? worse. 

Offend her, and she knows not to forgive; 

Oblige her, and she '11 hate you while you 
live: 

But die, and she '11 adore you — then the 
bust 

And temple rise — then fall again to dust. 

Last night her lord was all that 's good and 
great; 141 

A knave this morning, and his will a 
cheat. 

Strange! by the means defeated of the 
ends, 

By Spirit robb'd of power, by Warmth of 
friends, 

By Wealth of foll'wers! without one dis- 
tress, 

Sick of herself thro' very selfishness! 

Atossa, curs'd with ev'ry granted prayer, 

CWldless with all her children, wants an 
'^^' heir: 

To heirs unknown descends th' unguarded 
store. 

Or wanders, Heav'n-directed, to the poor. 
Pictures like these, dear Madam! to de- 
sign, ^ 151 

Asks no firm hand and no unerring line ; 

Some wand'ring touches, some reflected 
light. 

Some flying stroke, alone can hit 'em right: 

For how should equal colours do the knack ? 

Chameleons who can paint in white and 
black ? 
* Yet Chloe sure was form'd without a. 
lAyt (Vr-Y^xTspbt.' 
? Mature in her then err'd not, but forgot. . 

* With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, 

Say, what can Chloe want ? ' — She wants 
a Heart, 160 

She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she 
ought. 

But never, never reach'd one gen'rous 
thought. 

Virtue she finds too painful an endeavour, 

Content to dwell in decencies for ever. 

So very reasonable, so unmov'd. 

As never yet to love or to be lov'd. 

She, while her lover pants upon her breast, 

Can mark the figures on an Indian chest; 

And when she sees her friend in deep dcr 
spair, 

Observes how much a chintz exceeds mo- 
hair. 170 



Forbid it, Heav'n! a favour or a debt 

She e'er should cancel! — but she may for- 

Safe is your secret still in Chloe 's ear; 
But none of Chloe's shall you ever hear. 
Of all her Dears she never slander'd one, 
But cares not if a thousand are undone. 
Would Chloe know if you 're alive or dead ? 
She bids her footman put it in her head. 
Chloe is prudent — Would you too be wise ? 
Then never break your heart when Chloe 

dies. 180 

One certain portrait may (I grant) be 

seen, 
Which Heav'n has varnish'd out and made 

a queen; 
The same for ever! and described by all 
With truth and goodness, as with crown 

and ball. 
Poets heap virtues, painters gems, at will. 
And siiow their zeal, and hide their want of 

skill. 
'Tis well — but, artists! who can paint or 

write. 
To draw the naked is your true delight. 
That robe of Quality so struts and swells. 
None see what parts of Nature it conceals: 
Th' exactest traits of body or of mind, 191 
We owe to models of an humble kind. 
If Queensbury to strip there 's no compel- 
ling, 
'T is from a handmaid we must take a 

Helen. 
From peer or bishop 't is no easy thing 
To draw the man who loves his God or 

king. 
Alas! I copy (or my draught would fail) 
From honest Mah'met or plain parson Hale. 
But grant, in public, men sometimes are 

shown ; 
A woman's seen in private life alone: 200 
Our bolder talents in full light display'd; 
Your virtues open fairest in the shade. 
Bred to disguise, in public 't is you hide; 
There none distinguish 'twixt your shame 

or pride, 
Weakness or delicacy; all so nice, 
That each may seem a Virtue or a Vice. 

In men we various Ruling Passions find; 
In women two almost divide the kind; 
Those only fix'd, they first or last obey, 
ThfiJbve-of Pleasure, and the love of Sway. 
That Nature gives; and where the lesson 

taught 2 1 1 

Is but to please, can Pleasure seem a fault?. 



164 



MORAL ESSAYS 



Experience this: by man's oppression curst, 
They seek the second not to lose the first. 
Men some to bus'ness, some to pleasure 

take; 
But ev'ry woman is at heart a rake : 
Men some to quiet, some to public strife; 
But ev'ry lady would be queen for life. 
Yet mark the fate of a whole sex of 

queens! 
Power all their end, but Beauty all the 

means. 220 

In youth they conquer with so wild a rage. 
As leaves them scarce a subject in their 

age: 
For foreign glory, foreign joy they roam; 
No thought of peace or happiness at home. 
But wisdom's triumph is well-timed retreat, 
As hard a science to the Fair as Great! 
Beauties, like tyrants, old and friendless 

grown, 
Yet hate repose, and dread to be alone; 
Worn out in public, weary ev'ry eye. 
Nor leave one sigh behind them when they 

die. 230 

Pleasures the sex, as children birds, pur- 
sue, 
Still out of reach, yet never out of view; 
Sure, if they catch, to spoil the toy at 

most, 
To covet flying, and regret when lost: 
At last to follies youth could scarce de- 
fend. 
It grows their age's prudence to pretend; 
Ashamed to own they gave delight before, 
Reduced to feign it when they give no more. 
As hags hold Sabbaths less for joy than 

spite, 
So these their merry miserable night; 240 
Still round and round the Ghosts of Beauty 

glide. 
And haunt the places where their Honour 

died. 
See how the world its veterans rewards! 
A youth of frolics, an old age of cards; 
Fair to no purpose, artful to no end. 
Young without lovers, old without a friend; 
A Fop their passion, but their prize a Sot, 
Alive ridiculous, and dead forgot! 

Ah! friend! to dazzle let the vain design; 
To raise the thought and touch the heart be 

thine! 250 

That charm shall grow, while what fatigues 

the Ring 
Flaunts and goes down an unregarded 

thinsr. 



So when the sun's broad beam has tired the 

sight. 
All mild ascends the moon's more sober 

Serene in virgin modesty she shines, 
And unobserv'd the glaring orb declines. 
O! blest with temper, whose un- 
clouded ray 257 
Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day; 
She who can love a sister's charms, or hear 
Sighs for a daughter with un wounded ear; 
She who ne'er answers till a husband cools. 
Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules; 
Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, 
Yet has her humour most when she obeys; 
Let Fops or Fortune fly which way they 

will. 
Disdains all loss of tickets or Codille; 
Spleen, Vapours, or Smallpox, above them 

all. 
And mistress of herself, tho' china fall. 

And yet believe me, good as well as ill, 
Woman 's at best a contradiction still. 270 
Heav'n when it strives to polish all it can 
Its last best work, but forms a softer 

Man; 
Picks from each sex to make the fav'rite 

blest, 
Your love of pleasure, our desire of rest;- 
Blends, in exception to all gen'ral rules. 
Your taste of follies with our scorn of fools ; 
Reserve with Frankness, Art with Truth 

allied. 
Courage with Softness, Modesty with Pride; 
Fix'd principles, with fancy ever new: 279 
Shakes all together, and produces — You. 
Be this a woman's fame; with this un- 

blest. 
Toasts live a scorn, and Queens may die a 

jest. 
This PhoBbus promis'd (I forget the year) 
When those blue eyes first open'd on the 

sphere ; 
Ascendant Phoebus watch'd that hour with 

care, 
Averted half your parents' simple prayer, 
And gave you beauty, but denied the pelf 
That buys your sex a tyrant o'er itself. 
The gen'rous God, who wit and gold re- 
fines, 
And ripens spirits as he ripens mines, 290 
Kept dross for Duchesses, the world shall 

know it. 
To you gave Sense, Grood-humour, and a 

Poet. 



..>K-fcA^ 



Vi-v«<«^.>wn,*w 



<<,AA-<W(.M«#*«<-' \^ A. 



MORAL ESSAYS 



i6s 



EPISTLE Til 

TO ALLEN, LORD BATHURST 

OF THE USE OF KICHES 

ARGUMENT 

That it is known to few, most falling into one 
of the extremes, Avarice or Profusion. The 
point discussed, whether the invention of 
/taoney has been more commodious or perni- 
NqIous to mankind. That Riches, either to the 
Avaricious or the Prodigal, cannot aflEord, 
happiness, scarcely necessaries. That Ava- 
rice is an absolute frenzy, without an end or 
purpose. Conjectures about the motives of 

f avaricious men. That the conduct of men, 
with respect to Riches, can only be accounted 
for by the Order of Providence, which works 
the general good out of extremes, and brings 
all to its great end by perpetual revolutions. 
How a Miser acts upon principles which ap- 
pear to him reasonable. How a Prodigal 
does the same. The due medium and true 
use of riches. The Man of Ross. The fate 
of the Profuse and the Covetous, in two ex- 
amples ; both miserable in life and in death. 
The story of Sir Balaam. 

P, Who shall decide when doctors dis- 
agree, 
And soundest casuists doubt, like you and 

me? 
You hold the word from Jove to Momus 

giv'n. 
That Man was, made the standing jestj)f 

Heav^ " 

And gold but sent to keep the fools in 

play, 
For some to heap, and some to throw away. 
But I, who think more highly of our 

kind 
(And surely Heav'n and I are of a mind). 
Opine that Nature, as in duty bound. 
Deep hid the shining mischief under 

grotmd: lo 

But when by man's audacious labour won, 
Flamed forth this rival to its sire the sun, 
/^hen careful Heav'n supplied two sorts of 

men. 
To squander these, and those to hide again. 
Like doctors thus, when much dispute 

has past. 
We find our tenets just the same at last: 
Both fairly owning riches, in effect. 
No grace of Heav'n, or token of th' elect; 



Giv'n to the fool, the mad, the vain, the evil, 

To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the 

Devil. 20 

B, What Nature wants, commodious 

gold bestows; / 

'T is thus we eat the bread another sows. ^'' 

P. But how unequal it bestows, observe ; 
'T is thus we riot, while who sow it starve. 
What Nature wants (a phrase I much dis- 
trust) 
Extends to luxury, extends to lust. 
Useful I grant, it serves what life requires, 
But dreadful too, the dark assassin hires. 
B. Trade it may help, Society extend. 
P. But lures the pirate, and corrupts 
the friend. 30 

B. It raises armies in a nation's aid. 
P. But bribes a senate, and the land 's 
betray'd. 
In vain may heroes fight and patriots rave, 
If secret gold sap on from knave to knave. 
Once, we confess, beneath the patriot's 

cloak. 
From the crack'd bag the dropping guinea 

spoke. 
And jingling down the back-stairs, told the 
crew 

* Old Cato is as great a rogue as you.' 
Blest paper-credit ! last and best supply ! 
That lends Corruption lighter wings to 

fly! 40 

Gold imp'd by thee, can compass hardest 
things. 

Can pocket states, can fetch or carry kings; 

A single leaf shall waft an army o'er. 

Or ship off senates to some distant shore; 

A leaf, like Sibyl's, scatter to and fro 

Our fates and fortunes as the winds shall 
blow; 

Pregnant with thousands flits the scrap un- 
seen, 

And silent sells a King or buys a Queen. 
Oh, that such bulky bribes as all might 
see, 

Still, as of old, incumber'd villany ! 50 

Could France or Rome divert our brave de- 
signs 

With all their brandies or with all their 
wines ? 

What could they more than Knights and 
Squires confound. 

Or water all the Quorum ten miles round ? 

A statesman's slumbers how this speech 
would spoil, 

* Sir, Spain has sent a thousand jars of oil ; 



-M-vt 



i66 



MORAL ESSAYS 



Huge bales of British cloth blockade the 

door; 
A hundred oxen at your levee roar.' 

Poor Avarice one torment more would 

find, 59 

Nor could Profusion squander all in kind. 
Astride his cheese Sir Morgan might we 

meet; 
And Worldly crying coals from street to 

street, 
Whom with a wig so wild and mien so 

'mazed, 
Pity mistakes for some poor tradesman 

crazed. 
Had Colepepper's whole wealth been hops 

and hogs, 
Could he himself have sent it to the dogs ? 
His Grace will game: to White's a bull be 

led, 
With spurning heels and with a butting 

head. 
To White's be carried, as to ancient games, 
Fair coursers, vases, and alluring dames. 70 
Shall then Uxorio, if the stakes he sweep, 
Bear home six whores, and make his lady 

weep ? 
Or soft Adonis, so perfumed and fine. 
Drive to St. James's a whole herd of 

swine ? 
Oh, filthy check on all industrious skill, 
To spoil the nation's last great trade, — 

Quadrille! 
Since then, my lord, on such a world we 

fall. 
What say you ? B. Say ? Why, take it, 

gold and all. 
P. What Riches give us let us then in- 
quire : 
Meat, Fire, and Clothes. B. What more ? 

P. Meat, Clothes, and Fire. 80 

Is this too little ? would you more than 

live? 
Alas! 'tis more than Turner finds, they 

give. 
Alas! 't is more than (all his visions past) 
Unhappy Wharton waking found at last! 
What can they give ? To dying Hopkins, 

heirs ? 
To Chartres, vigour? Japhet, nose and 

ears? 
Can they in gems bid pallid Hippia glow ? 
In Fulvia's buckle ease the throbs below ? 
Or heal, old Narses, thy obscener ail, 
With all th' embroidery plaster'd at thy 

tail ? 90 



They might (were Harpax not too wise to 

spend) 
Give Harpax' self the blessing of a friend; 
Or find some doctor that would save the 

life 
Of wretched Shylock, spite of Shylock's 

wife. 
Butthousands die^ without or this or that, 
Die, aHxt endow a College or a Cat. 
To some indeed Heav'n grants the happier 

fate 
T' enrich a bastard ; or a son they hate. 
Perhaps you think the poor might have\ 

their part ? \ 

Bond damns the poor, and hates them from \ 

his heart: 100 \ 

The grave Sir Gilbert holds it for a rule / 
That ev'ry man in want is knave or fool. /' 
' God cannot love (says Blunt, with tearless 

eyes) 
The wretch he starves ' — and piously de- 
nies: 
But^the good bishop, with a meeker air, 
Admits, and leaves them. Providence's 

care. 
Yet, to be just to these poor men of 

pelf, 
Each does but hate his neighbour as him- 
self: 
Damn'd to the mines, an equal fate betides 
The slave that digs it and the slave that 

hides. no 

B. Who suffer thus, mere charity should 

own, 
Must act on motives powerful tho' un- 
known. 
P. Some war, some plague or famine, 

they foresee. 
Some revelation hid from you and me. 
Why Shylock wants a meal the cause is 

found; 
He thinks a loaf will rise to fifty pound. 
What made directors cheat in South-sea / 

year ? 
To live on ven'son, when it sold so dear. 
Ask you why Phryne the whole auction 

buys? 
Phryne foresees a general excise. 120 

Why she and Sappho raise that monstrous «/ 

sum ? 
Alas! they fear a man will cost a plum. 
Wise Peter sees the world's respect for 

gold. 
And therefore hopes this nation may be 

sold. 



MORAL ESSAYS 



167 



Glorious ambition! Peter, swell thy store, 
And be what Rome's great Didius was 
before. 
The crown of Poland, venal twice an age, 
To just three millions stinted modest Gage. 
But nobler scenes Maria's dreams unfold, 
Hereditary realms, and worlds of gold. 130 
Congenial souls ! whose life one av'rice 

joins, 
And one fate buries in th' Asturian mines. 
Much-injured Blunt! why bears he Brit- 
ain's hate ? 
A wizard told hira in these words our 

fate: 
* At length Corruption, like a gen'ral flood 
(So long by watchful ministers withstood). 
Shall deluge all; and Av'rice, creeping on. 
Spread like a low-born mist and blot the 

sun; 
Statesman and Patriot ply alike the stocks, 
Peeress and Butler share alike the Box, 140 
And judges job, and bishops bite the town, 
And mighty Dukes pack cards for half a 

crown: 
See Britain sunk in lucre's sordid charms, 
And France revenged of Anne's and Ed- 
ward's arms! ' 
'T was no court-badge, great Scriv'ner! fired 

thy brain, 
Nor lordly luxury,- nor city gain: 
No, 't was thy righteous end, ashamed to 

see 
Senates degen'rate, patriots disagree, 
And nobly wishing party-rage to cease, 
To buy both sides, and give thy country 
peace. 150 

'All this is madness,' cries a sober sage: 
' But who, my friend, has Reason in his 

rage ? 
The Ruling Passion, be it what it will, 
The Ruling Passion conquers Reason still.' 
Less mad the wildest whimsy we can 

frame 
Than ev'n that Passion, if it has no aim; 
For tho' such motives folly you may call, 
The folly 's greater to have none at all. 
Hear then the truth: — ' 'T is Heav'n 
each Passion sends, 159 

And diff'rent men directs to diff'rent ends. 
Extremes in Nature equal good produce; 
Extremes in Man concur to gen'ral use.' 
Ask me what makes one keep, and one be- 
stow ? 
That power who bids the ocean ebb and 
flow, 



Bids seed-time, harvest, equal course main- 
tain. 
Thro' reconciled extremes of drought and 

rain ; 
Builds life on death, on change duration 

founds, 
And gives th' eternal wheels to know their 

rounds. 
Riches, like insects, when conceal'd they 

lie, 169 

Wait but for wings, and in their season fly. 
Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his 

store, 
Sees but a backward steward for the poor; 
This year a reservoir to keep and spare; 
The next a fountain spouting thro' his heir 
In lavish streams to quench a country's 

thirst. 
And men and dogs shall drink him till they 

burst. 
Old Cotta shamed his fortune and his 

birth. 
Yet was not Cotta void of wit or worth. 
What tho' (the use of barb'rous spits for- 

His kitchen vied in coolness with his grot ? 
His court with nettles, moats with cresses 

stor'd, 181 

With soups unbought, and salads, bless'd 

his board; 
If Cotta lived on pulse, it was no more 
Than Bramins, Saints, and Sages did before; 
To cram the rich was prodigal expense. 
And who would take the poor from Provi- 
dence ? 
Like some lone Chartreux stands the good 

old hall. 
Silence without, and fasts within the wall; 
No rafter'd roofs with dance and tabor 

sound, 
No noontide bell invites the country round; 
Tenants with sighs the smokeless towers 

survey, 191 

And turn th' unwilling steeds another way; 
Benighted wanderers, the forest o'er, 
Curse the saved candle and unopening door; 
While the gaunt mastiff, growling at the 

gate. 
Affrights the beggar whom he longs to eat. 
Not so his son; he mark'd this oversight. 
And then mistook reverse of wrong for 

right : 
(For what to shun will no great knowledge 

need 
But what to follow is a task indeed !) 200 



i68 



MORAL ESSAYS 



Yet sure, of qualities deserving praise, 
More go to ruin fortunes than to raise. 
What slaughter'd hecatombs, what floods 

of wine, 
Fill the capacious Squire and deep Divine! 
Yet no mean motive this profusion draws; 
His oxen perish in his country's cause; 
'Tis George and Liberty that crowns the 

cup, 
And zeal for that great House which eats 

him up. 
The woods recede around the naked seat, 
The sylvans groan — no matter — for the 

fleet; 210 

Next goes his wool — to clothe our valiant 

bands; 
Last, for his country's love, he sells his 

lands. 
To town he comes, completes the nation's 

hope. 
And heads the bold train-bands, and burns 

a pope. 
And shall not Britain now reward his toils, 
Britain, that pays her patriots with her 

spoils ? 
In vain at court the bankrupt pleads his 

cause; 
His thankless country leaves him to her laws. 
The sense to value Riches, with the art 
T' enjoy them, and the virtue to impart; 
Not meanly nor ambitiously pursued, 221 
Not sunk by sloth, nor raised by servitude; 
To balance fortune by a just expense, 
Join with economy magnificence; 
"With splendour charity, with plenty health ; 
O teach us, Bathurst! yet unspoil'd by 

wealth, 
That secret rare, between th' extremes to 

move 
Of mad Good-nature and of mean Self-love. 
B. To worth or want well weigh'd be 

bounty giv'n 
And ease or emulate the care of Heav'n 
(Whose measure full o'erflows on human 

race): 231 

Mend Fortune's fault, and justify her grace. 
Wealth in the gross is death, but life dif- 
fused, 
As poison heals in just proportion used: 
In heaps, like ambergris, a stink it lies, 
But well dispers'd is incense to the skies. 
P. Who starves by nobles, or with nobles 

eats ? 
The wretch that trusts them, and the rogue 

that cheats. 



Is there a lord who knows a cheerful noon 
Without a fiddler, flatt'rer, or buffoon ? 240 
Whose table Wit or modest Merit share, 
Unelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player ? 
Who copies yours or Oxford's better part. 
To ease th' oppress'd, and raise the sinking 

heart ? 
Where'er he shines, O Fortune! gild the 

scene, 
And angels guard him in the golden mean! 
There English bounty yet a while may 

stand. 
And honour linger ere it leaves the land. 
But all our praises why should Lords en- 
gross ? 
Rise, honest Muse! and sing the Man of 

Ross: 250 

Pleas'd Vaga echoes thro' her winding 

bounds. 
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds. 
Who hung with woods yon mountain's sul- 
try brow ? 
From the dry rock who bade the waters 

flow? 
Not to the skies in useless columns tost. 
Or in proud falls magnificently lost. 
But clear and artless, pouring thro' the 

plain 
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. 
Whose causeway parts the vale with shady 

rows ? 
Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? 260 
Who taught that Heav'n-directed spire to 

rise ? 
The Man of Ross, each lisping babe replies. 
Behold the market-place with poor o'er- 

spread ! 
The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread : 
He feeds yon almshouse, neat, but void of 

state. 
Where age and want sit smiling at the 

gate: 
Him portion'd maids, apprenticed orphans 

blest. 
The young who labour, and the old who 

rest. 
Is any sick ? the Man of Ross relieves, 
Prescribes, attends, the medicine makes 

and gives: 270 

Is there a variance ? enter but his door, 
Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no 

more: 
Despairing quacks with curses fled the 

place, 
And vile attorneys, now a useless race. 



MORAL ESSAYS 



169 



B. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue 

What all so wish, but want the power to 
do! 

Oh say, what sums that gen'rous hand 
supply ? 

What mines to swell that boundless 
charity ? 
P. Of debts and taxes, wife and children 
clear, 

This man possess'd — five hundred pounds 
a year. 280 

Blush, Grandeur, blush! proud courts, with- 
draw your blaze! 

Ye littlQ stars, hide your diminish'd rays! 
B. And what ? no monument, inscrip- 
tion, stone. 

His race, his form, his name almost un- 
known ? 
P. Who builds a church to God, and not 
to Fame, 

Will never mark the marble with his name: 

Go, search it there, where to be born and 
die. 

Of rich and poor makes all the history; 

Enough that Virtue fiU'd the space be- 
tween, 

Prov'd by the ends of being to have been. 

When Hopkins dies, a thousand lights at- 
tend 291 

The wretch who living saved a candle's 
end: 

Should'ring God's altar a vile image stands. 

Belies his features, nay, extends his hands; 

That livelong wig, which Gorgon's self 
might own. 

Eternal buckle takes in Parian stone. 
Behold what blessings Wealth to life can 
lend! 

And see what comfort it affords our end. 
'In the worst inn's worst room, with mat 
\ half-hung, 

The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung. 

On once a flock-bed, but repair 'd with 
straw, 301 

With tape-tied curtains, never meant to 
draw. 

The George and Garter dangling from that 
bed 

Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red. 

Great Villiers lies — alas! how changed 
irom him. 

That life of pleasure and that soul of 
whim! 

Gallant and gay, in Cliveden's proud alcove, 

The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and Love; 



A 



Or just as gay at council, in a ring 
Of mimic statesmen and their merry King. 
No Wit to flatter, left of all his store — 311 
No Fool to laugh at, which he valued 

more — 
There, victor of his health, of fortune, 

friends. 
And fame, this lord of useless thousands 

ends! 
His Grace's fate sage Cutler could fore- 
see. 
And well (he thought ) advised him, ' Live 

like me.' 
And well his Grace replied, * Like you, 

Sir John ? 
That I can do when all I have is gone ! ' 
Resolve me. Reason, which of these is worse. 
Want with a full or with an empty purse ? 
Thy life more wretched. Cutler! was con- 

fess'd; 321 

Arise, and tell me, was thy death more 

bless'd ? 
Cutler saw tenants break and houses fall. 
For very want; he could not build a wall: 
His only daughter in a stranger's power, 
For very want; he could not pay a dower: 
A few gray hairs his rev'rend temples 

crown'd; 
'T was very want that sold them for two 

pound. 
What ev'n denied a cordial at his end, 
Banish'd the doctor, and expell'd the 

friend ? 330 

What but a want, which you perhaps think 

mad. 
Yet numbers feel, — the want of what he 

had! 
Cutler and Brutus dying both exclaim, 
'Virtue! and wealth! what are ye but a 

name ! ' 
Say, for such worth are other worlds 

prepared ? 
Or are they both in this their own reward ? 
A knotty point! to which we now proceed. 
But you are tired — I'll tell a tale — B. 

Agreed. 
P. Where London's column, pointing at 

the skies, 
Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies, 340 
There dwelt a citizen of sober fame, 
A plain good man, and Balaam was his 

name. 
Religious, punctual, frugal, and so forth, 
His word would pass for more than he was 

worth; 



170 



MORAL ESSAYS 



One solid dish his week-day meal affords, 
An added pudding solemnized the Lord's; 
Constant at Church and 'Change; his gains 

were sure, 
His givings rare, save farthings to the poor. 
The Devil was piqued such saiutship to 

behold, 
And loug'd to tempt him like good Job of 

old; 350 

But Satan now is wiser than of yore. 
And tempts by making rich, not making 

poor. 
Rous'd by the Prince of Air, the whirl- 
winds sweep 
The surge, and plunge his father in the 

deep; 
Then full against his Cornish lands they 

roar, 
And two rich shipwrecks bless the lucky 

shore. 
Sir Balaam now, he lives like other folks. 
He takes his chirping pint, and cracks his 

jokes. 
'Live like yourself,' was soon my lady's 

word; 
And lo! two puddings smoked upon the 

board. 360 

Asleep and naked as an Indian lay, 
An honest factor stole a gem away: 
He pledg'd it to the knight; the knight had 

wit. 
So kept the diamond, and the rogue was bit. 
Some scruple rose, but thus he eas'd his 

thought : 
* I '11 now give sixpence where I gave a 

groat ; 
Where once I went to church I'll now go 

twice — 
And am so clear too of all other vice.' 
The tempter saw his time; the work he 

plied; 
Stocks and subscriptions pour on ev'ry 

side, 370 

Till all the demon makes his full descent 
In one abundant shower of cent per cent. 
Sinks deep within him, and possesses whole. 
Then dubs Director, and secures his soul. 

Behold Sir Balaam, now a man of Spirit, 
Ascribes his gettings to his parts and merit; 
What late he call'd a blessing now was wit, 
And God's good providence a lucky hit. 
Things change their titles as our manners 

turn, 
His counting-house employ'd the Sunday 

morn: 380 



Seldom at church ('t was such a busy 
life). 

But duly sent his family and wife. 

There (so the Devil ordain' d) one Christ- 
mas-tide 

My good old lady catch'd a cold and died. 
A nymph of quality admires our knight; 

He marries, bows at court, and grows po- 
lite; 

Leaves the dull cits, and joins (to please 
the fair) 

The well-bred cuckolds in St. James's air: 

First for his son a gay commission buys. 

Who drinks, whores, fights, and in a duel 
dies; 390 

His daughter flaunts a viscount's tawdry 
wife; 

She bears a coronet and p — x for life. 

In Britain's senate he a seat obtains. 

And one more pensioner St. Stephen 
gains. 

My lady falls to play; so bad her chance, 

He must repair it; takes a bribe from 
France: 

The house impeach him; Coningsby ha- 
rangues ; 

The court forsake him, and Sir Balaam 
hangs. 

Wife, son, and daughter, Satan ! are thy 
own. 

His wealth, yet dearer, forfeit to the 
crown : 400 

The Devil and the King divide the prize. 

And sad Sir Balaam curses God and dies. 



EPISTLE IV 

TO RICHARD BOYLE, EARL OF BURLINGTON 

OF THE USE OF RICHES 

ARGUMENT 

The vanity of Expense in people of wealth and 
quality. The abuse of the word Taste. That 
the first principle and foundation in this, as 
in every thing' else, is Good Sense. The chief 
proof of it is to follow Nature7even in works 
of mere luxury and elegance. Instanced in 
Architecture and Gardening, where all must 
be adapted to the genius and use of the 
place, and the beauties not forced into it, 
but resulting' from it. How men are dis- 
appointed in their most expensive undertak- 
ings for want of this true foiindation, without 
which nothing can please long, if at all ; and 



MORAL ESSAYS 



171 



the best examples and rules will but be per- 
verted into something' burdensome and ridic- 
eulous. A description of the false taste of 
Magnificence ; the first grand error of which 
is to imagine that greatness consists in the 
/ size and dimension, instead of the proportion 
and harmony, of the whole ; and the second, 
either in joining together parts incoherent, 
or too minutely resembling, or, in the repeti- 
tion of the same too frequently. A word or 
two of false taste in books, in music, in paint- 
ing, even in preaching and prayer, and lastly 
in entertainments. Yet Providence is justi- 
fied in giving wealth to be squandered in this 
manner, since it is dispersed to the poor and 
laborious part of mankind. [Recurring to 
what is laid down in the first book, ep. ii. 
and in the epistle preceding this.] What are 
the proper objects of Magnificence, and a 
proper field for the expense of great men. 
And, finally, the great and public works 
which become a Prince. 

'T is strange the Miser should his cares 

employ 
To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy: 
Is it less strange the Prodigal should waste 
His wealth to purchase what he ne'er can 

taste ? 
Not for himself he sees, or hears, or eats; 
Artists must choose his pictures, music, 

meats: 
He buys for Topham drawings and designs; 
For Pembroke statues, dirty gods, and 

coins ; 
Rare monkish manuscripts for Hearne 

alone. 
And books for Mead, and butterflies for 

Sloane. 10 

Think we all these are for himself ? no 

more 
Than his fine wife, alas ! or finer whore. 
For what has Virro painted, built, and 

planted ? 
Only to show how many tastes he wanted. 
What brought Sir Yisto's ill-got wealth to 

waste ? 
Some demon whisper'd, ' Visto ! have a 

Taste.' 
Heav'n visits with a Taste the wealthy fool. 
And needs no rod but Ripley with a rule. 
See ! sportive Fate, to punish awkward 

pride. 
Bids Bubo build, and sends him such a 

guide : 20 

A standing sermon at each year's expense. 
That never coxcomb reach'd Magnificence ! 



You show us Rome was glorious, not 
profuse, 
And pompous buildings once were things 

of use; 
Yet shall, my Lord, your just, your noble 

rules 
Fill half the land with imitating fools; 
Who random drawings from your sheets 

shall take. 
And of one Beauty many Blunders make; 
Load some vain church with old theatric 

state. 
Turn arcs of triumph to a garden gate; 30 
Reverse your ornaments, and hang them all 
On some patch'd dog-hole eked with ends 

of wall. 
Then clap four slices of pilaster on 't, 
That laced with bits of rustic makes a front; 
Shall call the wind^ thro' long arcades to 

roar, 
Proud to catch cold at a Venetian door: 
Conscious they act a true Palladian part. 
And if they starve, they starve by rules of 
Art. _ 

Oft have you hinted to your brother peer 
A certain truth, which many buy too dear: 
Something there is more needful than ex- 
pense, 41 
And something previous ev'n to Taste — 

'tis Sense; 
Good Sense, which only is the gift of 

Heav'n, 
And tho' no s cience, fairly worth the sev'ij ; 
A light which in yourself you must per- 
ceive; 
Jones and Le Notre have it not to give. 

To build, to plant, whatever you intend. 
To rear the column, or the arch to bend, 
To swell the terrace, or to sink the grot, 
In all, let Nature never be forgot. 50 

But treat the Goddess like a modest Fair, 
Nor overdress, nor leave her wholly bare; 
Let not each beauty everywhere be spied, 
Where half the skill is decently to hide. 
He gains all points who pleasingly con- 
founds, 
Surprises, varies, and conceals the bounds. 

Consult the genius of the place in all; 
That tells the waters or to rise or fall ; 
Or helps th' ambitious hill the heav'ns to 

scale. 
Or scoops in circling theatres the vale, 60 
Calls in the country, catches opening glades. 
Joins willing woods, and varies shades from 
shades, 



172 



MORAL ESSAYS 



Now breaks, or now directs, th' intending 

lines; 
Paints as you plant, and as you work de- 
signs. 
Still follow Sense, of every art the soul; 
Parts answering parts shall slide into a 

whole, 
Spontaneous beauties all around advance. 
Start ev'n from difficulty, strike from 

chance : 
Nature shall join you; time shall make it 

grow 
A work to wonder at — perhaps a Stowe. 70 
"Without it, proud Versailles! thy glory 

falls, 
And Nero's terraces desert their walls: 
The vast parterres a thousand hands shall 

make, 
Lo! Cobhani comes, and floats them with 

a lake; 
Or cut wide views thro' mountains to the 

plain. 
You '11 wish your hill or shelter'd seat 

again. 
Ev'n in an ornament its place remark, 
Nor in a hermitage set JDr. Clarke. 

Behold Villario's ten years' toil com- 
plete : 
His quincunx darkens, his espaliers meet, 
The wood supports the plain, the parts 

unite, 81 

And strength of shade contends with 

strength of light; 
A waving glow the bloomy beds display, 
Blushing in bright diversities of day, 
With silver quiv'ring rills meander'd o'er — 
Enjoy them, you! Yillario can no more: 
Tired of the scene parterres and fountains 

yield, 
He finds at last he better likes a field. 
Thro' his young woods how pleased 

Sabinus stray'd. 
Or sat delighted in the thick'ning shade, 90 
With annual joy the redd'ning shoots to 

greet. 
Or see the stretching branches long to meet. 
His son's fine Taste an opener vista loves, 
Foe to the drj'ads of his father's groves; 
One boundless green or flourish'd carpet 

views, 
With all the mournful family of yews; 
The thriving plants, ignoble broomsticks 

made, 
Now sweep those alleys they were born to 

shade. 



At Timon's villa let us pass a day. 
Where all cry out, * What sums are thrown 

away ; ' 100 

So proud, so grand; of that stupendous 

air, 
Soft and agreeable come never there;. 
Greatness with Timon dwells in such a 

draught 
As brings all Brobdingnag before your 

thought. 
To compass this, his building is a town, 
His pond an ocean, his parterre a down: 
Who but must laug'h, the master when he 

sees, 
A puny insect shiv'ring at a breeze! 108 

Lo, what huge heaps of littleness around! 
The whole a labour'd quarry above ground. 
Two Cupids squirt before: a lake behind 
Improves the keenness of the northern 

wind. 
His gardens next your admiration call; 
On every side you look, behold the wall! 
No pleasing intricacies intervene; 
No artful wildness to perplex the scene; 
Grove nods at grove, each alley has a 

brother. 
And half the platform just reflects the 

other. 
The suff'ring eye inverted Nature sees, 119 
Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees; 
With here a fountain never to be play'd. 
And there a summer-house that knows no 

shade, 
Here Amphitrite sails thro' myrtle bowers, 
There gladiators fight or die in flowers; 
Unwater'd, see the drooping seahorse 

mourn, 
And swallows roost in Nilus' dusty urn. 

My Lord advances with majestic mien, 
Smit with the mighty pleasure to be seen: 
But soft! by regular approach — not yet — 
First thro' the length of yon hot terrace 

sweat; 130 

And when up ten steep slopes you 've 

dragg'd your thighs. 
Just at his study door he '11 bless your eyes. 
His study! with what authors is it stor'd ? 
In books, not authors, curious is my lord. 
To all their dated backs he turns you 

round ; 
These Aldus printed, those Du Sueil has 

bound ; 
Lo, some are vellum, and the rest as good. 
For all his lordship knows, — but they are 

wood. 



MORAL ESSAYS 



173 



For Locke or Milton 't is in vain to look; 
These shelves admit not any modern book. 
And now the chapel's silver bell you 

hear, 141 

That summons you to all the pride of 

prayer. 
Light quirks of music, broken and unev'n, 
Make the soul dance upon a jig to Heav'n: 
On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, 
Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or La- 

guerre, 
On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie, 
And bring all paradise before your eye: 
To rest, the cushion and soft dean invite, 
Who never mentions Hell to ears polite. 150 
But hark! the chiming clocks to dinner 

call: 
A hundred footsteps scrape the marble hall; 
The rich buffet well-colour'd serpents 

grace. 
And gaping Tritons spew to wash your 

face. 
Is this a dinner ? this a genial room ? 
No, 't is a temple and a hecatomb; 
A solemn sacrifice perform'd in state; 
You drink by measure, and to minutes eat. 
So quick retires each flying course, you 'd 

swear 
Sancho's dread doctor and his wand were 

there. 160 

Between each act the trembling salvers 

ring. 
From soup to sweet wine, and God bless 

the King. 
In plenty starving, tantalized in state, 
And complaisantly help'd to all I hate, 
Treated, caress'd, and tired, I take my 

leave, 
Sick of his civil pride from morn to eve; 
I curse such lavish Cost and little Skill, 
And swear no day was ever pass'd so ill. 
Yet hence the poor are clothed, the hun- 
gry fed; ^ _ 169 
Health to himself, and to his infants bread 
The lab'rer bears; what his hard heart de- 
nies. 
His charitable vanity supplies. 

Another age shall see the golden ear 
Imbrown the slope, and nod on the parterre. 
Deep harvests bury all his pride has plann'd, 
And laughing Ceres reassume the land. 
Who then shall grace, or who improve 

the soil ? 
Who plants like Bathurst, or who builds 

like Boyle ? 



'T is use alone that sanctifies expense. 
And splendour borrows all her rays from 

sense. 180 

His father's acres who enjoys in peace. 
Or makes his neighbours glad if he increase ; 
Whose cheerful tenants bless their yearly 

toil, 
Yet to their Lord owe more than to the 

soil; 
Whose ample lawns are not ashamed to 

feed 
The milky heifer and deserving steed ; 
Whose rising forests, not for pride or show, 
But future buildings, future navies, grow: 
Let his plantations stretch from down to 

down, 
First shade a country, and then raise a 

town. 190 

You, too, proceed! make falling arts 

your care; 
Erect new wonders, and the old repair; 
Jones and Palladio to themselves restore 
And be whate'er Vitruvius was before, 
Till kings call forth th' ideas of your mind 
(Proud to accomplish what such hands 

design'd), 
Bid harbours open, public ways extend. 
Bid temples, worthier of the God, ascend, 
Bid the broad arch the daugerous flood 

contain. 
The mole projected break the roaring 

main, 200 

Back to his bounds their subject sea com- 
mand. 
And roll obedient rivers thro' the land. 
These honours Peace to happy Britain 

brings ; 
These are imperial works, and worthy 

Kings. 



EPISTLE V 

TO MR. ADDISON 
OCCASIONED BY HIS DIALOGUES ON MEDALS 

' This was orig-inally written,' says Pope, ' in 
the year 1715, when Mr. Addison intended to 
publish his book Of Medals ; it was some time 
before he was Secretary of State ; but not pub- 
lished till Mr. Tickell's edition of his works ; 
at which time the verses on Mr. Crag-g'S, which 
conclude the poem, were added, viz., in 1720.' 

Warburton connects the epistle with the pre- 
ceding Essays in this ingenious way : ' As the 



174 



MORAL ESSAYS 



third epistle treated the extremes of Avarice 
and Profusion, and the fourth took up one par- 
ticular branch of the latter, namely the van- 
ity of expense in people of wealth and quality, 
and was therefore corollary to the third ; so 
this treats of one circumstance of that vanity, 
as it appears in the common collections of 
old coins ; and is therefore a corollary to the 
fourth.' 

See the wild waste of all-devouring years! 

How Rome her own sad sepulchre appears! 

With nodding arches, broken temples 
spread, 

The very tombs now vanish'd like their 
dead ! 

Imperial wonders raised on nations spoil'd, 

Where mix'd with slaves the groaning 
martyr toil'd; 

Huge theatres, that now unpeopled woods, 

Now drain'd a distant country of her floods; 

Fanes, which admiring Gods with pride 
survey, 9 

Statues of men, scarce less alive than they! 

Some felt the silent stroke of mould'ring 
age. 

Some hostile fury, some religious rage: 

Barbarian blindness, Christian zeal con- 
spire, 

And Papal piety, and Gothic fire. 

Perhaps, by its own ruins saved from flame, 

Some buried marble half preserves a name: 

That name the learn'd with fierce disputes 
pursue 

And give to Titus old Vespasian's due. 
Ambition sigh'd: she found it vain to 
trust 

The faithless column and the crumbling 
bust ; 20 

Huge moles, whose shadow stretch'd from 
shore to shore. 

Their ruins perish'd, and their place no 
more! 

Convinced, she now contracts her vast de- 
sign, 

And all her triumphs shrink into a coin. 

A narrow orb each crowded conquest 
keeps, 

Beneath her palm here sad Judea weeps: 

Now scantier limits the proud arch con- 
fine, 

And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or 
Rhine: 

A small Euphrates thro' the piece is 
roU'd, 29 

And little eagles wave their wings in gold. 



The Medal, faithful to its charge of 

fame, 
Thro' climes and ages bears each form 

and name: 
In one short view subjected to our eye, 
Gods, Emp'rors, Heroes, Sages, Beauties, 

lie. 
With sharpen'd sight pale antiquaries pore, 
Th' inscription value, but the rust adore. 
This the blue varnish, that the green en- 
dears. 
The sacred rust of twice ten hundred 

years ! 
To gain Pescennius one employs his 

schemes. 
One grasps a Cecrops in ecstatic dreams. 40 
Poor Vadius, long with learned spleen de- 

vour'd, 
Can taste no pleasure since bis shield was 

scour'd; 
And Curio, restless by the fair one's side. 
Sighs for an Otho, and neglects his bride. 
Theirs is the vanity, the learning thine: 
Touch'd by thy hand, again Rome's glories 

shine ; 
Her Gods and godlike Heroes rise to view. 
And all her faded garlands bloom anew. 
Nor blush these studies thy regard engage: 
These pleas'd the fathers of poetic rage; 50 
The verse and sculpture bore an equal part. 
And art reflected images to art. 

Oh, when shall Britain, conscious of her 

claim. 
Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame ? 
In living medals see her wars enroll'd. 
And vanquish'd realms supply recording 

gold? 
Here, rising bold, the patriot's honest face, 
There warriors frowning in historic brass. 
Then future ages with delight shall see 
How Plato's, Bacon's, Newton's looks 

agree; 60 

Or in fair series laurell'd bards be shown, 
A Virgil there, and here an Addison. 
Then shall thy Craggs (and let me call him 

mine) 
On the cast ore another Pollio shine; 
With aspect open shall erect his head, 
And round the orb in lasting notes be read, 
* Statesman, yet friend to truth; of soul 

sincere, 
In action faithful, and in honour clear; 
Who broke no promise, serv'd no private 

end, 69 

Who gain'd no title, and who lost no friend ; 



UNIVERSAL PRAYER 



175 



Ennobled by himself, by all approv'd 
And prais'd, unenvied by the Muse he 
lov'd.' 



UNIVERSAL PRAYER 

DEO OPT. MAX. 

This was written in 1738 to correct the im- 
pression of fatalism which Warburton's ingen- 
ious exposition had failed to remove. Pope 
had really as little mind for dog-ma as most 
poets ; but these verses represent what, in view 
of the instructions of Boling-broke, corrected 
by Warburton, he now believed himself to be- 
lieve. 

Father of all ! in ev'ry age, 

In ev'ry clime ador'd, 
By saint, by savage, and by sage, 

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! 

Thou Great First Cause, least understood. 

Who all ray sense confin'd 
To know but this, that thou art good. 

And that myself am blind: 

Yet gave me, in this dark estate. 

To see the good from ill; 
And binding Nature fast in Fate, 
Xeft free the human Will. 

What Conscience dictates to be done, 

Or warns me not to do; 
This teach me more than Hell to shun, . 

That more than Heav'n pursue. 

What blessings thy free bounty gives 

Let me not cast away; 
For God is paid when man receives; 

T' enjoy is to obey. 



Yet not to earth's contracted span 
Thy goodness let me bound, 

Or think thee Lord alone of man. 
When thousand worlds are round. 

Let not this weak unknowing hand 
Presume thy bolts to throw, ,/ 

And deal damnation round the laud 
On eachfr judge thy foe. 

If I am right, thy grace impart, 

Still in the right to stay; 
If I am wrong, O teach my heart 

To find that better way. 

Sgjifi me alike from foolish Pride 

Or impious Discontent, 
At alight thy wisdom has denied, 

Or aught thy goodness lent. 

Teach me to feel another's woe, 

To hide the fault I see: 
That mercy I to others show. 

That mercy show to me. 

Mean tho' I am, not wholly so. 
Since quicken'd by thy breath; 

O lead me, whereso'er I go. 
Thro' this day's life or death! 

This day be bread and peace my lot: 

All else beneath the sun 
Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not, 

And let thy will be done. 

I To Thee, whose temple is all Spacey 
Whose altar earth, sea, skies, ^^ 
One chorus let air Being raise/'d^^ 
All Nature's incense rise ! A -^ 




y 



-^ 



ttsy-^ vA.-. .JU(y*s^/j 






'/AVt» \^> 



>vu^4 



176 



SATIRES 



SATIRES 



The Satires retain nearly the order of their 
original publicatiouo They appeared between 
1733 and 1738. It is said that Bolingbroke 
suggested the translation of the First Satire of 

EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 

BEING THE PROLOGUE TO THE SATIRES 
ADVERTISEMENT 

This paper is a sort of bill of complaint, begun 
many years since, and drawn up by snatches, 
as the several occasions offered. I had no 
thoughts of publishing it, till it pleased some 
Persons of Rank and Fortune (the authors of 
* Verses to the Imitator of Horace,' and of 
an ' Epistle to a Doctor of Divinity from a 
Nobleman at Hampton Court ' ) to attack, in 
a very extraordinary manner, not only my 
Writings (of which, being public, the Public 
is judge), but my Person, Morals, and Fam- 
ily ; whereof, to those who know me not, a 
truer information may be requisite. Being 
divided between the necessity to say some- 
thing of myself, and my own laziness to un- 
dertake so awkward a task, I thought it the 
shortest way to put the last hand to this 
epistle. If it have any thing pleasing, it will 
be that by which I am most desirous to 
please, the Truth and the Sentiment ; and if 
any thing offensive, it will be only to those I 
am least sorry to offend, the vicious or the 
ungenerous. 

Many will know their own pictures in it, there 
being not a circumstance but what is true ; 
but I have, for the most part, spared their 
names, and they may escape being laughed 
at if they please. 

I would have some of them know it was owing 
to the request of the learned and candid 
Friend to whom it is inscribed, that I make 
not as free use of theirs as they have done of 
mine. However, I shall have this advantage 
and honour on my side, that whereas, by 
their proceeding, any abuse may be directed 
at any man, no injury can possibly be done 
by mine, since a nameless character can 
never be found out but by its truth and like- 
ness. 

P. * Shut, shut the door, good John ! ' 

fatigued, I said; 
* Tie up the knocker, say I 'm sick, I 'm 
dead.' 



the Second Book of Horace, and that the trans- 
lation of the others was done somewhat at 
random, as Pope saw his opportunity of adapt- 
ing them to his own day. 

The Dog-star rages! nay, 'tis past a doubt 
All Bedlam or Parnassus is let out: 
Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand. 
They rave, recite, and madden round the 

land. 
What walls can guard me, or what 

shades can hide? 
They pierce my thickets, thro' my grot they 

glide, 
By land, by water, they renew the charge. 
They stop the chariot, and they board the 

barge. ic 

No place is sacred, not the church is free, 
Ev'n Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to 

me: 
Then from the Mint walks forth the man 

of rhyme, 
Happy to catch me just at dinner time. 

Is there a Parson much bemused in beer, 
A maudlin Poetess, a rhyming Peer, 
A clerk foredoom 'd his father's soul to cross. 
Who pens a stanza when he should engross? 
Is there who, lock'd from ink and paper, 

scrawls 
With desp'rate charcoal round his darken'd 

walls? 20 

All fly to Twit'nam, and in humble strain 
Apply to me to keep them mad or vain, 
Arthur, whose giddy son neglects the laws, 
Imputes to me and my damn'd works the 

cause: 
Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope, 
And curses W^it and Poetry, and Pope. 
Friend to my life (which did not you 

prolong, 
The world had wanted many an idle song)! 
What Drop or Nostrum can this plague 

remove? 
Or which must end me, a fool's wrath or 

love ? 30 

A dire dilemma! either way I 'm sped; 
^li foes, they write, if friends, they read me 

dead. 
Seiz'd and tied down to judge, how wretched 

I! 
Who can't be silent, and who will not lie. 



JLv 



}./^^^ 



f<=> "7 



jr 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 



177 



To laugh were want of goodness and of 

grace, 
And to be grave exceeds all power of face. 
1 sit with sad civility, I read 
With honest anguish and an aching head, 
And drop at last, but in unwilling ears, 
This saving counsel, ' Keep your piece nine 

years.' 40 

'Nine years!' cries he,, who, high in 

Drury lane, 
i.^LulTd by soft zephyrs thro' the broken 
Lt- , pane, 

Rhymes ere he wakes, and prints before 

Terra ends. 
Obliged by hunger and request of friends: 

* The piece, you think, is incorrect ? why, 

take it ! 
I 'm all submission: what you 'd have it — 

make it.' 
Three things another's modest wishes 

bound, 
' My friendship, and a Prologue, and ten 

pound.' 
Pitholeon sends to me: "You know his 

Grace, 
I want a patron ; ask him for a place.' 50 
Pitholeon libell'd me — 'But here's a 

letter 
Informs you. Sir, 'twas when he knew no 

better. 
Dare you refuse him ? Curll invites to dine. 
He '11 write a Journal, or he '11 turn Divine.' 
Bless me! a packet. — 'Tis a stranger sues, 
A Virgin Tragedy, an Orphan Muse. 
If I dislike it, ' Furies, death, and rage ! ' 
If I approve, * Commend it to the stage.' 
TIiere~ftharik my stars) my whole commis- 
sion ends, 59 
The players and I are, luckily, no friends. 
Fired that the house rejects him, * 'Sdeath, 

I'll print it, 
And shame the fools — your int'rest, Sir, 

with Lintot.' 
Lintot, dull rogue, will think your price too 

much: 
' Not, Sir, if you revise it, and retouch.' 
All my demurs but double his attacks; 
At last he whispers, * Do, and we go 

snacks.' 
Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door; 

* Sir, let me see your works and you no 

more.' 
'Tis sung, when Midas' ears began to 
spring 
(Midas, a sacred person and a king), 70 



His very Minister who spied them first 
(Some say his Queen) was forc'd to speak 

or burst. 
And is not mine, my friend, a sorer case. 
When ev'ry coxcomb perks them in my 

face ? 
A. Good friend, forbear! you deal in 

dangerous things; 
I 'd never name Queens, Ministers, or 

Kings; 
Keep close to ears, and those let asses 

prick, 
'T is nothing — P. Nothing ! if they bite 

and kick ? 
Out with it, Dunciad! let the secret pass, 
That secret to each fool, that he 's an ass: 
The truth once told (and wherefore should 

we lie ?) 81 

The Queen of Midas slept, and so may I. 
You think this cruel ? take it for a 

rule, 
No creature smarts so little as a fool. 
Let peals of laughter, Codrus! round thee 

break, 
Thou unconcern'd canst hear the mighty 

crack: 
Pit, Box, and Gall'ry in convulsions hurl'd, 
Thou stand'st unshook amidst a bursting 

world. 
Who shames a Scribbler ? break one cob- 
web thro', 
He spins the slight self-pleasing thread 

anew: 90 

Destroy his fib, or sophistry — in vain! 
The creature 's at his dirty work again, -^ 
Throned in the centre of his thin designs, 
Proud of a vast extent of flimsy lines. 
Whom have I hurt ? has Poet yet or Peer 
Lost the arch'd eyebrow or Parnassian 

sneer ? 
And has not Colley still his lord and whore ? 
His butchers Henley ? his freemasons 

Moore ? 
Does not one table Bavius still admit ? 
Still to one Bishop Philips seem a wit ? 100 
Still Sappho— A. Hold! for God's sake 

— you '11 offend. 
No names — be calm — learn prudence of 

a friend. 
I too could write, and I am twice as tall; 
But foes like these — P. One flatt'rer 's 

worse than all. 
Of all mad creatures, if the learn'd are 

right, 
It is the slaver kills, and not the bite. 



lyS 



SATIRES 



A fool quite angry is quite innocent: 

Alas! 'tis ten times worse when they re- 
pent. 
One dedicates in high heroic prose, 

And ridicules beyond a hundred foes; no 

One from all Grub-street will my fame 
defend, 

And, more abusive, calls himself my friend: 
■^his prints my Letter r, that expects a bribe, 

And others roar aloud, 'Subscribe, sub- 
scribe! ' 
There are who to my person pay their 
court: 

I cough like Horace; and tho' lean, am 
short ; 

Ammon's great son one shoulder had too 
high. 

Such Ovid's nose, and 'Sir! you have an 
eye — ' 

Go on, obliging creatures! make me see 

All that disgraced my betters met in me. 

Say, for my comfort, languishing in bed, 121 

* Just so immortal Maro held his head: ' 

And when I die, be sure you let me know 

Great Homer died three thousand years 
ago. 
Why did I write ? what sin to me un- 
known 

Dipp'd me in ink, my parents', or my own ? 

As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, 
'^I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came: 

I left no calling for this idle trade. 

No duty broke, no father disobey'd: 130 

The Muse but serv'd to ease some friend, 
not wife, 

To help me thro' this long disease my lije, 

To second, Arbuthnot! thy art and^care, 

And teach the being you preserv'd, to bear. 
A. But why then publish ? P. Granville 
the polite. 

And knowing Walsh, would tell me I could 
write ; 

Well-natured Garth inflamed with early 
praise, 

And Congreve lov'd, and Swift endured my 
lays; 

The courtly Talbot, Somers, Sheffield, read; 

Ev'n mitred Rochester would nod the 
head, 140 

And St. John's self (great Dryden's friends 
before) 

With open arms receiv'd one poet more. 

Happy my studies, when by these appro v'd! 

Happier their author, when by these be- 
lov'd I 



From these the world will judge of men 

and books. 
Not from the Burnets, Oldmixons, and 

Cookes. 
Soft were my numbers; who could take 

offence 
While pure description held the place of 

sense ? 
Like gentle Fanny's was my flowery theme, 
* A painted mistress, or a purling stream.' 
Yet then did Gildon draw his venal quill; 151 
I wish'd the man a dinner, and sat still: 
Yet then did Dennis rave in furious fret; 
I never answer'd; I was not in debt. 
If want provoked, or madness made them 

print, 
I waged no war with Bedlam or the Mint. 
Did some more sober critic come abroad; 
If wrong, I smiled, if right, I kiss'd the 

rod. 
Pains, reading, study, are their just pre- 
tence, 
And all they want is spirit, taste, and 

sense. 160 

Commas and points they set exactly right, 
And 't were a sin to rob them of their mite. 
Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel graced these 

ribalds, 
From slashing Bentleys down to piddling 

Tibbalds. 
Each wight who reads not, and but scans 

and spells. 
Each word-catcher that lives on syllables, 
Ev'n such small critics some regard may 

claim, 
Preserv'd in Milton's or in Shakspeare's 

name. 
Pretty! in amber to observe the forms 
Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or 

worms! 170 

The things, we know, are neither rich nor 

rare. 
But wonder how the devil they got there. 

Were others angry: I excused them too; 
Well might they rage, I gave them but 

their due. 
A man's true merit 't is not hard to find ; 
But each man's secret standard in his 

mind. 
That casting-weight Pride adds to empti- 
ness. 
This, who can gratify ? for who can guess ? 
The bard whom pilfer'd pastorals renown. 
Who turns a Persian tale for half-a- 

crown, 180 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 



179 



Just writes to make his barrenness appear, 
And strains from hard-bound brains eight 

lines a year; 
He who still wanting, tho' he lives on theft. 
Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing 

left; 
And he who now to sense, now nonsense, 

leaning. 
Means not, but blunders round about a 

meaning: 
And he whose fustian 's so sublimely bad, 
It is not poetry, but prose run mad: 
All these my modest satire bade translate. 
And own'd that nine such poets made a 

Tate. 190 

How did they fume, and stamp, and roar, 

and chafe! 
i Ajid,swearjaQt A D M SOxJiimself was safe. 
\ Peace to all such! but were there one 
/ whose fires 

True Genius kindles, and fair Fame in- 
spires, 
Bless'd with each talent and each art to 

please. 
And born to write, converse, and live with 
^- ease ; 

Should such a man, too fond to rule alone. 
Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the 

throne ; 
View him with scornful, yet with jealous. 
\ ^^ eyes. 

And hate for arts that caus'd himself to 

rise ; 2qo 

\Damn with faint praise, assent with civil 
' leer. 

And without sneering teach the rest to 

sneer; 
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, 
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike; 
Alike reserv'd to blame or to commend, 
A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend; 
Dreading ev'n fools; by flatterers besieged. 
And so obliging that he ne'er obliged; 
Like Cato, give his little Senate laws, 
And sit attentive to his own applause: 210 
While Wits and Templars ev'ry sentence 
fv- raise. 

And wonder with a foolish face of praise — 
Who but must laugh if such a man there be ? 
^^ Who would not weep, if Atticus were he? 
What tho' my name stood rubric on the 

walls. 
Or plaster'd posts, with claps, in capitals ? 
Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers load, 
On wings of winds came flying all abroad ? 



I sought no homage from the race that 

write ; 
I kept, like Asian Monarch s, from their 

sight: 220 

Poems I heeded (now berhymed so long) 
No more than thou, great George ! a birth- 

day song. 
I ne'er with Wits or Witlings pass'd my 

days 
To spread about the itch of verse and 

praise ; 
Nor like a puppy daggled thro' the town 
To fetch and carry sing-song up and down; 
Nor at rehearsals sweat, and mouth'd, and 

cried. 
With handkerchief and orange at my side; 
But sick of fops, and poetry, and prate. 
To Bufo left the whole Castalian state. 230 

Proud as Apollo on his forked hill 
Sat full-blown Bufo, puff'd by ev'ry 

quill: 
Fed with soft dedication all day long, 
Horace and he went hand in hand in song. 
His library (where busts of poets dead. 
And a true Pindar stood without a head) 
Receiv'd of Wits an undistinguish'd race, 
Who first his judgment ask'd, and then a 

place: 
Much they extoll'd bis pictures, much his 

seat. 
And flatter'd ev'ry day, and some days 

eat: 240 

Till grown more frugal in his riper days. 
He paid some bards with port, and some 

with praise; 
To some a dry rehearsal was assign'd. 
And others (harder still) he paid in kind. 
Dryden alone (what wonder ?) came not 

nigh; 
Dryden alone escaped this judging eye: 
But still the great have kindness in re- 
serve; 
He help'd to bury whom he help'd to 

starve. 
May some choice patron bless each gray 

goose quill! 
May every Bavins have his Bufo still! 
So when a statesman wants 'a day's 

fence. 
Or Envy holds a whole week's war with 

Sense, 
Or simple Pride for flatt'ry makes de- 
mands. 
May dunce by dunce be whistled off my 

hands! 



250 
de- 



W^V'-^'Vm 



J-fe^v^ 



ibo 



SATIRES 



V' 



^ 



Bless'd be the great! for those they take 

away, 
And those they left me — for they left me 

--Gay; 
Left me to see neglected Genius bloom, 
Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb: 
Of all thy blameless life the sole return 
My Verse, and Queensb'ry weeping o'er 
thy urn! 260 

Oh let me live my own, and die so too 
(To live and die is all 1 have to do)! 
Maintain a poet's dignity and ease, 
And see what friends, and read what books 

I please; 
Above a Patron, tho' I condescend 
Sometimes to call a minister my Friend. 
\ I was not born for courts or great affairs; 
I pay my debts, believe, and say my 

prayers ; 
Can sleep without a poem in my head, 
Nor know if Dennis be alive or dea(L__ 270 
Why am I ask'd what next shall see the 
/ light ? 

I Heav'ns! was I born for nothing but to 
write ? 
Has life no joys for me ? or (to be grave) 
Have I no friend to serve, no soul to save ? 

* I found him close with Svrift ' — * Indeed ? 

no doubt 
(Cries prating Balbus) something will come 

out.' 
T is all in vain, deny it as I will; 

* No, such a genius never can lie still: ' 
And then for mine obligingly mistakes 279 
The first lampoon Sir Will or Bubo makes. 
Poor guiltless I! and can I choose but smile, 
When ev'ry coxcomb knows me by my 

style ? 
Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it 

flow. 
That tends to make one worthy man my foe, 
Give Virtue scandal, Innocence a fear, 
Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear! 
But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's 

peace. 
Insults fall'n Worth, or Beauty in distress. 
Who loves a lie, lame Slander helps about, 
Who writes a libel, or who copies out; 290 
That fop whose pride affects a patron's 

name, 
Yet absent, wounds an author's honest 

fame; 
Who can your merit selfishly approve, 
And show the sense of it without the 

love; 



Who has the vanity to call you friend, 
Yet wants the honour, injured, to defend; 
Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you 

say, 
And, if he lie not, must at least betray; 
Who to the Dean and Silver Bell can 

sweaF, 299 

And sees at Canons what was never there; 
Who reads but with a lost to misapply. 
Make satire a lampoon, and fiction lie: 
A lash like mine no honest man shall dread^ 
But all such babbling blockheads in his 

stead. 
V' Let Sporus tremble — A. What? that 

thing of silk, . o'^Xia* 

Sporus, that mere white curd of Ass's 

milk? 
Satire or sense, alas ! can Sporus feel ? 
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel ? 
P. Yet let me flap this bug with gilded 

wings. 
This painted child of dirt, that stinks and 

stings ; 3 10 

Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys. 
Yet Wit ne'er tastes, and Beauty ne'er en- 

So well-bred spaniels civilly delight 

In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. 

Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, 

As shallow streams run dimpling all the 

way. 
Whether in florid impotence he speaks, 
And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet 

squeaks. 
Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad. 
Half froth, half venom, spits himself 

abroad, 320 ^ 

In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies, -/ 

Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphem- ^ 

ies; 
His wit all see-saw between that and this^ 
Now high, now low, now master up, now 

miss. 
And he himself one vile Antithesis. 
Amphibious thing ! that acting either part, 
The trifling head, or the corrupted heart; 
Fop at the toilet, flatt'rer at the board, 
Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord. 
Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have ex- 

prest, 330 

A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest; 
Beauty that shocks you, Parts that none 

will trust. 
Wit that can creep, and Pride that licks 

the dust. 



EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 



i8i 



Not Fortune's worshipper, nor Fashion's 

fool, 
Not Lucre's madman, nor Ambition's tool. 
Not proud nor servile; — be one poet's 

praise, 
That if he pleas'd, he pleas'd by manly 

ways : 
That flatt'ry ev'n to Kings, he held a 

shame. 
And thought a lie in verse or prose the 

same; 339 

That not in fancy's maze he wander'd long, 
But stoop'd to truth, and moralized his 

song; 
That not for Fame, but Virtue's better end, 
He stood the furious foe, the timid friend, 
The damning critic, half approving wit. 
The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit; 
Laugh'd at the loss of friends he never had. 
The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the 

mad; 
The distant threats of vengeance on his 

head, 
The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed; 349 
The tale revived, the lie so oft o'erthrown, 
Th' imputed trash and dulness not his 

own; 
The morals blacken'd when the writings 

'scape, 
The libell'd person, and the pictured shape; 
Abuse on all he lov'd, or lov'd him, spread, 
A friend in exile, or a father dead ; 
The whisper, that, to greatness still too 

near. 
Perhaps yet vibrates on his Sov'reign's 

ear — 
Welcome for thee, fair Virtue ! all the 

past: 
For thee, fair Virtue !. welcome ev'n the 

last ! 
A. But why insult the poor ? affront the 

great ? 360 

P. A knave 's a knave to me in ev'ry state ; 
Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail, 
Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jail ; 
A hireling scribbler, or a hireling peer. 
Knight of the post corrupt, or of the shire; 
If on a Pillory, or near a Throne, 
He gain his prince's ear, or lose his own. 
Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than 

wit, 
Sappho can tell you how this man was bit: 
This dreaded Satirist Dennis will confess 
Foe to his pride, but friend to his dis- 
tress: 371 



So humble, he has knock'd at Tibbald's 

""~* ^oor, "~ 

Has drunk with Gibber, nay, has rhymed for 

Moore. 
Full ten years slander'd, did he once re- 

ply? 

Three thousand suns went down on Wel- 

sted's lie. 
To please a mistress one aspers'd his life; 
He lash'd him not, but let her be his wife: 
Let Budgell charge low Grub-street on his 

quill. 
And write whate'er he pleased, except his 

will; 379 

Let the two Curlls of town and court abuse 
His father, mother, body, soul, and muse: 
Yet why ? that father held it for a rule, 
It was a sin to call our neighbour fool; 
That harmless mother thought no wife a 

whore : 
Hear this, and spare his family, James 

Moore! 
Unspotted names, and memorable long. 
If there be force in Virtue, or in Song. 
Of gentle blood (part shed in honour's 

cause. 
While yet in Britain honour had applause) 
Each parent sprung — A . What fortune, 

pray ? — 
P. Their own; 390 

And better got than Bestia's from the 

throne. 
Born to no pride, inheriting no strife, 
Nor marrying discord in a noble wife, ^-A-<vi »^ 
Stranger to civil and religious rage, 
The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his 

age. 
No courts he saw, no suits would ever try. 
Nor dared an oath, nor hazarded a lie. 
Unlearn'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle 

art. 
No language but the language of the heart. 
By Nature honest, by Experience wise, 400 
Healthy by Temp'rance and by Exercise; 
His life, tho' long, to sickness pass'd un- 
known. 
His death was instant and without a groan. 
O grant me thus to live, and thus to die ! 
Who sprung from kings shall know less joy 

than I. 
O friend ! may each domestic bliss be 

thine ! 
Be no unpleasing melancholy mine: 
Me, let the tender office long engage 
To rock the cradle of reposing Ago, 409 



I82 



SATIRES 



With lenient arts extend a Mother's breath, 
Make Languor smile, and smooth the bed 

of Death; 
Explore the thought, explain the asking 

eye, 
And keep a while one parent from the sky ! 
On cares like these if length of days attend, 
May Heav'n, to bless those days, preserve 

my friend ! 
Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene, 
And just as rich as when he serv'd a Queen. 
A. Whether that blessing be denied or 

giv'n, 
Thus far was right; — the rest belongs to 

Heav'n. 



SATIRES, EPISTLES, AND ODES 
OF HORACE IMITATED 

Ludentis speciem dabit, et torquebitur. — Hob. 
ADVERTISEMENT 

The occasion of publishing these Imitations 
was the clamour raised on some of my Epis- 
tles. An answer from Horace was both more 
full and of more dignity than any I could 
have made in my own person ; and the ex- 
ample of much greater freedom in so emi- 
nent a divine as Dr. Donne, seemed a proof 
with what indignation and contempt a Chris- 
tian may treat Vice or Folly, in ever so low 
or ever so high a station. Both these authors 
were acceptable to the Princes and Ministers 
under whom they lived. The satires of Dr. 
Donne I versified at the desire of the Earl of 
Oxford, while he was Lord Treasurer, and of 
the Duke of Shrewsbury, who had been Sec- 
retary of State ; neither of whom looked 
upon a satire on vicious courts as any reflec- 
tion on those they served in. And indeed 
there is not in the world a greater error than 
that which fools are so apt to fall into, and 
knaves with good reason to encourage, — the 
mistaking a Satirist for a Libeller ; whereas 
to a true Satirist nothing is so odious as a 
Libeller, for the same reason as to a man 
truly virtuous nothing is so hateful as a 
hypocrite. 

Uni iequus virtuti atque ejus amicis. 



THE FIRST SATIRE OF THE 
SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 

This satire was first published in 1733, under 
the title A Dialogue between Alexander Pope of 



Twickenham, on the one part, and the Learned 
Counsel on the other. 



TO MR. FORTESCUE 

P. There are (I scarce can think it, but 

am told). 
There are to whom my satire seems too 

bold; 
Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough, 
And something said of Chartres much too 

rough. 
The lines are weak, another 's pleas'd to 

say; 
Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day. 
Tim'rous by nature, of the rich in awe, 
I come to counsel learned in the law: 
You '11 give me, like a friend both sage and 

free, 
Advice; and (as you use) without a fee. lo 
F. I'd write no more. 

P. Not write ? but then I think, 
And for my soul I cannot sleep a wink. 
I nod in company, I wake at night; 
Fools rush into my head, and so I write. 
F. You could not do a worse thing for 

your life. 
Why, if the night seem tedious — take a 

wife: 
Or rather, truly, if your point be rest. 
Lettuce and cowslip wine: prohatum est. 
But talk with Celsus, Celsus will advise 
Hartshorn, or something that shall close 

your eyes. 20 

Or if you needs must write, write Caesar's 

praise ; 
You '11 gain at least a Knighthood or the 

Bays. 
P. What? like Sir Richard, rumbling, 

rough, and fierce. 
With Arms, and George, and Brunswick, 

crowd the verse; 
Rend with tremendous sound your ears 

asunder. 
With gun, drum, trumpet, blunderbuss, and 

thunder ? 
Or nobly wild, with Budgell's fire and 

force, 
Paint angels trembling round his falling 

horse ? 
F. Then all your Muse's softer art dis- 
play, 
Let Carolina smooth the tuneful lay; 30 
Lull with Amelia's liquid name the Nine, 
And sweetly flow thro' all the royal line. 



FIRST SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 183 



/ 



P. Alas! few verses touch their nicer 

ear; 
They scarce can bear their Laureate twice 

a year; 
And justly Csesar scorns the poet's lays; 
It is to history he trusts for praise. 
^F. Better be Gibber, I '11 maintain it 

still, 

Than ridicule all Taste, blaspheme Quad- 
rille, 
Abuse the city's best good men in metre, 
And laugh at peers that put their trust in 

Peter. 40 

Ev'n those you touch not, hate you. 

P. What should ail 'em ? 
F. A hundred smart in Timon and in 

Balaam. 
The fewer still you name, you wound the 

more ; 
Bond is but one, but Harpax is a score. 
P. Each mortal has his pleasure: none 

deny 
Scarsdale his bottle, Darty his ham-pie: 
Ridotta sips and dances till she see 
The doubling lustres dance as fast as she: 
F[ox] loves the Senate, Hockley-hole his 

brother, 
Like in all else, as one egg to another. 50 
I love to pour out all myself as plain 
As downright Shippen, or as old Montaigne: 
In them, as certain to be lov'd as seen. 
The soul stood forth, nor kept a thought 

within ; 
In me what spots (for spots I have) ap- 
pear. 
Will prove at least the medium must be 

clear. 
In this impartial glass ray Muse intends 
Fair to expose myself, my foes, my friends ; 
Publish the present age; but where my 

text 
Is vice too high, reserve it for the next; 60 
My foes shall wish my life a longer date. 
And ev'ry friend the less lament my fate. 
My head and heart thus flowing thro' my 

quill. 
Verse-man or prose-man, term me which 

you will, 
Papist or Protestant, or both between, 
Like good Erasmus, in an honest mean, 
In moderation placing all my glory. 
While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a 

Tory. 
Satire 's my weapon, but I 'm too discreet 
To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet; 70 



I only wear it in a land of Hectors, 
Thieves, supercargoes, sharpers, and di- 
rectors. 
Save but our Army! and let Jove incrust 
Swords, pikes, and guns, with everlasting 

rust! 
Peace is my dear delight — not Fleury's 

more : 
But touch me, and no minister so sore. 
Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time 
Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme, 
Sacred to ridicule his whole life long, 79 
And the sad burden of some merry song. 
Slander or poison dread from Delia's 

rage; 
Hard words or hanging, if your judge be 

Page; 
From furious Sappho scarce a milder fate, 
Pox'd by her love, or libell'd by her hate. 
Its proper power to hurt each creature 

feels ; 
Bulls aim their horns, and asses lift their 

heels; 
'T is a bear's talent not to kick, but hug; 
And no man wonders he 's npt stung by 

So drink with Walters, or with Chartres 

eat, 
They '11 never poison you, they '11 only 

cheat. go 

Then, learned Sir! (to cut the matter 

short) 
Whate'er my fate, — or well or ill at 

court. 
Whether old age, with faint but cheerful 

ray, 
Attends to gild the ev'ning of my day, 
Or death's black wing already be display'd. 
To wrap me in the universal shade; 
Whether the darken'd room to muse invite. 
Or whiten'd wall provoke the skewer to 

write ; 
In durance, exile. Bedlam, or the Mint, — 
Like Lee or Budgell I will rhyme and 

print. IOC 

F. Alas, young man, your days can ne'er 

be long: 
In flower of age you perish for a song! 
Plums and directors, Shylock and his wife, 
Will club their testers now to take your 

life. 
P. What ? arm'd for Virtue when I 

point the pen. 
Brand the bold front of shameless guilty 

men. 



1 84 



SATIRES 



Dash the proud Gamester in his gilded ear, 
Bare the mean heart that lurks beneath a 

Star; 
Can there be wanting, to defend her cause. 
Lights of the Church, or guardians of the 

Laws ? I lo 

Could pension'd Boileau lash in honest 

strain 
Flatt'rers and bigots ev'n in Louis' reign ? 
Could Laureate Dryden pimp and friar 

engage. 
Yet neither Charles nor James be in a rage ? 
And I not strip the gilding off a knave, 
Unplaced, unpension'd, no man's heir or 

slave ? 
I will, or perish in the gen'rous cause; 
Hear this, and tremble! you who 'scape 

the laws. 
Yes, while I live, no rich or noble knave 
Shall walk the world in credit to his 

grave : - 120 

To Virtue only and her Friends a friend. 
The world beside may murmur or com- 
mend. 
Know, all the distant din that world can 

keep. 
Rolls o'er my grotto and but soothes my 

sleep. 
There my retreat the best companions 

grace, 
Chiefs out of war, and statesmen out of 

place : 
There St. John mingles with my friendly 

bowl 
The feast of reason and the flow of soul: 
And he, whose lightning pierced th' Iberian 

lines, 
Now forms my quincunx, and now ranks 

my vines; 130 

Or tames the genius of the stubborn plain, 
Almost as quickly as he conquer'd Spain. 
Envy must own I live among the great. 
No pimp of Pleasure, and no spy of State, 
With eyes that pry not, tongue that ne'er 

repeats. 
Fond to spread friendships, but to cover 

heats ; 
To help who want, to forward who excel; 
This all who know me, know; who love 

me, tell; 
And who unknown defame me, let them be 
Scribblers or peers, alike are Mob to me. 140 
This is my plea, on this I rest my cause — 
What saith my counsel, learned in the 

laws ? 



F. Your plea is good ; but still I say, be- 
ware! 
Laws are explain'd by men — so have a 
care. . 

It stands on record, that in Richard's times ) 
A man was hang'd for very honest rhymes. 
Consult the statute; quart. I think it is, 
Edwardi sext. or prim, et quint. Eliz. 
See Libels, Satires — here you have it — 
read. 
P. Libels and Satires! lawless things in- 
deed! 150 
But grave epistles, bringing Vice to light, 
Such as a King might read, a Bishop write, 
Such as Sir Robert would approve — F. 

Indeed! 
The case is alter'd — you may then pro- 
ceed: 
In such a cause the Plaintiff will be hiss'd, 
My Lords the Judges laugh, and you 're 
dismiss'd. 



THE SECOND SATIRE OF THE 
SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 

TO MR. BETHEL 

What, and how great, the Virtue and the 

Art 
To live on little with a cheerful heart! 
(A doctrine sage, but truly none of mine) 
Let 's talk, my friends, but talk before we 

dine ; 
Not when a gilt buffet's reflected pride 
Turns you from sound Philosophy aside; 
Not when from plate to plate your eyeballs 

roll. 
And the brain dances to the mantling bowl. 
Hear Bethel's sermon, one not vers'd in 

schools 
But strong in sense, and wise without the 

rules. 10 

* Go work, hunt, exercise! (he thus be- 
gan) 
Then scorn a homely dinner if you can. 
Your wine lock'd up, your butler stroU'd 

abroad. 
Or fish denied (the river yet unthaw'd) ; 
If then plain bread and milk will do the 

feat. 
The pleasure lies in you, and not the meat.* 
Preach as I please, I doubt our curious 

men 
Will choose a pheasant still before a hen; 



SECOND SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE i8i 



j^ 



K 



Yet hens of Guinea full as good I hold, 
Except you eat the feathers greeu and 
gold. 20 

Of carps aud mullets why prefer the great, 
(Tho' cut in pieces ere my Lord can eat) 
Yet for small turbots such esteem profess ? 
Because God made these large, the other 

less. 
Oldfield, with more than harpy throat 

endued, 
Cries, 'Send me, Gods! a whole Hog bar- 
becued! ' 

blast it. South- wiuds! till a stench ex- 

hale 
Rank as the ripeness of a rabbit's tail. 
By what criterion do you eat, d' ye think. 
If this is prized for sweetness, that for 

stink ? 30 

When the tired glutton labours thro' a 

treat. 
He finds no relish in the sweetest meat; 
He calls for something bitter, something 

sour. 
And the rich feast concludes extremely 

poor: 
Cheap eggs, and herbs, and olives, still we 

see; 
Thus much is left of old Simplicity! 
The robin-redbreast till of late had rest. 
And children sacred held a martin's nest, 
Till becaficos sold so devilish dear 
To one that was, or would have been, a 

Peer. 
Let me extol a cat on oysters fed; 

1 '11 have a party at the Bedford -head: 

Or ev'n to crack live crawfish recommend; 
I 'd never doubt at court to make a friend! 
'T is yet in vain, I own, to keep a pother 
About one vice, and fall into the other: 
Between Excess and Famine lies a mean; 
Plam, "but not sordid; tho' not splendid, 

clean. 
Avidien or his wife (no matter w hich, 4q 
ForTnTrryDu '11 call a dog, and her a bitch) 
Sell their presented partridges and fruits, 
And humbly live on rabbits and on roots: 
One half-pint bottle serves them both to 

dine. 
And is at once their vinegar and wine: 
But on some lucky day (as when they 

found 
A lost bank-bill, or heard their son was 

drown'd) 

At such a feast, old vinegar to spare, 
Is what two souls so gen'rous cannot bear: 



40 



Oil, tho' it stink, they drop by drop impart. 
But souse the cabbage with a bounteous 

heart. 60 

He knows to live who keeps the middle 

state, 
And neither leans on this side nor on that; 
Nor stops for one bad cork his butler's pay, 
Swears, like Albutius, a good cook away; 
Nor lets, like Nsevius, ev'ry error pass. 
The musty wine, foul cloth, or greasy glass. 
Now hear what blessings Temperance 

can bring 
(Thus said our friend, and what he said I 

sing) : 
First Health: the stomach (cramm'd from 

ev'ry dish, 
A tomb of boil'd and roast, and flesh and 

fish, 70 

Where bile, and wind, and phlegm, and 

acid, jar. 
And all the man is one intestine war) 
Remembers oft the schoolboy's simple fare, 
The temp'rate sleeps, and spirits light as 

air. 
How pale each worshipful and rev'rend 

guest 
Rise from a clergy or a city feast! 
What life in all that ample body, say ? 
What heav'nly particle inspires the clay ? 
The Soul subsides, and wickedly inclines 
To seem but mortal ev'n in sound Divines. 
On morning wings how active springs the 

mind 81 

That leaves the load of yesterday behind! 
How easy every labour it pursues! 
How coming to the Poet ev'ry Muse ! 
Not but we may exceed, some holy-time. 
Or tired in search of Truth or search of 

Rhyme: 
111 health some just indulgence may en- 
gage, 
And more the sickness of long life, old age: 
For fainting age what cordial drop remains, 
If our intemp'rate youth the vessel drains ? 
Our fathers prais'd rank venison. You 

suppose, 91 

Perhaps, young men! our fathers had no 

nose. 
Not so: a buck was then a week's repast. 
And 't was their point, I ween, to make it 

last; 
More pleas'd to keep it till their friends 

could come. 
Than eat the sweetest by themselves at 

home. 



i86 



SATIRES 



Why had not I in those good times my 

birth, 
Ere coxcomb-pies or coxcombs were on 

earth V 
Unworthy he the voice of Fame to hear, 
That sweetest music to an honest ear loo 
(For 'faith, Lord Fanny! you are in the 

wrong. 
The world's good word is better than a 

song). 
Who has not learn'd fresh sturgeon and 

ham-pie 
Are no rewards for want and infamy! 
When Luxury has lick'd up all thy pelf, 
Curs'd by thy neighbours, thy trustees, 

thyself; 
To friends, to fortune, to mankind a shame, 
Think how posterity will treat thy name ; 
And buy a rope, that future times may tell 
Thou hast at least bestow'd one penny well. 
' Right,' cries his lordship, ' for a rogue 

in need m 

To have a taste is insolence indeed: 
In me 't is noble, suits my birth and state, 
My wealth unwieldy, and my heap too 

great.' 
Then, like the sun, let Bounty spread her 

ray. 
And shine that superfluity away. 
Oh impudence of wealth! with all thy store 
How darest thou let one worthy man be 



Shall 



poor 



half the new-built churches round 
thee fall ? 
Make quays, build bridges, or repair White- 
hall; I20 
Or to thy country let that heap be lent. 
As M[arlbor]o's was, but not at five per 

' Who thinks that Fortune cannot change 
her mind. 
Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind. 
And who stands safest ? tell me, is it he 
That spreads and swells in puff 'd prosperity, 
Or bless'd with little, whose preventing 

care 
In peace provides fit arms against a war ? ' 
Thus Bethel spoke, who always speaks 
his thought. 
And always thinks the very thing he ought: 
His equal mind I copy what I can, 131 

And as I love, would imitate the man. 
In South-Sea days, not happier, when sur- 
mised 
The lord of thousands, than if now excised; 



In forest planted by a father's hand, 
Than in five acres now of rented land. 
Content with little, I can piddle here 
On brocoli and mutton round the year; 
But ancient friends (tho' poor, or out of 

play) 
That touch my bell, I cannot turn away. 140 
'T is true, no turbots dignify my boards. 
But gudgeons, flounders, what my Thames 

affords: 
To Hounslow Heath I point, and Banstead 

Down, 
Thence comes your mutton, and these 

chicks my own: 
From yon old walnut tree a shower shall 

fall, 
And grapes long ling'ring on my only wall; 
And figs from standard and espalier join; 
The devil is in you if you cannot dine : 
Then cheerful healths (your Mistress shall 

have place). 
And, what 's more rare, a Poet shall say 

grace. 150 

Fortune not much of humbling me can 

boast; 
Tho' double tax'd, how little have I lost! 
My life's amusements have been just the 

same. 
Before and after standing armies came. 
My lands are sold, my father's house is 

gone; 
I '11 hire another's ; is not that my own — 
And yours, my friends — thro' whose free 

opening gate 
None comes too early, none departs too 

late? 
(For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the 

best. 
Welcome the coming, speed the going 

guest.) 160 

'Pray Heav'n it last! (cries Swift) as 

you go on: 
I wish to God this house had been your 

own! 
Pity! to build without a son or wife: 
Why, you '11 enjoy it only all j^our life.' 
Well, if the use be mine, can it concern 

one 
Whether the name belong to Pope or Ver- 
non ? 
What 's property ? dear Swift! you see it 

alter 
From you to me, from me to Peter Walter; 
Or in a mortgage prove a lawyer's share, 
Or in a jointure vanish from the heir; 170 



FIRST EPISTLE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE 187 



Or in pure equity (the case not clear) 
The Chancery takes your rents for twenty 

year: 
At best it falls to some ungracious son, 
Who cries, ' My father 's damu'd, and all 's 

my own.' 
Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford, 
Become the portion of a booby lord; 
And Hemsley, once proud Buckingham's 

delight, 
Slides to a scriv'ner or a city knight. 
Let lands and houses have what lords they 

will, 179 

Let us be fix'd, and our own masters still. 



THE FIRST EPISTLE OF THE 
FIRST BOOK OF HORACE 

TO LORD BOLINGBROKE 

St. John, whose love indulged my labours 

past. 
Matures my present, and shall bound my 

last, 
Why will vou break the Sabbath of my 

days ? 
Now sick alike of envy and of praise. 
Public too long, ah ! let me hide my Age: 
See modest Gibber now has left the Stage: 
Our gen'rals now, retired to their estates, 
Hang their old trophies o'er the garden 

gates ; 
In life's cool ev'ning satiate of applause. 
Nor fond of bleeding ev'n in Brunswick's 

cause. 10 

A voice there is, that whispers in my ear 

('T is Reason's voice, which sometimes one 

can hear), 
7^ 'Friend Pope! be prudent, let your Muse 

take breath. 
And never gallop Pegasus to death; 
Lest stiff and stately, void of fire or force. 
You limp, like Blackmore, on a lord 

mayor's horse.' 
Farewell then Verse, and Love, and ev'ry 

toy, 
The rhymes and rattles of the Man or Boy; 
What right, what true, what fit, we justly 

call. 
Let this be all my care — for this is all; 20 
To lay this harvest up, and hoard with 

haste 
What ev'ry day will want, and most the 

last. 



But ask not to what Doctors I apply ; 
Sworn to no master, of no sect am I: 
As drives the storm, at any door I knock, 
And house with Montaigne now, or now 

with Locke. 
Sometimes a patriot, active in debate. 
Mix with the world, and battle for the 

state ; 
Free as young Lyttleton, her cause pursue, 
Still true to Virtue, and as warm as true: 30 
Sometimes with Aristippus or St. Paul, 
Indulge ray candour, and grow all to all ; 
Back tojny native Moderation slide, 
And win my way by yielding to the tide. 
Long as to him who works for debt the 

day, 
Long as the night to her whose love 's away, 
Long as the year's dull circle seems to run 
When the brisk minor pants for twenty- 
one; 
So slow th' unprofitable moments roll 
That lock up all the functions of my soul, 40 
That keep me from myself, and still delay 
Life's instant business to a future day; 
That task which as we follow or despise, 
The eldest is a fool, the youngest wise; 
Which done, the poorest can no wants en- 
dure; 
And which not done, the richest must be 

poor. 
Late as it is, I put myself to school. 
And feel some comfort not to be a fool. 
Weak tho' I am of limb, and short of sight. 
Far from a lynx, and not a giant quite, 50 
I '11 do what Mead and Cheselden advise. 
To keep these limbs, and to preserve these 

eyes. 
Not to go back is somewhat to advance, 
And men must walk, at least, before they 

dance. 
Say, does thy blood rebel, thy bosom 

move 
With wretched Av'rice, or as wretched 

Love? 
Know there are words and spells which can 

control, 
Between the fits, this fever of the soul; 
Know there are rhymes which, fresh and 

fresh applied, 59 

Will cure the arrant'st puppy of his pride. 
Be furious, envious, slothful, mad, or drunk. 
Slave to a wife, or vassal to a punk, 
A Switz, a High-Dutch or a Low-Dutch 

bear; 
All that we ask is but a patient ear. 



i88 



SATIRES 



'T is the first virtue vices to abhor, 
And the first wisdom to be fool no more: 
But to the world no bugbear is so great 
As want of figure and a small Estate. 
To either India see the merchant fly, 
Scared at the spectre of pale Poverty! 70 
See him with pains of body, pangs of 

soul, 
Burn thro' the Tropics, freeze beneath the 

Pole! 
Wilt thou do nothing for a nobler end, 
Nothing to make Philosophy thy friend ? 
To stop thy foolish views, thy long desires. 
And ease thy heart of all that it admires ? 
Here Wisdom calls, ' Seek Virtue first, be 

bold! 
As gold to silver. Virtue is to gold.' 
/"There London's voice, * Get money, money 
/ still ! 

I And then let Virtue follow if she will.' 80 

This, this the saving doctrine preach'd to 

all. 
From low St. James's up to high St. Paul; 
From him whose quills stand quiver'd at 

his ear. 
To him who notches sticks at Westmin- 
ster. 
Barnard in spirit, sense, and truth 

abounds ; 

* Pray then what wants he ? ' Fourscore 

thousand pounds; 
A pension, or such harness for a slave 
As Bug now has, and Dorimant would 

have. 
Barnard, thou art a cit, with all thy worth ; 
But Bug and D*l their Honours! and so 

forth. 90 

Yet ev'ry child another song will sing, 

* Virtue, brave boys ! 'tis Virtue makes a 

King.' 

True, conscious Honour is to feel no sin; 

He 's arm'd without that 's innocent within: 

Be this thy screen, and this thy wall of 
brass ; 

Compared to this a Minister 's an Ass. 
And say, to which shall our applause be- 
long, 

This new Court jargon, or the good old 
song ? 

The modern language of corrupted peers, 

Or what was spoke at Cressy and Poic- 
tiers ? 100 

Who counsels best ? who whispers, ' Be 
but great. 

With praise or infamy — leave that to Fate ; 



Get Place and Wealth, if possible with 

grace ; 
If not, by any means get Wealth and 

Place: ' 
(For what ? to have a Box where eunuchs 

sing. 
And foremost in the circle eye a King ?) 
Or he who bids thee face with steady view 
Proud Fortune, and look shallow Great- 
ness thro'. 
And, while he bids thee, sets th' example 

too? 
If such a doctrine, in St. James's air, no 
Should chance to make the well-drest 

rabble stare; . 
If honest S[chut]z take scandal at a spark 
That less admires the Palace than the 

Park; 
Faith, I shall give the answer Reynard 

gave: 
' I cannot like, dread Sir ! your royal cave ; 
Because I see, by all the tracks about. 
Full many a beast goes in, but none come 

out.' 
Adieu to Virtue, if you 're once a slave : ^1/ 
Send her to Court, you send her to her 
^ grave. 

It Well, if a King 's a lion, at the least 120 
The people are a many-headed beast; 
Can they direct what measures to pursue. 
Who know themselves so little what to 

do? 
Alike in nothing but one lust of gold. 
Just half the land would buy, and half be 

sold: 
Their country's wealth our mightier misers 

drain. 
Or cross, to plunder provinces, the main ; 
The rest, some farm the Poor-box, some 

the Pews; 
Some keep Assemblies, and would keep the 

Stews; 
Some with fat bucks on childless dotards 

fawn; 130 

Some win rich widows by their chine and 

brawn; 
While with the silent growth of ten per 

cent.. 
In dirt and darkness, hundreds stink con- 
tent. 
Of all these ways, if each pursues his 

own, 
Satire, be kind, and let the wretch alone; 
But show me one who has it in his power 
To act consistent with himself an hour. 



SIXTH EPISTLE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE 189 



Sir Job sail'd forth, the ev'ning bright and 

still, 
* No place on earth (he cried) like Green- 
wich hill! ' 139 
Up starts a palace: lo, th' obedient base 
Slopes at its foot, the woods its sides em- 
brace. 

The silver Thames reflects its marble face. ^ 
Now let some whimsy, or that Devil 

within 
Which guides all those who know not 

what they mean, 
But give the Knight (or give his Lady) 

spleen; 

' Away, away! take aU your scaffolds down. 
For snug 's the word: My dear! we '11 live 

in town.' 
At am'rous Flavio is the stocking 

thrown ? 
That very night he longs to lie alone. 
The fool whose wife elopes some thrice a 

quarter, 150 

For matrimonial solace dies a martyr. 
Did ever Proteus, Merlin, any witch, 
Transform themselves so strangely as 

the Rich ? 
Well, but the Poor — the Poor have the 

same itch; 
They change their weekly barber, weekly 

news. 
Prefer a new japanner to their shoes. 
Discharge their garrets, move their beds, 

and run 
(They know not whither) in a chaise and 

one; 
They hire their sculler, and when once 

aboard 
Grow sick, and damn the climate — like a 

Lord. 160 

You laugh, half Beau, half Sloven if I 

stand. 
My wig all powder, and all snufE my band ; 
You laugh if coat and breeches strangely 

vary. 
White gloves, and linen worthy Lady Mary! 
But when no prelate's lawn, with hair-shirt 

lin'd. 
Is half so incoherent as my mind. 
When (each opinion with the next at strife. 
One ebb and flow of follies all my life) 
I plant, root up, I build, and then confound ; 
Turn round to square, and square again to 

round; 170 

You never change one muscle of your face, 
You think this madness but a common case; 



Nor once to Chancery nor to Hale apply, 
Yet hang your lip to see a seam awry! 
Careless how ill I with myself agree. 
Kind to my dress, my figure, — not to me. 
Is this my Guide, Philosopher, and Friend ? 
This he who loves me, and who ought to 

mend ? 
Who ought to make me (what he can, or 

none) 
That man divine whom Wisdom calls her 

own; 180 

Great without Title, without Fortune 

bless'd; 
Rich ev'n when plunder'd, honour'd while 

oppress'd; 
Lov'd without youth, and foUow'd without 

power; 
At home tho' exiled, free tho' in the Tower; 
In short, that reas'ning, high, immortal 

thing. 
Just less than Jove, and much above a 

King; 
Nay, half in Heav'n — except (what's 

mighty odd) 
A fit of Vapours clouds this Demigod. 



THE SIXTH EPISTLE OF THE 
FIRST BOOK OF HORACE 

TO MR. MURRAY 

' Not to admire, is all the art I know. 

To make men happy, and to keep them so.' 

(Plain truth, dear Murray! needs no flow-\ 

ers of speech, '' 

So take it in the very words of Creech.) 

This vault of air, this congregated ball, 
Self-centred sun, and stars that rise and 

fall. 
There are, my Friend! whose philosophic 

eyes 
Look thro', and trust the Ruler with his 

skies; 
To him commit the hour, the day, the 

year, 
And view this dreadful All — without a 

fear. 10 

Admire we then what earth's low en- 
trails hold, 
Arabian shores, or Indian seas infold; 
All the mad trade of fools and slaves for 

gold? 

Or Popularity ? or Stars and Strings ? 
The Mob's applauses, or the gifts of Kings ? 



190 



SATIRES 



Say with what eyes we ought at courts to 

gaze, 
And pay the great our homage of amaze ? 
If weak the pleasure that from these 

can spring, 
The fear to want them is as weak a thing: 
Whether we dread, or whether we desire, 20 
In either case, believe me, we admire: 
Whether we joy or grieve, the same the 

curse, 
Surprised at better, or surprised at worse. 
Thus good or bad, to one extreme betray 
Th' unbalanc'd mind, and snatch the man 

away; 
For Virtue's self may too much zeal be had; 
The worst of madmen is a saint run mad. 

Go then, and if you can, admire the state 
Of beaming diamonds and reflected plate; 
Procure a Taste to double the surprise, 30 
And gaze on Parian charms with learned 

eyes; 
Be struck with bright brocade or Tyrian dye, 
Our birthday nobles' splendid livery. 
If not so pleas'd, at council-board rejoice 
To see their judgments hang upon thy 

voice ; 
From morn to night, at Senate, Rolls, and 

Hall, 
Plead much, read more, dine late, or not at 

all. 
But wherefore all this labour, all this strife ? 
For Fame, for Riches, for a noble Wife ? 
Shall one whom Nature, Learning, Birth, 

conspired 40 

To form, not to admire, but be admired. 
Sigh while his Chlog, blind to Wit and 

Worth, 
Weds the rich dulness of some son of 

earth ? 
Yet Time ennobles or degrades each line; 
It brighten'd Craggs's, and may darken 

thine. 
And what is Fame ? the meanest have their 

day; 
The greatest can but blaze and pass away. 
Graced as thou art with all the power of 

words, 
So known, so honour'd, at the House of 

Lords : 
Conspicuous scene! another yet is nigh 50 
(More silent far), where Kings and Poets 

lie; 
Where Murray (long enough his country's 

pride) 
Shall be no more than Tully or than Hyde! 



Rack'd with sciatics, martyr'd with the 

stone, 
Will any mortal let himself alone ? 
See Ward, by batter'd Beaux invited over. 
And desp'rate misery lays hold on Dover. 
The case is easier in the mind's disease; 
There all men may be cured whene'er they 

please. 
Would ye be bless'd ? despise low joys, "j ^ 

low gains; 60 I \ 

Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains; | ' 
Bevirtuous, and be happy for your pains. J 
*lBut art thou one whom new opinions 

sway. 
One who believes as ^findal leads the way ? 
Who Virtue and a Church alike disowns, 
Thinks that but words, and this but brick 

and stones ? 
Fly then on all the wings of wild desire, 
Admire whate'er the maddest can admire. 
Is Wealth thy passion ? hence ! from pole 

to pole. 
Where winds can carry, or where waves 

can roll, 70 

For Indian spices, for Peruvian gold. 
Prevent the greedy, and outbid the bold: 
Advance thy golden mountain to the skies; 
On the broad base of fifty thousand rise; 
Add one round hundred, and (if that 's not 

fair) 
Add fifty niore, and bring it to a square: 
For, mark th' advantage; just so many 

score 
Will gain a wife with half as many more, 
Procure her beauty, make that beauty 

chaste, 
And then such friends — as cannot fail to 

last. 80 

A man of Wealth is dubb'd a man of 

Worth; 
Venus shall give him form, and Antis birth. 
(Believe me, many a German Prince is 

worse, 
Who proud of pedigree is poor of purse.) 
His Wealth brave Timon gloriously con- 
founds; 
Ask'd for a groat, he gives a hundred 

pounds; 
Or if three ladies like a luckless play. 
Takes the whole house upon the poet's day. 
Now, in such exigencies not to need, 
Upon my word you must be rich indeed: 90 
A noble superfluity it craves. 
Not for yourself, but for your fools and 

knaves; 



FIRST EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 191 



Something which for your honour they may 
cheat, 

And which it much becomes you to forget. 

If Wealth alone then make and keep us 
blest, 

Still, still be getting; never, never rest. 
y But if to Power and Place your passion 
' lie. 

If in the pomp of. life consist the joy; 

Then hire a slave, or (if you will) a Lord, 

To do the honours, and to give the word; 

Tell at your Levee, as the crowds ap- 
proach, lOI 

To whom to nod, whom take into your 
coach, 

Whom honour with your hand; to make 
remarks, 

W^ho rules in Cornwall, or who rules in 
Berks: 

*This may be troublesome, is near the 
chair; 

That makes three Members, this can choose 
a Mayor.' 

rnstructed thus, you bow, embrace, pro- 
test. 

Adopt him son, or cousin at the least. 

Then turn about, and laugh at your own 

Or if your life be one continued treat, no 
If to live well means nothing but to eat; 
Up, up ! cries Gluttony, 't is break of day. 
Go drive the deer, and drag the finny 

prey: 
With hounds and horns go hunt an appe- 
tite — 
So Russell did, but could not eat at night; 
Call'd happy dog the beggar at his door. 
And envied thirst and hunger to the poor. 

Or shall we every decency confound, 
Thro' Taverns, Stews, and Bagnios, take 

our round ? 119 

Go dine with Chartres, in each vice outdo 
K[innou]rs lewd cargo, or Ty[rawle]y's 

crew, 
From Latian Syrens, French Circean feasts. 
Return well travell'd, and transform 'd to 

beasts; 
Or for a titled punk, or foreign flame. 
Renounce our country, and degrade our 

name ? 
If, after all, we must with Wilmot own 
The cordial drop of life is Love alone. 
And Swift cry wisely, * Vive la bagatelle ! ' 
The man that loves and laughs must sure 

do well. 



Adieu — if this advice appear the worst, 130 
Ev'n take the counsel which I gave you 

first: 
Or better precepts if you can impart, 
Why do; I '11 follow them with all my 
heart. 



THE FIRST EPISTLE- OF THE 
SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 

The identification of Augustus with Georg-e 
II. makes it necessary to take much of this poem 
ironically. George II., since his accession ten 
years before this was written (l7o7), had shown 
absolute indifference to the literature of Eng- 
land. The critical portions of the satire un-\ 
doubtedly present Pope's real judgment of con-/ 
temporary literature. 

ADVERTISEMENT 

The reflections of Horace, and the judg- 
ments passed in his Epistle to Augustus, 
seemed so seasonable to the present times, that 
I could not help applying them to the use of 
my own country. The author thought them 
considerable enough to address them to his 
prince, whom he paints with all the great and 
good qualities of a monarch upon whom the 
Romans depended for the increase of an abso- 
lute Empire ; but to make the poem entirely 
English, I was willing to add one or two of 
those which contribute to the happiness of a 
Free People, and are more consistent with the 
welfare of our neighbours. 

This epistle will show the learned world / 
to have fallen into two mistakes : one, that 
Augustus was a Patron of poets in general ; 
whereas he not only prohibited all but the best 
writers to name him, but recommended that 
care even to the civil magistrate ; Admonehat 
prcetores. ne paterentur nomen suum ohsolejieri, 
&c. ; the other, that this piece was only a 
general Discourse of Poetry ; whereas it was 
an Apology for the Poets, in order to render 
Augustus more their patron. Horace here 
pleads the cause of his contemporaries ; first, 
against the Taste of the town, whose humour i 
it was to magnify the authors of the preceding ■ 
age ; secondly, against the Court and Nobility, 
who encouraged only the writers for the The- 
atre ; and, lastly, against the Emperor himself, 
who had conceived them of little use to the 
Government. He shows (by a view of the 
progress of Learning, and the change of Taste 
among the Romans) that the introduction of 
the Polite Arts of Greece had given the writ- 
ers of his time great advantages over their pre- 
decessors ; that their Morals were much im- 



192 



SATIRES 



proved, and the license of those ancient poets 
restrained ; that Satire and Comedy were be- 
come more just and useful ; that whatever 
extravagancies were left on the stag-e were 
owing to the ill taste of the nobility ; that 
poets, under due regulations, were in many 
respects useful to the tState ; and concludes, 
that it was upon them the Emperor himself 
must depend for his Fame with posterity. 

We may further learn from this Epistle, that 
Horace made his court to this great Prince, by 
writing with a decent freedom toward him, 
with a just contempt of his low flatterers, and 
with a manly regard to his own character. 

TO AUGUSTUS 

While you, great Patrou of Mankind ! sus- 
tain 
The balanced world, and open all the 

main; 
Your country, chief, in Arms abroad de- 
fend, 
At home with Morals, Arts, and Laws 

amend; 
How shall the Muse, from such a monarch, 

steal 
An hour, and not defraud the public weal ? 
Edward and Henry, now the boast of 
Fame, 
And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name, 
After a life of gen'rous toils endured, — 
The Gaul subdued, or property secured, 10 
Ambition humbled, mighty cities storm'd, 
Or laws establish'd, and the world re- 
form 'd — 
Closed their long glories with a sigh, to 

find 
Th' unwilling gratitude of base Mankind! 
All human Virtue, to its latest breath, 
Finds Envy never conquer'd but by Death. 
The great Alcides, ev'ry labour past. 
Had still this monster to subdue at last: 
Sure fate of all, beneath whose rising ray 
Each star of meaner merit fades away! 20 
Oppress'd we feel the beam directly beat; 
Those suns of glory please not till they set. 
To thee the World its present homage 
pays, 
The harvest early, but mature the praise: 
Great friend of Liberty! in Kings a name 
Above all Greek, above all Roman fame; 
Whose word is truth, as sacred and revered 
As Heav'n's own oracles from altars heard. 
Wonder of Kings! like \vhom to mortal eyes 
None e'er has risen, and none e'er shall 
rise. 30 



Just in one instance, be it yet confest 
Your people, sir, are partial in the rest; 
Foes to all living worth except your own, 
And advocates for folly dead and gone. 
Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow 

old; 
It is the Rust we value, not the Gold. 
Chaucer's worst ribaldry is learn'd by rote, 
Aird beastly Skelton heads of houses quote ; 
One likes no language but the Faery 

Queen ; 
A Scot will fight for Christ's Kirk o' the 

Green ; 40 

And each true Briton is to Ben so civil, 
He swears the Muses met him at the Devil. 
Tho' justly Greece her eldest sons admires. 
Why should not we be wiser than our sires ? 
In every public virtue we excel. 
We build, we paint, we sing, we dance, as 

well; 
And learned Athens to our art must stoop, 
Could she behold us tumbling thro' a hoop. 
If time improve our Wit as well as 

Wine, 
Say at what age a poet grows divine ? ^^ 50 
Shall we, or shall we not, account him so 
Who died, perhaps, a hundred years ago ? 
End all dispute; and fix the year precise 
When British bards begin t' immortalize ? 
' Who lasts a century can have no flaw; 
I hold that Wit a classic, good in law.' 
Suppose he wants a year, will you com- 
pound ? 
And shall we deem him ancient, right, and 

sound. 
Or damn to all eternity at once 
At ninety-nine a modern and a dunce ? 60 
* We shall not quarrel for a year or two; 
By courtesy of England he maj' do.' 

Then by the rule that made the horsetail 

bare, 
I pluck out year by year, as hair by hair. 
And melt down Ancients like a heap of 

snow. 
While you, to measure merits, look in 

Stowe, 
And estimating authors by the year. 
Bestow a garland only on a bier. 

Shakespeare (whom you and every play- 
house bill 
Style the divine! the matchless! what you ^ 

will) 70 > 

For Gain, not Glory, wing'd his roving 

flight, 
And grew immortal in his own despite. 



FIRST EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 193 



Ben, old and poor, as little seem'd to heed 
The life to come in every poet's creed. 
Who now reads Cowley ? if he pleases yet. 
His Moral pleases, not his pointed Wit: 
Forgot his Epic, nay, Pindaric art. 
But still I love the language of his heart. 
' Yet surely, surely these were famous 

men! 
What boy but hears the sayino;s of old Ben ? 
In all debates where Critics bear a part, 81 
Not one but nods, and talks of Jonson's 

Art, 
Of Shakespeare's Nature, and of Cowley's 

Wit; 
How Beaumont's judgment check'd what 

Fletcher writ; 
How Shad well hasty, Wycherley was slow; 
But for the passions. Southern sure, and 

Rowe! 
These, only these, support the crowded 

stage. 
From eldest Heywood down to Cibber's 

age.' 
All this may be; the People's voice is odd; 
It is, and it is not, the voice of God. 90 

To Gammer Gurton if it give the bays. 
And yet deny the Careless Husband praise. 
Or say our fathers never broke a rule; 
Why then, I say, the Public is a fool. 
But let them own that greater faults than 

we 
They had, and greater virtues, I '11 agree. 
Spenser himself affects the obsolete, 
And Sidney's verse halts ill on Roman 

feet; 
Milton's strong pinion now not Heav'n can 

bound. 
Now, serpent-like, in prose he sweeps the 

ground. 100 

In quibbles Angel and Archangel join, 
And God the Father turns a School-divine. 
Not that I 'd lop the beauties from his 

book. 
Like slashing Bentley with his desp'rate 

hook ; 
Or damn all Shakespeare, like th' affected 
/ fool 

At Court, who hates whate'er he read at 

School. 
But for the Wits of either Charles's days. 
The mob of gentlemen who wrote with 

ease; 
Sprat, Carew, Sedley, and a hundred more 
(Like twinkling stars the Miscellanies 

o'er), no 



One simile that solitary shines 

In the dry Desert of a thousand lines. 

Or lengthen'd thought, that gleams thro' 

many a page. 
Has sanctified whole poems for an age. 
I lose my patience, and I own it too. 
When works are censured not as bad, but 

new; 
While, if our elders break all Reason's laws. 
These fools demand not pardon, but ap- 
plause. 
On Avon's bank, where flowers eternal 

blow, 
If I but ask if any weed can grow, 120 

One tragic sentence if I dare deride. 
Which Betterton's grave action dignified. 
Or well - mouth'd Booth with emphasis 

proclaims, 
(Tho' but perhaps a muster-roll of names). 
How will our fathers rise up in a rage. 
And swear all shame is lost in George's \ 

age! / 

You 'd think no fools disgraced the former 

reign. 
Did not some grave examples yet remain, 
Who scorn a lad should teach his father 

skill. 
And having once been wrong, will be so 

still. 130 

He who, to seem more deep than you or I, 
Extols old bards, or Merlin's prophecy. 
Mistake him not; he envies, not admires, / 
And to debase the sons exalts the sires. 
Had ancient times conspired to disallow 
What then was new, what had been ancient 

now? 
Or what remain'd, so worthy to be read 
By learned critics of the mighty dead ? 
In days of ease, when now the weary 

sword 
Was sheath'd, and luxury with Charles re- 

stor'd, 140 

In every taste of foreign courts improv'd, 
* All by the King's example liv'd and lov'd.' 
Then peers grew proud in horsemanship 

t' excel ; 
Newmarket's glory rose, as Britain's fell; 
The soldier breathed the gallantries of 

France, 
And ev'ry flowery Courtier writ Romance. 
Then marble, soften'd into life, grew warm, 
And yielding metal flow'd to human form; 
Lely on animated canvas stole 
The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting 

soul. 150 



194 



SATIRES 



No wonder then, when all was love and 

sport, 
The willing Muses were debauch'd at 

court; 
On each enervate string they taught the 

note 
To pant, or tremble thro' a Eunuch's throat. 
But Britain, changeful as a child at 

Now calls in princes, and now turns away. 
Now Whig, now Tory, what we loved we 

hate; 
Now all for Pleasure, now for Church and 

State ; 
Now for Prerogatives, and now for laws; 
Effects unhappy, from a noble cause. i6c 
Time was, a sober Englishman would 

knock 
His servants up, and rise by five o'clock; 
Instruct his family in ev'ry rule. 
And send his wife to church, his son to 

school. 
To worship like his fathers was his care; 
To teach their frugal virtues to his heir; 
To prove that Luxury could never hold, 
And place on good security his gold. 
Now times are changed, and one poetic 

itch 
Has seized the Court and City, Poor and 

Rich ; 170 

Sons, sires, and grandsires, all will wear 

the bays; 
Our wives read Milton, and our daughters 

plays; 
To theatres and to rehearsals throng, 
And all our grace at table is a song. 
I, who so oft renounce the Muses, lie: 
Not ** 's self e'er tells more fibs than I. 
When sick of Muse, our follies we deplore, 
And promise our best friends to rhyme no 

more. 
We wake next morning in a raging fit, 
And call for pen and ink to show our wit. 
He served a 'prenticeship who sets up 

shop; 181 

Ward tried on puppies and the poor his 

drop; 
Ev'n Radcliff's doctors travel first to 

France, 
Nor dare to practise till they 've learn'd to 

dance. 
Who builds a bridge that never drove a 

pile? 
(Should Ripley venture, all the world would 

smile), 



But those who cannot write, and those who 



can. 



All rhyme, and scrawl, and scribble, to a 



man. 



rgo 



Yet, Sir, reflect; the mischief is not 

great ; 
These madmen never hurt the Church or 

State : 
Sometimes the folly benefits mankind. 
And rarely av'rice taints the tuneful mind. 
Allow him but his plaything of a Pen, 
He ne'er rebels, or plots, like other men: 
Flight of cashiers, or mobs, he '11 never 

mind. 
And knows no losses while the Muse is 

kind. 
To cheat a friend or ward, he leaves to 

Peter; 
The good man heaps up nothing but mere 

metre. 
Enjoys his Garden and his Book in quiet; 
And then — a perfect hermit in his diet. 200 

Of little use the man you may suppose 
Who says in verse what others say in 

prose; 
Yet let me show a Poet 's of some weight, \ 
And (tho' no soldier) useful to the State. / 
What will a child learn sooner than a song ?^ 
What better teach a foreigner the tongue — 
What 's long or short, each accent where 

to place. 
And speak in public with some sort of 

grace ? 
I scarce can think him such a worthless 

thing, 209 

Unless he praise some monster of a King; 
Or virtue or religion turn to sport. 
To please a lewd or unbelieving Court. 
Unhappy Dry den ! — In all Charles's days 
Roscommon only boasts unspotted bays; 
And in our own (excuse some courtly 

stains) 
No whiter page than Addison remains. 
He from the taste obscene reclaims our 

youth, ' 

And sets the passions on the side of Truth, 
Forms the soft bosom with the gentlest 

Art, 219 

And pours each human virtue in the heart. 
Let Ireland tell how wit upheld her cause. 
Her trade supported, and supplied her 

laws; 
And leave on Swift this grateful verse en- 
graved, 
* The rights a Court attack'd, a Poet saved.' 



FIRST EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 195 



Behold the hand that wrought a Nation's 

cure, 
Stretch'd to relieve the idiot and the poor; 
Proud vice to brand, or injured worth adorn, 
And stretch the ray to ages yet unborn. 
Not but there are, who merit other palms; 
Hopkins and Sternhold glad the heart with 

psalms; 230 

The boys and girls whom charity main- 
tains 
Implore your help in these pathetic strains: 
How could Devotion touch the country 

pews 
Unless the Gods bestow'd a proper Muse ? 
Verse cheers their leisure, verse assists 

their work, 
Verse prays for peace, or sings down pope 

and Turk. 
The silenced preacher yields to potent 

strain. 
And feels that Grace his prayer besought 

in vain; 
The blessing thrills thro' all the lab'ring 

throng, 
And Heav'n is won by violence of song. 240 

Our rural ancestors, with little blest, 
Patient of labour when the end was rest, 
Indulged the day that housed their annual 

grain 
With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful 

strain. 
The joy their wives, their sons, and ser- 
vants share, 
Ease of their toil, and partners of their 

care: 
The Laugh, the Jest, attendants on the 

bowl, 
Smooth'd ev'ry brow, and open'd ev'ry 

soul: 
With growing years the pleasing license 

grew. 
And taunts alternate innocently flew. 250 
But Times corrupt, and Nature, ill inclin'd. 
Produced the point that left a sting be- 
hind; 
Till friend with friend, and families at 

strife, 
Triumphant malice raged thro' private life. 
Who felt the wrong, or fear'd it, took th' 

alarm, 
Appeal'd to law, and Justice lent her arm. 
At length by wholesome dread of statutes 

bound. 
The poets learn'd to please, and not to 

wound: 



Most warp'd to Flatt'ry's side; but some, 

more nice, 

Preserv'd the freedom, and forbore the 

vice. 260 

Hence Satire rose, that just the medium hit, 

And heals with morals what it hurts with 

wit. 
We conquer'd France, but felt our captive's 

charms. 
Her arts victorious triumph'd o'er our 

arms; 
Britain to soft refinements less a foe. 
Wit grew polite, and numbers learn'd to 

flow. 
Waller was smooth; but Dryden taught^ 

to join 
The varying verse, the full resounding 

line, 
The long majestic march, and energy di- 
vine: 

Tho' still some traces of our rustic vein 
And splay-foot verse remain'd, and will re- 
main. 271 - 
Late, very late, correctness grew our care. 
When the tired nation breathed from civil 

war 
Exact Racine and Corneille's noble fire 
Show'd us that France had something to 

admire. 
Not but the tragic spirit was our own, 
And full in Shakespeare, fair in Otway,, 

shone; 
But Otway fail'd to polish or refine. 
And fluent Shakespeare scarce effaced a 

line. 
Ev'n copious Dryden wanted, or forgot, 280 
The last and greatest art — the art to blot. 

Some doubt if equal pains or equal fire 
The humbler Muse of Comedy require. 
But in known images of life I guess 
The labour greater, as th' indulgence less. 
Observe how seldom ev'n the best succeed: 
Tell me if Congreve's fools are fools in- 
deed? 
What pert low dialogue has Farquhar writ! 
How Van wants grace, who never wanted 

wit: 
The stage how loosely does Astrea tread, 
Who fairly puts all characters to bed ! 291 
And idle Gibber, how he breaks the laws, 
To make poor Pinkey eat with vast ap- 
plause! 
But fill their purse, our poet's work is 

done. 
Alike to them by pathos or by pun. 



196 



SATIRES 



O you! whom Vanity's light bark con- 
veys 

On Fame's mad voyage by the wind of 
praise, 

With what a shifting gale your course you 

For ever sunk too low, or borne too high. 

Who pants for glory finds but short repose; 

A breath revives him, or a breath o'er- 
throws. 301 

Farewell the Stage! if just as thrives the 
play 

The silly bard grows fat or falls away. 
There still remains, to mortify a Wit, 

The many-headed monster of the pit; 

A senseless, worthless, and unhonour'd 
crowd. 

Who, to disturb their betters, mighty 
proud, 

Clatt'ring their sticks before ten lines are 
spoke, 

Call for the Farce, the Bear, or the Black- 
joke. _ 309 

What dear delight to Britons farce affords ! 

Ever the taste of Mobs, but now of Lords: 

(Taste! that eternal wanderer, which flies 

From heads to ears, and now from ears to 
eyes.) 

The play stands still; damn action and dis- 
course! 

Back fly the scenes, and enter foot and 
horse ; 

Pageants on pageants, in long order drawn. 

Peers, heralds, bishops, ermine, gold, and 
lawn; 

The Champion too! and, to complete the 
jest. 

Old Edward's armour beams on Gibber's 
breast. 319 

With laughter sure Democritus had died. 

Had he beheld an audience gape so wide. 

Let bear or elephant be e'er so white. 

The people sure, the people are the sight! 

Ah, luckless Poet! stretch thy lungs and 
roar, 

That bear or elephant shall heed thee 
more; 

While all its throats the gallery extends. 

And all the thunder of the pit ascends! 

Loud as the wolves on Orcas' stormy steep 

Howl to the roarings of the northern deep. 

Such is the shout, the long applauding 
note, 330 

At Quints high plume, or Oldfield's petti- 
coat; " "~ 



Or when from court a birthday suit be- 

stow'd. 
Sinks the lost actor in the tawdry load. 
Booth enters — hark! the universal peal! 
' But has he spoken ? ' — Not a syllable. 
' What shook the stage, and made the peo- 
ple stare ? ' 
Cato's long wig, flower'd gown, and lack- 

er'd chair. 
Yes, lest you think I rally more than 

teach. 
Or praise malignly arts I cannot reach, 
Let me for once presume t' instruct the 

times, 340 

To know the Poet from the man of rhymes: 
'T is he who gives my breast a thousand 

pains. 
Can make me feel each passion that he 

feigns. 
Enrage, compose, with more than magic art. 
With pity and with terror tear my heart. 
And snatch me o'er the earth, or thro' the 

air. 
To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and 

where. 
But not this part of the poetic state 
Alone deserves the favour of the great. 
Think of those authors. Sir, who would 

rely 350 

More on a reader's sense than gazer's eye. 
Or who shall wander where the Muses 

sing ? 
Who climb their mountain, or who taste 

their spring ? 
How shall we fill a library with Wit, 
When Merlin's Cave is half unfurnish'd 

My liege! why writers little claim your 
thought 
I guess, and, with their leave, will tell the 

fault. 
We Poets are (upon a poet's word) 
Of all mankind the creatures most absurd: 
The season when to come, and when to go, 
To sing, or cease to sing, we never know; 
And if we will recite nine hours in ten, 362 
You lose your patience just like other men. 
Then, too, we hurt ourselves when, to de- 
fend 
A single verse, we quarrel with a friend; 
Repeat, unask'd ; lament, the wit 's too fine 
For vulgar eyes, and point out every line: 
But most when straining with too weak a 

wing 
We needs will write epistles to the King; 



SECOND EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 197 



< 



/ And from the moment we oblige the town, 
Expect a Place or Pension from the Crown; 
Or dubb'd historians by express command, 
T' enrol your triumphs o'er the seas and 

land, 373 

Be eall'd to Court to plan some work di- 
vine. 
As once for Louis, Boileau and Racine. 
Yet think, great Sir! (so many virtues 

shown) 
Ah! think what poet best may make them 

known ; 
Or choose at least some minister of grace, 
Fit to bestow the Laureate's weighty place. 
Charles, to late times to be transmitted 

fair, 380 

Assign'd his figure to Bernini's care; 
And great Nassau to Kneller'g hand de- 
creed 
To fix him graceful on the bounding steed : 
So well in paint and stone they judg'd of 

merit; 
But Kings in Wit may want discerning 

spirit. 
The hero William, and the martyr Charles, 
One knighted Blackmore, and one pension'd 

Quarles, 
Which made old Ben and surly Dennis 

swear 
*No Lord's anointed, but a Russian bear.' 
Not with such majesty, such bold relief, 
The forms august of King, or conquering 

Chief, 391 

E'er swell'd on marble, as in verse have 

shined 
(In polish'd verse) the manners and the 

mind. 
O! could I mount on the Mseonian wing. 
Your arms, your actions, your repose, to 

sing! 
What seas you travers'd, and what fields 

you fought! 
Your country's peace how oft, how dearly 

bought! 
How barb'rous rage subsided at your word. 
And nations wonder'd while they dropp'd 

the sword! 
How, when you nodded, o'er the land and 

deep, 400 

Peace stole her wing, and wrapt the world 

in sleep, 
Till earth's extremes your mediation own. 
And Asia's tyrants tremble at your throne! 
But verse, alas! your Majesty disdains; 
And I 'm not used to panegyric strains. 



The zeal of fools offends at any time. 
But most of all the zeal of fools in rhyme. 
Besides, a Fate attends on all I write, 
That when I aim at praise they say I bite. 
A vile encomium doubly ridicules: 410 

There 's nothing blackens like the ink of 

fools. 
If true, a woful likeness; and, if lies, 
• Praise undeserv'd is scandal in disguise.' 
Well may he blush who gives.it, or re- 
ceives; 
And when I flatter, let my dirty leaves 
(Like Journals, Odes, and such forgotten 

things. 
As Eusden, Philips, Settle, writ of Kings) 
Clothe spice, line trunk, or, flutt'ring in a 

row. 
Befringe the rails of Bedlam and Soho. 



THE SECOND EPISTLE OF THE 
SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 

Ludentis speciem dabit, et torquebitur. — Hor. 

Dear Colonel, Cobham's and your coun- 
try's friend, 
You love a verse; take such as I can send. 
A Frenchman comes, presents you with 

his boy. 
Bows and begins — ' This lad, sir, is of 

Blois: 
Observe his shape how clean! his locks how 

curl'd. 
My only son, I 'd have him see the world : 
His French is pure; his voice too — you 

shall hear — 
Sir, he 's your slave for twenty pound a 

year. 
Mere wax as yet, you fashion him with 

ease. 
Your barber, cook, upholst'rer; what you 

please: 10 

A perfect genius at an opera song — 
To say too much might do my honour 

wrong. 
Take him with all his virtues on my word ; 
His whole ambition was to serve a Lord. 
But, Sir, to you with what would I not 

part ? 
Tho', faith, I fear, 't will break his mother's 

heart. 
Once (and but once) I caught him in a lie. 
And then, unwhipp'd, he had the grace to 

cry: 



igS 



SATIRES 



The fault he has I fairly shall reveal 
(Could you o'erlook but that), it is — to 

steal.' 20 

If, after this, you took the graceless lad, 

Could you complain, my friend, he prov'd 

so bad ? 
Faith, in such case, if you should prosecute, 
I think Sir Godfrey should decide the suit; 
Who sent the thief that stole the cash 

away. 
And punish'd him that put it in his way. 
Consider then, and judge me in this 

light; 
I told you when I went I could not write; 
You said the same; and are you discontent 
With laws to which you gave your own 

assent ? 30 

Nay, worse, to ask for verse at such a 

time! 
D'ye think me good for nothing but to 

rhyme ? 
In Anna's wars a Soldier, poor and old, 
Had dearly earn'd a little purse of gold: 
Tired in a tedious march, one luckless 

night 
He slept, (poor dog!) and lost it to a doit. 
This put the man in such a desp'rate mind, ^ 
Between revenge, and grief, and hunger I 

join'd I 

Against the foe, himself, and all mankind, J 
He leap'd the trenches, scaled a castle 

wall, 40 

Tore down a standard, took the fort and 

all. 
•Prodigious well!' his great commander 

cried. 
Gave him much praise, and some reward 

beside. 
Next pleas'd His Excellence a town to 

batter 
(Its name I know not, and 'tis no great 

matter) ; 
' Go on, my friend (he cried), see yonder 

walls! 
Advance and conquer ! go where Glory 

calls! 
More honours, more rewards, attend the 

brave.' 
Don't you remember what reply he 

gave ? — 
' D' ye think me, noble Gen'ral, such a 

sot ? 50 

Let him take castles who has ne'er a groat.' 

Bred up at liome, full early I begun 
To read in Greek the wrath of Peleus' son: 



Besides, my father taught me from a lad 
The better art, to know the good from bad 
(And little sure imported to remove. 
To hunt for truth in Maudlin's learned 

grove). 
But knottier points we knew not half so 

well. 
Deprived us soon of our paternal cell; 
And certain laws, by suff'rers thought 
unjust, 60 

Denied all posts of profit or of trust. 
Hopes after hopes of pious papists fail'd, 
While mighty William's thund'ring arm 

prevail'd; 
For right hereditary tax'd and fin'd 
He stuck to poverty with peace of mind; 
And me, the Muses help'd to undergo it; 
Convict a Papist he, and I a Poet. 
But (thanks to Homer) since I live and 

thrive. 
Indebted to no prince or peer alive. 
Sure I should want the care of ten Mon- 
roes, 70 
If I would scribble rather than repose. 
Years foU'wing years steal something ev'ry 

day, 
At last they steal us from ourselves away; 
In one our frolics, one amusements end. 
In one a Mistress drops, in one a Friend. 
This subtle thief of life, this paltry time. 
What will it leave me if it snatch my 

rhyme ? 
If ev'ry wheel of that unwearied mill 
That turn'd ten thousand verses, now stands 
still ? 
But, after all, what would ye have me 
do, 80 

When out of twenty I can please not two ? 
When this Heroics only deigns to praise. 
Sharp Satire that, and that Pindaric lays ? 
One likes the pheasant's wing, and one the 

leg; 
The vulgar boil, the learned roast an egg: 
Hard task to hit the palate of such guest«, 
When Oldfield loves what Dartineuf de- 
tests ! 
But grant I may relapse, for want of 
grace, > 

Again to rhyme, can London be the place ? 
Who there his muse, or self, or soul at- 
tends, 90 
In Crowds, and Courts, Law, Bus'ness, 

Feasts, and Friends ? 
My counsel sends to execute a deed: 
A poet begs me I will hear him read. 



^j^fXtMjt- 



Y\^»-qftA-*^ 



(yfJ^ 



SECOND EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE. 199 



In Palace yard at uiiie you '11 find nie 
there — 

At ten, for certain, sir, in Bloomsbury- 
square — 

Before the Lords at twelve my cause comes 
on — 

There 's a rehearsal, Sir, exact at one. — 

' Oh ! but a Wit can study in the streets, 

And raise his mind above the mob he 
meets.' 

Not quite so well, however, as one ought: 100 

A hackney-coach may chance to spoil a 
thought, 

And then a nodding beam, or pig of lead, 

God knows, may hurt the very ablest 
head. 

Have you not seen, at Guildhall's narrow 
pass, 

Two Aldermen dispute it with an Ass ? 

And Peers give way, exalted as they are, 

Ev'n to their own s-r-v — nee in a car ? 
Go, lofty Poet, and in such a crowd 

Sing thy sonorous verse — but not aloud. 

Alas ! to grottos and to groves we run, no 

To ease and silence, ev'ry Muse's son : 

Blackmore himself, for any grand effort 

Would drink and doze at Tooting or Earl's- 
court. 

How shall I rhyme in this eternal roar ? 

How match the bards whom none e'er 
match'd before ? 
The man who, stretch'd in Isis' calm re- 
treat. 

To books and study gives sev'n years com- 
plete. 

See ! strew'd with learned dust, his night- 
cap on. 

He walks an object new beneath the sun ! 

The boys flock round him, and the peo- 
ple stare: 120 

So stiff, so mute ; some Statue you would 
swear 

Stept from its pedestal to take the air ! 

And here, while town, and court, and city 
roars, 

With Mobs, and Duns, and Soldiers, at 
their doors. 

Shall I, in London, act this idle part, 

Composing songs for fools to get by heart ? 
The Temple late two brother sergeants 
saw, 

Who deem'd each other oracles of law ; 

With equal talents these congenial souls, 

One lull'd th' Exchequer, and one stunn'd 
the Rolls ; 130 



Each had a gravity would make you split, 
And shook his head at Murray as a wit; 
'T was, * Sir, your law ' — and ' Sir, your 
eloquence,' 

* Yours, Cowper's manner ' — and * Yours, 

Talbot's sense.' 
Thus we dispose of all poetic merit, 
Yours Milton's genius, and mine Homer's 

spirit. 
Call Tibbald Shakespeare, and he '11 swear 

the Nine, 
Dear Cibber ! never match'd one ode of 

thine. 
Lord ! how we strut thro' Merlin's Cave, to 

see 139 

No poets there but Stephen, you, and me. 
Walk with respect behind, while we at ease 
W^eave laurel crowns, and take what names 

we please. 

* My dear Tibullus ! (if that will not do) 
Let me be Horace, and be Ovid you: 

Or, I 'm content, allow me Dryden's strains. 
And you shall rise up Otway for your 

pains.' 
Much do I suffer, much, to keep in peace 
This jealous, waspish, wronghead, rhyming 

race ; 
And much must flatter, if the whim should 

bite 149 

To court applause by printing what I write : 
But let the fit pass o'er ; 1 'm wise enough 
To stop my ears to their confounded stuff. 
In vain bad rhymers all mankind reject. 
They treat themselves with most profound 

respect ; 
'T is to small purpose that you hold your 

tongue. 
Each, prais'd within, is happy all day long : 
But how severely with themselves proceed 
The men who write such verse as we can 

read ? 
Their own strict judges, not a word they 

spare 
That wants or force, or light, or weight, or 

care ; 160 

Howe'er unwillingly it quits its place, 
Nay, tho' at Court (perhaps) it may find 

grace. 
Such they'll degrade; and, sometimes in 

its stead, 
In downright charity revive the dead ; 
Mark where a bold expressive phrase ap- 
pears. 
Bright thro' the rubbish of some hundred 

years ; 



200 



SATIRES 



Command old words, that long have slept, 

to wake, 
Words that wise Bacon or brave Raleigh 

spake ; 
Or bid the new be English ages hence 
(For Use will father what 's begot by 

Sense) ; 170 

Pour the full tide of eloquence along, 
Serenely pure, and yet divinely strong, 
Rich with the treasures of each foreign 

tongue ; 

Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine, 
But show no mercy to an empty line; 
Then polish all with so much life and ease, 
You think 't is Nature, and a knack to 

please; 
But ease in writing flows from Art, not 

Chance, 
As those move easiest who have learn'd to 

dance. 
If such the plague and pains to write by 

rule, 180 

Better (say I) be pleas'd, and play the 

fool; 
Call, if you will, bad rhyming a disease. 
It gives men happiness, or leaves them 

ease. 
There lived in primo Georgii (they record) 
A worthy member, no small fool, a Lord; 
Who, tho' the House was up, delighted 

sate. 
Heard, noted, answer'd, as in full debate: 
In all but this a man of sober life. 
Fond of his friend, and civil to his wife; 
Not quite a madman tho' a pasty fell, 190 
And much too wise to walk into a well. 
Him the damn'd doctors and his friends 

immured, 
They bled, they cupp'd, they purged; in 

short they cured; 
Whereat the gentleman began to stare — 
* My friends! (he cried) pox take you for 

your care! 
That, from a patriot of distinguish'd note, 
Have bled and purged me to a simple vote.' 
Well, on the whole, plain prose must be 

my fate: 
Wisdom (curse on it!) will come soon or 

late. 
There is a time when poets will grow 

dull : 200 

I '11 ev'n leave verses to the boys at school. 
To rules of poetry no more confin'd, 
I '11 learn to smooth and harmonize my 

mind, 



Teach ev'ry thought within its bounds to 

roll, 
And keep the equal measure of the soul. 

Soon as I enter at my country door. 
My mind resumes the thread it dropt be- 
fore; 
Thoughts which at Hyde-park Corner I 

forgot. 
Meet and rejoin me in the pensive grot: 
There all alone, and compliments apart, 210 
I ask these sober questions of my heart : 
If, when the more you drink the more 

you crave, 
You tell the doctor; when the more you 

have 
The more you want, why not, with equal 

ease. 
Confess as well your folly as disease ? 
The heart resolves this matter in a trice, 
* Men only feel the smart, but not the vice.' 
When golden angels cease to cure the 

evil, 
You give all royal witchcraft to the devil: 
When servile Chaplains cry, that birth and 

place 220 

Endue a Peer with Honour, Truth, and 

Grace, 
Look in that breast, most dirty D[uke]! be 

fair. 
Say, can you find out one such lodger 

there ? 
Yet still, not heeding what your heart can 

teach. 
You go to church to hear these flatt'rers 

preach. 
Indeed, could wealth bestow or Wit or 

Merit, 
A grain of Courage, or a spark of Spirit, 
The wisest man might blush, I must agree. 
If D[evonshire] lov'd sixpence more than 

he. 
If there be truth in law, and use can 

give ^ 230 

A property, that 's yours on which you live. 
Delightful Abs-court, if its fields afford 
Their fruits to you, confesses you its lord: 
All Worldly' s hens, nay, partridge, sold to 

town. 
His venison too, a guinea makes your own : 
He bought at thousands what with better 

wit 
You purchase as you want, and bit by bit: 
Now, or long since, what diff'rence will be 

found ? 
You pay a penny, and he paid a pound. 



SECOND EPISTLE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 201 



Heathcote himself, and such large-acred 

men, 240 

Lords of fat E'sham, or of Lincoln Fen, 
Buy every stick of wood that lends them 

heat, 
Buy every pullet they afford to eat; 
Yet these are wights who fondly call their 

own 
Half that the Devil o'erlooks from Lincoln 

town. 
The laws of God, as well as of the land. 
Abhor a perpetuity should stand: 
Estates have wings, and hang in Fortune's 

power, 
Loose on the point of ev'ry wav'ring hour. 
Ready by force, or of your own accord, 250 
By sale, at least by death, to change their 

lord. 
Man? and for ever? Wretch! what 

wouldst thou have ? 
Heir urges heir, like wave impelling wave. 
All vast possessions (just the same the 

case 
Whether you call them Villa, Park, or 

Chase), 
Alas, my Bathurst! what will they avail ? 
Join Cotswood hills to Saperton's fair dale; 
Let rising granaries and temples here, 
There mingled farms and pyramids, ap- 
pear; 
Link towns to towns with avenues of 

oak, 260 

Enclose whole towns in walls; 't is all a 

joke! 
Inexorable death shall level all, 
And trees, and stones, and farms, and 

farmer fall. 
Gold, silver, ivory, vases sculptured high, 
Paint, marble, gems, and robes of Persian 

dye, 
There are who have not — and, thank 

Heav'n, there are 
Who, if they have not, think not worth 

their care. 
Talk what you will of Taste, my friend, 
rv, / you '11 find 

/Two of a face as soon as of a mind. 
/ Why, of two brothers, rich and restless 

one 270 






Ploughs, burns, manures, and toils from 

sun to sun. 
The other slights, for women, sports, and 

wines, 
All Townshend's turnips, and all Grosve- 

nor's mines: 



Why one, like Bubb, with pay and scorn 
content, 

Bows and votes on in Court and Parlia- 
ment ; 

One, driv'n by strong benevolence of soul, 

ShTill fly, like Oglethorpe, from pole to pole; 

Is known alone to that directing Power 278 

Wlio forms the genius in the natal hour; 

That God of Nature, who, within us still. 

Inclines our action, not constrains our will; 

Various of temper, as of face or frame. 

Each individual: His great end the same. 
Yes, Sir, how small soever be my heap, 

A part I will enjoy as well as keep. 

My heir may sigh, and think it want of 
grace 

A man so poor would live without a place; 

But sure no statute in his favour says. 

How free or frugal I shall pass my days; 

I who at some times spend, at others spare. 

Divided between carelessness and care. 291 

'T is one thing, madly to disperse my store ; 

Another, not to heed to treasure more; 

Glad, like a boy, to snatch the first good 
day. 

And pleas'd, if sordid want be far away. 
What is 't to me (a passenger, God wot) 

Whether my vessel be first-rate or not ? 

The ship itself may make a better figure. 

But I that sail, am neither less nor bigger. 

I neither strut with ev'ry fav'ring breath, 300 

Nor strive with all the tempest in my 
teeth ; 

In Power, Wit, Figure, Virtue, Fortune, 
placed 

Behind the foremost, and before the last. 
* But why all this of Av'rice ? I have 
none.' 

I wish you joy, sir, of a tyrant gone: 

But does no other lord it at this hour. 

As wild and mad ? the avarice of Pow'r ? 

Does neither Rage inflame nor Fear ap- 
pall ? 

Not the black fear of Death, that saddens 
all? 

With terrors round, can Reason hold her 
throne, 310 

Despise the known, nor tremble at th' un- 
known ? 

Survey both worlds, intrepid and entire. 

In spite of witches, devils, dreams, and fire ? 

Pleas'd to look forward, pleas'd to look be- 
hind, 

And count each birthday with a grateful 
miud ? 



202 



SATIRES 



/Has life no sourness, drawn so near its 
V end? 

Canst thou endure a foe, forgive a friend ? 
Has age but melted the rough parts away, 
As winter fruits grow mild ere they decay ? 
Or will you think, my friend! your bus'ness 

done, 320 

When of a hundred thorns you pull out 

one ? 
Learn to live well, or fairly make your 

will; 
You 've play'd and lov'd, and ate and 

drank, your fill. 
Walk sober off, before a sprightlier age 
Comes titt'ring on, and shoves you from the 

stage ; 
Leave such to trifle with more grace and 

ease, 
Whom Folly pleases, and whose follies 

please. 



SATIRES OF DR. JOHN DONNE, 
DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S, VERSI- 
FIED 

Quid vetat et nosmet Lucili scripta legentes 
Quffirere, num illius, num rerum dura negarit 
Versiculos natura magis factos, et euates 
MoUius ? Horace. 

The paraphrases of Donne were, by Pope's 
statement, done several years before their pub- 
lication in 1735. 

SATIRE II 

Yes, thank my stars! as early as I knew 
This town, I had the sense to hate it too; 
Yet here, as ev'n in Hell, there must be 

still 
One giant vice, so excellently ill. 
That all beside one pities, not abhors ; 
As who knows Sappho, smiles at other 

whores. 
I grant that Poetry 's a crying sin; 
It brought (no doubt) th' excise and army 

in: 
Catch'd like the plague, or love, the Lord 

knows how. 
But that the cure is starving, all allow. 10 
Yet like the Papist's is the Poet's state. 
Poor and disarm'd, and hardly worth your 

hate! 
Here a lean bard, whose wit could never 

give 



Himself a dinner, makes an actor live: 
Tlie thief condemn'd, in law already dead. 
So prompts and saves a rogue who cannot 

read. 
Thus as the pipes of some carv'd organ 

move. 
The gilded puppets dance and mount above, 
Heav'd by the breath th' inspiring bellows 

blow: 
Th' inspiring bellows lie and pant below. 20 
One sings the Fair; but songs no longer 

move; 
No rat is rhymed to death, nor maid to 

love: 
In Love's, in Nature's spite the siege they 

hold. 
And scorn the flesh, the Devil, and all but 

gold. 
These write to Lords, some mean re- 
ward to get. 
As needy beggars sing at doors for meat: 
Those write because all write, and so have 

still 
Excuse for writing, and for writing ill. 
Wretched, indeed! but far more wretched 

yet 
Is he who makes his meal on others' wit : 30 
'T is changed, no doubt, from what it was 

before; 
His rank digestion makes it wit no more: 
Sense pass'd thro' him no longer is the 

same; 
For food digested takes another name. 
I pass o'er all those confessors and 

martyrs, 
Who live like S[u]tt[o]n, or who die like 

Chartres," — - 
Out-cant old Esdras, or out-drink his heir, 
Out-usure Jews, or Irishmen out-swear; 
Wicked as pages, who in early years 
Act sins which Prisca's confessor scarce 

hears. 40 

Ev'n those I pardon, for whose sinful sake 
Schoolmen new tenements in hell must 

make ; 
Of whose strange crimes no canonist can 

tell 
In what commandment's large contents 

they dwell. 
One, one man only breeds my just of- 
fence. 
Whom crimes gave wealth, and wealth gave 

impudence: 
Time, that at last matures a clap to pox, 
Whose gentle progress makes a calf an ox, 



SATIRES OF DR. JOHN DONNE 



203 



And brings all natural events to pass, 
Hath made him an attorney of an ass. 50 
No young Divine, new beneficed, can be 
More pert, more proud, more positive than 

he. 
What further could I wish the fop to do. 
But turn a Wit, and scribble verses too ? 
Pierce the soft labyrinth of a lady's ear 
With rhymes of thisjt?er cent, and thai per 

year ; 
Or court a wife, spread out his wily parts. 
Like nets, or lime twigs, for rich widows' 

hearts; 
Call himself barrister to ev'ry wench. 
And woo in language of the Pleas and 

Bench; 60 

Language which Boreas might to Auster 

hold, 
More rough than forty Germans when they 

scold. 
Curs'd be the wretch, so venal and so vain, 
Paltry and proud as drabs in Drury Lane. 
'T is such a bounty as was never known. 
If Peter deigns to help you to your own. 
What thanks, what praise, if Peter but 

supplies ! 
And what a solemn face if he denies ! 
Grave, as when pris'ners shake the head, 

and swear 
'T was only suretyship that brought them 

there. 70 

His office keeps your parchment fates en- 
tire. 
He starves with cold to save them from the 

fire; 
For you he walks the streets thro' rain or 

dust. 
For not in chariots Peter puts his trust; 
For you he sweats and labours at the laws, 
Takes God to witness he affects your cause. 
And lies to ev'ry Lord in ev'ry thing, 
Like a King's favourite — or like a King. 
These are the talents that adorn them all, 
From wicked Waters ev'n to godly [Paul]. 
Not more of simony beneath black gowns, 
Nor more of bastardy in heirs to crowns. 82 
In shillings and in pence at first they deal. 
And steal so little, few perceive they steal; 
Till like the sea, they compass all the land. 
From Scots to Wight, from Mount to Dover 

strand; 
And when rank widows purchase luscious 

nights, 
Or when a Duke to Jansen punts at 

White's, 



Or city heir in mortgage melts away, 
Satan himself feels far less joy than they. 90 
Piecemeal they win this acre first, then 

that. 
Glean on, and gather up the whole estate; 
Then strongly fencing ill-got wealth by law. 
Indentures, cov'nants, articles, they draw. 
Large as the fields themselves, and larger 

far 
Than civil codes, with all their glosses, 

are; 
So vast, our new divines, we must confess. 
Are fathers of the church for writingr less. 
But let them write; for you each rogue im- 
pairs 99 
The deeds, and dext'rously omits ses heires : 
No commentator can more slily pass 
O'er a learn'd unintelligible place; 
Or in quotation shrewd di\'ines leave out 
Those words that would against them clear 

the doubt. 
So Luther thought the Paternoster long_, 
When doom'd to say his beads and even- 
song; 
But having cast his cowl, and left those 

laws. 
Adds to Christ's prayer, the Power and 

Glory clause. 
The lands are bought; but where are to 

be found 
Those ancient woods that shaded all the 

ground ? 1 10 

We see no new-built palaces aspire. 
No kitchens emulate the vestal fire. 
Where are those troops of Poor, that 

throng'd of yore 
The good old Landlord's hospitable door ? 
Well I could wish that still, in lordly 

domes, 
Some beasts were kill'd, tho' not whole 

hecatombs ; 
That both extremes were banish'd from 

their walls, 
Carthusian fasts and fulsome Bacchanals; 
And all mankind might that just mean ob- 
serve, 
In which none e'er could surfeit, none could 

starve. 120 

These are good works, 't is true, we all 

allow. 
But, oh ! these works are not in fashion 

now: 
Like rich old wardrobes, things extremely 

rare. 
Extremely fine, but what no man will wear. 



204 



SATIRES 



Thus much I 've said, I trust without 
offence ; 
Let no Court Sycophant pervert my sense, 
Nor sly informer watch, these words to draw 
Within the reach of Treason or the Law. 



SATIRE IV 

/ Well, if it be my time to quit the stage, 
\ Adieu to all the follies of the age ! 
I die in charity with fool and knave. 
Secure of peace at least beyond the grave. 
I 've had my Purgatory here betimes. 
And paid for all my satires, all my rhymes. 
The poet's Hell, its tortures, fiends, and 

flames. 
To this were trifles, toys, and empty 

names. 
With foolish pride my heart was never 

fired, 9 

Nor the vain itch t' admire or be admired: 
I hoped for no commission from His Grace; 
I bought no benefice, I begg'd no place; 
Had no new verses nor new suit to show. 
Yet went to Court ! — the Devil would 

have it so. 
But as the fool that in reforming days 
Would go to mass in jest (as story says) 
Could not but think to pay his fine was odd. 
Since 't was no form'd design of serving 

God; 
So was I punish'd, as if full as proud 
As prone to ill, as negligent of good, 20 

As deep in debt, without a thought to " 

As vain, as idle, and as false as they 
Who live at Court, for going once that 

way ! 
Scarce was I enter'd, when, behold ! there 

came 
A thing which Adam had been posed to 

name; 
Noah had refused it lodging in his ark, 
Where all the race of reptiles might em- 
bark; 
A verier monster than on Afric's shore 
The sun e'er got, or slimy Nilus bore. 
Or Sloane or Woodward's wondrous shelves 

contain, 30 

Nay, all that lying travellers can feign. 
The watch would hardly let him pass at 

noon, 
At night would swear him dropp'd out of 

the moon: 



One whom the Mob, when next we find or 

make 
A Popish plot, shall for a Jesuit take, 
And the wise justice, starting from his 

chair. 
Cry, ' By your priesthood, tell me what 



you are 



Such was the wight: th' apparel on his 

back, 
Tho' coarse, was rev'rend, and tho' bare, 

was black. 
The suit, if by the fashion one might 

guess, 40 

Was velvet in the youth of good Queen 

Bess, 
But mere tuff-taffety what now remain'd: 
So Time, that changes all things, had or- 

dain'd! 
Our sons shall see it leisurely decay, 
First turn plain rash, then vanish quite 

away. 
This thing has travell'd, speaks each lan- 
guage too, 
And knows what 's fit for ev'ry state to 

do; 
Of whose best phrase and courtly accent 

join'd 
He forms one tongue, exotic and refin'd. 
Talkers I've learn'd to bear; Motteux I 

knew, 50 

Henley himself I 've heard, and Budgell 

too. 
The Doctor's wormwood style, the hash of 

tongues 
A Pedant makes, the storm of Gonson's 

lungs. 
The whole artill'ry of the terms of War, 
And (all those plagues in one) the bawling 

Bar: 
These I could bear; but not a rogue so 

civil 
Whose tongue will compliment you to the 

Devil: 
A tongue that can cheat widows, cancel 

scores, 
Make Scots speak treason, cozen subtlest 

whores, 
With royal favourites in flatt'ry vie, 60 

And Oldmixon and Burnet both outlie. 
He spies me out; I whisper, ' Gracious 

God! 
What sin of mine could merit such a rod. 
That all the shot of dulness now must be 
From this thy blunderbuss discharged on 

me!' 



SATIRES OF DR. JOHN DOXNE 



205 



* Permit,' he cries, ' no stranger to your 

fame, 
To crave your sentiment, if * * * 's your 

name. 
What speech esteem you most ? * The 

King's,' said I. 
But the best words ? — ' O, sir, the Dic- 

tion'ry.' 69 

You miss my aim ; I mean the most acute, 
And perfect speaker ? — * Onslow, past 

dispute.' 
But, Sir, of writers ? — * Swift, for closer 

style. 
But Iloadley for a period of a mile.' 
Why, yes, 't is granted, these indeed may 

pass; 
Good common linguists, and so Panurge 

was; 
Nay, troth, th' Apostles (tho' perhaps too 

rough) 
Had once a pretty gift of tongues enough: 
Yet these were all poor gentlemen! I dare 
Affirm 't was Travel made them what they 

were. 
Thus others' talents having nicely shown, 80 
He came by sure transition to his own; 
Till I cried out, ' You prove yourself so 

able, 
Pity you was not druggerman at Babel; 
For had they found a linguist half so good, 
I make no question but the tower had 

stood.' 

* Obliging Sir! for courts you sure were 

made. 
Why then for ever buried in the shade ? 
Spirits like you should see and should be 

seen ; 
The King would smile on you — at least 

the Queen. 
Ah, gentle Sir! you courtiers so cajole 

us 90 

But TuUy has it Nunquam minus solus : 
And as for courts, forgive me if I say. 
No lessons now are taught the Spartan 

way. 
Tho' in his pictures lust be full display'd, 
Few are the converts Aretine has made; 
And tho' the court show Vice exceeding 

clear. 
None should, by my advice, learn Virtue 

there.' 
At this entranc'd, he lifts his hands and 

eyes, 
Squeaks like a high-stretch'd lutestring, 

and replies, 



* Oh! 'tis the sweetest of all earthly 

things 100 

To gaze on Princes, and to talk of Kings! ' 
'Then, happy man who shows the tombs! 

(said I) 
He dwells amidst the royal family; 
He ev'ry day from King to King can walk. 
Of all our Harries, all our Edwards talk, 
And get, by speaking truth of monarchs 

dead. 
What few can of the living: Ease and 

Bread.' 

* Lord, Sir, a mere mechanic! strangely low. 
And coarse of phrase — your English all 

are so. 
How elegant your Frenchmen!' — 'Mine, 

d'ye mean ? no 

I have but one; I hope the fellow's clean.' 
' O Sir, politely so! nay, let nie die. 
Your only wearing is your paduasoy.' 
' Not, Sir, my only; I have better still, 
And this you see is but my dishabille.' — 
Wild to get loose, his patience I provoke, 
Mistake, confound, object at all he spoke: 
But as coarse iron, sharpen'd, mangles 

more, 
And itch most hurts when anger'd to a 

sore. 
So when you plague a fool, 'tis still the 

curse, 120 

You only make the matter worse and 

worse. 
He pass'd it o'er; affects an easy smile 
At all my peevishness, and turns his style. 
He asks, * What news ? ' I tell him of new 

Plays, 
New Eunuchs, Harlequins, and Operas. 
He hears, and as a still, with simples in it, 
Between each drop it gives stays half a 

minute. 
Loath to enrich me with too quick replies, 
By little and by little drops his lies. 
Mere household trash! of birthnights, balls, 

and shows, 130 "A 

More than ten Holinsheds, or Halls, or \ 

Stowes. 
When the Queen frown'd or smiled he 

knows, and what 
A subtle minister may make of that: 
Who sins, with whom: who got his pension 

Or quicken'd a reversion by a drug: 
Whose place is quarter'd but three parts in 

four, 
And whether to a Bishop or a Whore: 



206 



SATIRES 



Who having lost his credit, pawa'd his 

rent, 
Is therefore fit to have a government: 
Who, in the secret, deals in stocks secure, 
And cheats th' unknowing widow and the 

poor: 141 

Who makes a trust or charity a job. 
And ofets an act of Parliament to rob: 
Why turnpikes rise, and how no cit nor 

clown 
Can gratis see the country or the town: 
Shortly no lad shall chuck, or lady vole, 
But some excising courtier will have toll: 
He tells what strumpet places sells for 

life. 
What 'squire his lands, what citizen his 

wife: 
And last (which proves him wiser still than 

all) 150 

What lady's face is not a whited wall. 
As one of Woodward's patients, sick, and 

sore, 
I puke, I nauseate — yet he thrusts in 

more ; 
Trims Europe's balance, tops the states- 
man's part. 
And talks Gazettes and Postboys o'er by 

heart. 
Like a big wife at sight of loathsome meat 
Ready to cast, I yawn, I sigh, and sweat. 
Then as a licens'd spy, whom nothing can 
Silence or hurt, he libels the great man; 
Swears ev'ry place entail'd for years to 

come, 160 

In sure succession to the day of doom. 
' He names the price for every office paid , 
And says our wars thrive ill because de- 

lay'd: 
Nay, hints 't is by connivance of the Court 
That Spain robs on, and Dunkirk 's still a 

port. 
Not more amazement seiz'd on Circe's 

guests 
To see themselves fall endlong into beasts. 
Than mine, to find a subject staid and wise 
Already half turn'd traitor by surprise. 
I felt th' infection slide from him to me, 170 
As in the pox some give it to get free; 
And quick to swallow me, methought I 

saw 
One of our Giant Statues ope its jaw. 
In that nice moment, as another lie 
Stood just a-tilt, the Minister came by. 
To him be flies, and bows and bows again. 
Then, close as Umbra, joins the dirty train, 



Not Fannius' self more impudently near, 
When half his nose is in his prince's ear. 
I quaked at heart; and, still afraid to see 
All the court fiU'd with stranger things 

than he, i8i 

Ran out as fast as one that pays his bail 
And dreads more actions, hurries from a 

jail. 
Bear me, some God ! Oh, quickly bear 

me hence 
To wholesome Solitude, the nurse of sense, 
Where contemplation prunes her ruffled 

wings, 
And the free soul looks down to pity 

Kings ! 
There sober thought pursued th' amusing 

theme. 
Till Fancy colour'd it, and f orm'd a dream : 
A vision hermits can to Hell transport, 190 
And forced ev'n me to see the damn'd at 

court. 
Not Dante, dreaming all th' infernal state, 
Beheld such scenes of envy, sin, and hate. 
Base fear becomes the guilty, not the free, 
Suits tyrants, plunderers, but suits not me: 
Shall I, the terror of this sinful town. 
Care if a liv'ried Lord or smile or frown ? 
Who cannot flatter, and detest who can, 
Tremble before a noble serving man ? 
O my fair mistress. Truth ! shall I quit\ 

thee 200 / 

For huffing, braggart, puff nobility ? 
Thou who, since yesterday, hast roU'd o'er 

all 
The busy idle blockheads of the ball. 
Hast thou, O sun ! beheld an emptier sort 
Than such as swell this bladder of a court ? 
Now pox on those who show a Court in 

Wax! 
It ought to bring all courtiers on their 

backs; 
Such painted puppets ! such a varnish'd 

race 
Of hollow gewgaws, only dress and face ! 
Such waxen noses, stately staring things 210 
No wonder some folks bow, and think them 

Kings. 
See ! where the British youth, engaged 

no more 
At Fig's, at White's, with felons, or a 

whore, 
Pay their last duty to the Court, and come 
All fresh and fragrant to the drawing room; 
In hues as gay, and odours as divine. 
As the fair fields they sold to look so fine. 



SATIRES OF DR. JOHN DONNE 



207 



* That 's velvet for a kiug ! ' the flatt'rer 

swears ; 
'Tis true, for ten days hence 'twill be 

King Lear's. 
Our Court may justly to our Stage give 

rules, 220 

That helps it both to fools' coats and to 

fools. 
And why not players strut in courtiers' 

clothes ? 
For these are actors too as well as those: 
Wants reach all states; they beg but better 

drest, 
And all is splendid poverty at best. 

Painted for sight, and essenced for the 

smell, 
Like frigates fraught with spice and cochi- 
neal. 
Sail in the Ladies: how each pirate eyes 
So weak a vessel and so rich a prize ! 
Top-gallant he, and she in all her trim: 230 
He boarding her, she striking sail to him. 

* Dear countess ! you have charms all 

hearts to hit ! ' 
And, ' Sweet Sir Fopling ! you have so 

much wit ! ' 
Such wits and beauties are not prais'd for 

nought. 
For both the beauty and the wit are 

bought. 
'T would burst ev'n Heraclitus with the 

spleen 
To see those antics, Fopling and Cour- 

tin : 
The Presence seems, with things so richly 

odd, 
The mosque of Mahound, or some queer 

pagod. 
See them survey their limbs by Durer's 

rules, 240 

Of all beau-kind the best proportion'd 

fools ! 
Adjust their clothes, and to confession 

draw 
Those venial sins, an atom, or a straw: 
But oh ! what terrors must distract the 

soul 
Convicted of that mortal crime, a hole; 
Or should one pound of powder less be- 
spread 
Those monkey tails that wag behind their 

head ! 
Thus finish'd, and corrected to a hair. 
They march, to prate their hour before the 

Fair. 



So first to preach a white-glov'd Chaplain 
goes, 250 

With band of lily, and with cheek of rose, 

Sweeter than Sharon, in immaculate trim, 

Neatness itself impertinent in him. 

Let but the ladies smile, and they are blest: 

Prodigious ! how the things protest, pro- 
test. 

Peace, fools ! or Gonson will for papists 
seize you. 

If once he catch you at your Jesu ! Jesu ! 
Nature made ev'ry Fop to plague his 
"^ brother, 

Just as one Beauty mortifies another. 

But here 's the captain that will plague 
them both; 260 

Whose air cries, Arm ! whose very look 's 
an oath. 

The captain 's honest, Sirs, and that 's 
enough, 

Tho' his soul's bullet, and his body buff. 

He spits foreright; his haughty chest be- 
fore, 

Like batt'ring rams, beats open ev'ry door; 

And with a face as red, and as awry, 

As Herod's hang-dogs in old tapestry, 

Scarecrow to boys, the breeding woman's 
curse. 

Has yet a strange ambition to look worse; 

Confounds the civil, keeps the rude in awe, 

Jests like a licens'd Fool, commands like 

law. 271 

Frighted, I quit the room, but leave it so 

As men from jails to execution go; 

For hung with deadly sins I see the wall. 

And lin'd with giants deadlier than them 
all. 

Each man an Ask apart, of strength to 
toss, 

For quoits, both Temple-bar and Charing- 
cross. 

Scared at the grisly forms, I sweat, I fly, 

And shake all o'er, like a discover'd spy. 
Courts are too much for wits so weak as 
mine ; 280 

Charge them with Heav'n's Artill'ry, bold 
Divine ! 

From such alone the Great rebukes endure, 

Whose satire 's sacred, and whose rage se- 
cure: 

'T is mine to wash a few light stains, but 
theirs 

To deluge sin, and drown a Court in tears. 

Howe'er, what 's now apocrypha, my wit. 

In time to come, may pass for Holy Writ. 



208 



SATIRES 



EPILOGUE TO THE SATIRES 

IN TWO DIALOGUES. WRITTEN IN 1 738 

The first dialogue was originally entitled 

One Thousand Seven Hundred and thirty-eig^it, 
a Dialogue something like Horace. Johnson's 
London is said by Boswell to have been pub- 
lished on the same morning of May, 1738, and 
in spite of its anonymity to have made more 
stir than Pope's satire. 

DIALOGUE I 

Fr. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear 

in print, 
And when it comes, the Court see nothing 

in't: 
You grow correct, that once with rapture 

writ. 
And are, besides, too moral for a Wit. 
Decay of parts, alas ! we all must feel — 
Why now, this moment, don't I see you 

steal ? 
'T is all from Horace; Horace long before 

Said * Tories call'd him whig, and whigs a 

tory;' 
And taught his Romans, in much better 

metre, 
* To laugh at fools who put their trust in 

Peter.' 10 

But Horace, sir, was delicate, was nice; 
Bubo observes, he lash'd no sort of vice: 
Horace would say, Sir Billy served the 

crown. 
Blunt could do business, Higgins knew the 

town; 
In Sappho touch the failings of the sex. 
In rev'rend bishops note some small neg- 
lects. 
And own the Spaniards did a waggish 

thing. 
Who crept our ears, and sent them to the 

King. 
His sly, polite, insinuating style 
Could please at court, and make Augustus 

smile: 20 

An artful manager, that crept between 
His friend and shame, and was a kind of 

screen. 
But, 'faith, your very Friends will soon be 

sore; 
Patriots there are who wish you 'd jest no 

more. 



And where 's the glory ? 't will be only 

thought 
The great man never offer'd you a groat. 
Go see Sir Robert — 

P. See Sir Robert! — hum — 

And never laugh — for all my life to come; 
Seen him I have; but in his happier hour 
Of social Pleasure, ill exchanged for Power; 
Seen him, uncumber'd with a venal tribe. 
Smile without art, and win without a bribe. 
W^ould he oblige me ? let me only find 33 
He does not think me what he thinks man- 
kind. 
Come, come, at all I laugh he laughs, no 

doubt; 
The only diff'rence is — I dare laugh out. 
rF. Why, yes: with Scripture still you 

may be free; 
A horse-laugh, if you please, at Honesty; 
A joke on Jekyl, or some odd Old Whig, 
Who never changed his principle or wig. 40 
A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age, 
Whom all Lord Chamberlains allow the 

stage: 
These nothing hurts; they keep their fash- 
ion still, 
And wear their strange old virtue as they 

will. 
If any ask you, * Who 's the man so near 
His Prince, that writes in verse, and has 

his ear ? ' 
Why, answer, Lyttelton! and I '11 engage 
The worthy youth shall ne'er be in a 

rage; 
But were his verses vile, his whisper base. 
You 'd quickly find him in Lord Fanny's 

case. 50 

Sejanus, Wolsey, hurt not honest Fleury, 
But well may put some statesmen in a 

fury. 
Laugh then at any but at Fools or Foes; 
These you but anger, and you mend not 

those. 
Laugh at your friends, and if your friends 

are sore. 
So much the better, you may laugh the 

more. 
To Vice and Folly to confine the jest 
Sets half the world, God knows, against 

the rest. 
Did not the sneer of more impartial men 
At Sense and Virtue, balance all again. 6c 
Judicious Wits spread wide the ridicule, 
And charitably comfort knave and fool. 



EPILOGUE 



209 



P. Dear sir, forgive the prejudice of 

youth: 
Adieu Distinction, Satire, Warmth, and 

Truth! 
Come, harmless characters tliat no one hit; 
Come, Henley's oratory, Osborne's wit! 
The honey dropping from Favonio's tongue. 
The flowers of Bubo, and the flow of Yonge! 
The gracious dew of pulpit Eloquence, 
And all the well-whipt cream of courtly 

Sense 70 

That first was H[er]vey's, F[ox]'s next, 

and then 
The S[ena]te's, and then H[er]vey's once 

again, 
O come! that easy Ciceronian style, 
So Latin, yet so English all the while, 
As, tho' the pride of Middleton and Bland, 
All boys may read, and girls may under- 
stand! 
Then might I sing without the least offence. 
And all I sung should be the * Nation's 

Sense;' 
Or teach the melancholy Muse to mourn, 
Ha«g the sad verse on Carolina's urn, 80 
And hail her passage to the realms of 

rest. 
All parts perform'd, and all her children 

blest! 
So — Satire is no more — I feel it die — 
No Gazetteer more innocent than I — 
And let, a' God's name! ev'ry Fool and 

Knave 
Be graced thro' life, and flatter'd in his 

grave. 
F. Why so ? if Satire knows its time 

and place. 
You still may lash the greatest — in dis- 
grace ; 
For merit will by turns forsake them all; 
Would you know when ? exactly when they 

fall. 90 

But let all Satire in all changes spare 
Immortal S[elkir]k, and grave De[lawa]re. 
Silent and soft, as saints remove to Heav'n, 
All ties dissolv'd, and ev'ry sin forgiv'n, 
These may some gentle ministerial wing 
Receive, and place for ever near a King! 
There where no Passion, Pride, or Shame 

transport, 
Lull'd with the sweet Nepenthe of a Court: 
There where no father's, brother's, friend's 

disgrace 
Once break their rest, or stir them from 

their place ; 100 



when three Sov'reigns died could 



But past the sense of human miseries, 
All tears are wiped for ever from all eyes; 
No cheek is known to blush, no heart to 

throb. 
Save when they lose a Question or a Job. 
P. Good Heav'n forbid that I should 

blast their glory. 
Who know how like Whig ministers to 

Tory, 
And 

scarce be vext, 
Consid'ring what a gracious Prince was 

next. 
Have I, in silent wonder, seen such things 
As pride in slaves, and avarice in Kings ? 
And at a peer or peeress shall I fret, m 
WliQ_starYes a sister or forswears a debt ? 
Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast; wXk-.j*^ 
But shall the dignity of Vice be lost ? ' ■ i 
Ye Gods! shall Gibber's son, without re- 
buke. 
Swear like a Lord; or Rich outwhore a 

Duke? 
A fav'rite's porter with his master vie, 
Be bribed as often, and as often lie ? 
Shall Ward draw contracts with a states- 
man's skill ? 119 
Or Japhet pocket, like His Grace, a will ? 
Is it for Bond or Peter (paltry things) 
To pay their debts, or keep their faith, like 

Kings ? 
If Blount dispatch'd himself, he play'd the 

man, 
And so mayst thou, illustrious Passeran! 
But shall a printer, weary of his life. 
Learn from their books to hang himself 

and wife ? 
This, this, my friend, I cannot, must not 

bear; 
Vice thus abused demands a nation's care; 
This calls the Church to deprecate our sin, 
And hurls the thunder of the Laws on 

Gin. 130 

Let modest Foster, if he will, excel 
Ten Metropolitans in preaching well; 
A simple quaker, or a quaker's wife, 
Outdo Landaff in doctrine — yea, in life; 
Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame, 
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it 

fame. 
Virtue may choose the high or low degree, 
'Tis just alike to Virtue and to me; 
Dwell in a monk, or light upon a King, 
She 's still the same belov'd, contented 

thing. 140 



2IO 



SATIRES 



Vice is undone, if she forgets her birth, 
And stoops from angels to the dregs of 

earth; 
But 't is the Fall degrades her to a whore; 
Let Greatness own her, and she 's mean no 

more: 
Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts 

confess; 
Chaste Matrons praise her, and grave 

Bishops bless; 
In golden chains the willing world she 

draws, 
And hers the Gospel is, and hers the Laws; 
Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head. 
And sees pale Virtue carted in her stead. 
Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal car, 151 
Old England's genius, rough with many a 

scar, 
Dragg'd in the dust! his arms hang idly 

round, 
His flag inverted trails along the ground! 
Our youth, all liv'ried o'er with foreign 

gold. 
Before her dance! behind her crawl the 

old! 
See thronging millions to the pagod run, 
And offer country, parent, wife, or son! 
Hear her black trumpet thro' the laud pro- 
claim. 
That not to be corrupted is the shame. i6c 
In Soldier, Churchman, Patriot, Man in 

Power, 
'Tis Av'rice all. Ambition is no more! 
See all our nobles begging to be slaves! 
See all our fools aspiring to be knaves! 
The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore, 
Are what ten thousand envy and adore: 
All, all look up with reverential awe. 
At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the 

law: 
While Truth, Worth, Wisdom, daily they 

decry — 
* Nothing is sacred now but Villany.' 170 
Yet may this verse (if such a verse re- 
main) 
Show there was one who held it in disdain. 



DIALOGUE II 

Fr. 'T IS all a libel —■ Paxton, Sir, will 1 

say. 
P. Not yet, my friend! tomorrow 

'faith it may; 
And for that very cause I print to-day. 



How should I fret to mangle ev'ry line 
In rev'rence to the sins of Thirty-nine! 
Vice with such giant strides comes on 

amain, 
Invention strives to be before in vain; 
Feign what I will, and paint it e'er so 

strong, 
Some rising genius sins up to my song. 
F. Yet none but you by name the guilty 

lash; 10 

Ev'n Guthry saves half Newgate by a dash. 
Spare then the Person, ana expose the 

Vice. 
P. How, Sir! not damn the Sharper, but 

the Dice ? 
Come on then, Satire! gen'ral, unconfin'd, 
Spread thy broad wing, and souse on all 

the kind. 
Ye statesmen, priests, of one religion all! 
Ye tradesmen vile, in army, court, or hall! 
Ye rev'rend atheists! F. Scandal! name 

them, who ? 
P. Why that 's the thing you bid me not 

to do. 
Who starv'd a sister, who forswore a debt, 
I never named; the town 's inquiring yet. 21 
The pois'ning Dame — F. You mean — 

P. I don't. F. You do. 
P. See, now I keep the secret, and not 

you! 
The bribing Statesman — F. Hold, too 

high you go. 
P. The bribed Elector — F. There you 

stoop too low. 
p. I fain would please you, if I knew 

with what. 
Tell me, which knave is lawful game, 

which not ? 
Must great offenders, once escaped the 

crown. 
Like royal harts, be never more run down ? 
Admit your law to spare the Knight re- 
quires, 30 
As beasts of Nature may we hunt the 

Squires ? 
Suppose I censure — you know what I 

mean — 
To save a Bishop, may I name a Dean ? 
F. A Dean, sir? no: his fortune is not 

made; 
You hurt a man that 's rising in the trade. 
P. If not the tradesman who set up to- 
day, 
Much less the 'prentice who to-morrow 

may. 



EPILOGUE 



21 I 



Down, down, proud Satire! tho' a realm 

be spoil'd, 
Arraign no mightier thief than wretched 

Wild; 
Or, if a court or country 's made a job, 40 
Go drench a pickpocket, and join the Mob. 
But, Sir, 1 beg you — for the love of 

Vice — 
The matter 's weighty, pray consider 

twice — 
Have you less pity for the needy cheat. 
The poor and friendless villain, than the 

great ? 
Alas ! the small discredit of a bribe 
Scarce hurts the Lawyer, but undoes the 

Scribe. 
Then better sure it charity becomes 
To tax Directors, who (thank God !) have 

plums; 
Still better Ministers, or if the thing 50 
May pinch ev'n there — why, lay it on a 

King. 
F. Stop ! stop ! 

P. Must Satire then nor rise nor fall ? 
Speak out, and bid me blame no rogues at 

all. 
F. Yes, strike that Wild, I '11 justify the 

blow. 
P. Strike ? why the man was hang'd 

ten years ago: 
Who now that obsolete example fears ? 
Ev'n Peter trembles only for his ears. 
F. What, always Peter ? Peter thinks 

you mad; 
You make men desp'rate, if they once are 

bad; 
Else might he take to Virtue some years 

hence — 60 

P. As S[elkir]k, if he lives, will love the 

Prince. 
F. Strange spleen to S[elkir]k ! 
P. Do I wrong the man ? 

God knows I praise a Courtier where I 

can. 
When I confess there is who feels for fame. 
And melts to goodness, need 1 Scarb'row 

name ? 
Pleased let me own, in Esher's peaceful 

grove 
(Where Kent and Nature vie for Pelham's 

love), 
The scene, the master, opening to my view, 
I sit and dream I see my Craggs anew ! 

Ev'n in a Bishop I can spy desert; 70 
Seeker is decent, Rundel has a heart; 



Manners with candour are to Benson giv'n ; 
To Berkley ev'ry virtue under Heav'n. 
But does the Court a worthy man re- 
move ? 
That instant, I declare, he has my love: 
I shun his zenith, court his mild decline. 
Thus Somers once and Halifax were mine: 
Oft in the clear still mirror of retreat 
I studied Shrewsbury, the wise and great: 
Carleton's calm sense and Stanhope's noble 

flame 80 

Compared, and knew their gen'rous end 

the same; 
How pleasing Atterbury's softer hour ! 
How shined the soul, unconquer'd, in the 

Tower ! 
How can I Pulteney, Chesterfield, forget. 
While Roman Spirit charms, and Attic 

Wit? 
Argyle, the state's whole thunder born to 

wield. 
And shake alike the senate and the field ? 
Or Wyndham, just to freedom and the 

throne. 
The Master of our Passions and his own ? 
Names which I long have lov'd, nor lov'd 

in vain, gc 

Rank'd with their friends, not number'd 

with their train; 
And if yet higher the proud list should end, 
Still let me say, — no foll'wer, but a 

Friend. 
Yet think not friendship only prompts 

my lays; 
I follow Virtue ; where she shines I praise, 
Point she to priest or elder, Whig, or Tory, 
Or round a quaker's beaver cast a glory. 
I never (to my sorrow I declare) 
Dined with the Man of Ross or my Lord 

Mayor. 
Some in their choice of friends (nay, look 

not grave) 100 

Have still a secret bias to a knave: 
To find an honest man I beat about, 
And love him, court him, praise him, in or 

out. 
F. Then why so few commended ? 
P. Not so fierce; 

Find you the Virtue, and I '11 find the | 

Verse. 
But random praise — the task can ne'er be 

done; 
Each mother asks it for her booby son ; 
Each widow asks it for the best of men, 
For him she weeps, for him she weds again. 



212 



SATIRES 



Praise cannot stoop, like Satire, to the 
ground; no 

The number may be hang'd, but not be 
crown'd. 

Enough for half the greatest of these days 

To 'scape my Censure, not expect my 
Praise. 

Are they not rich ? what more can they 
pretend ? 

Dare they to hope a poet for their 
friend ? — 

What Richelieu wanted, Louis scarce could 
gain. 

And what young Ammon wish'd, but 
wish'd in vain. 

No power the Muse's friendship can com- 
mand; 

No power, when Virtue claims it, can with- 
stand. 

To Cato, Virgil paid one honest line; 120 

let my country's friends illumine mine! 
— What are you thinking ? F. Faith, the 

thought 's no sin; 

1 think your friends are out, and would be 

in. 
P. If merely to come in, Sir, they go out, 
The .way they take is strangely round about. 
F. They too may be corrupted, you '11 

allow ? 
P. I only call those knaves who are so 
now. 
Is that too little ? come, then, I '11 comply — 
Spirit of Arnall, aid me while I lie! 129 

Cobham 's a coward! Pol worth is a slave! 
And Lyttelton a dark designing knave! 
St. John has ever been a wealthy fool! — 
But let me add, Sir Robert 's mighty dull. 
Has never made a friend in private life. 
And was, besides, a tyrant to his wife! 
But pray, when others praise him, do I 
blame ? 
Call Verres, Wolsey, any odious name ? 
Why rail they then if but a wreath of mine, 
O all-accomplish'd St. John! deck thy 
shrine ? 
What! shall each spur-gall'd hackney of 
the day, 140 

When Paxton gives him double pots and 

pay, 

Or each new-pension'd Sycophant, pretend 
To break my windows if I treat a friend ; 
Then, wisely plead, to me they meant no 

hurt, 
But 't was my guest at whom they threw 

the dirt ? 



Sure if I spare the Minister, no rules 
Of honour bind me not to maul his Tools; 
Sure if they cannot cut, it may be said 
His saws are toothless, and his hatchet 's 
lead. 
It anger'd Turenne, once upon a day, 150 
To see a footman kick'd that took his 

pay; 

But when he heard th' affront the fellow 

gave, 
Knew one a Man of Honour, one a Knave, 
The prudent Gen'ral turu'd it to a jest, 
And begg'd he 'd take the pains to kick the 

rest; 
Which not at present having time to do — 
F. Hold, Sir! for God's sake, where 's 

th' affront to you ? 
Against your worship when had S[herloc]k 

writ. 
Or P[a]ge pour'd forth the torrent of his 

wit? 
Or grant the bard whose distich all com- 
mend 160 
(* In power a servant, out of power a friend') 
To W[alpo]le guilty of some venial sin, \1 
What 's that to you who ne'er was out nor/ 

in? 
The Priest whose flattery bedropp'd the 

crown, 
How hurt he you ? he only stain'd the 

gown. 
And how did, pray, the florid youth offend, 
Whose speech you took, and gave it to a 

friend ? 
P. Faith, it imports not much from' 

whom it came; 
Whoever borrow'd could not be to blame, 
Since the whole House did afterwards 

the same. 170 j 

Let courtly Wits to Wits afford supply, 
As hog to hog in huts of Westphaly: 
If one, thro' Nature's bounty or his Lord's 
Has what the frugal dirty soil affords. 
From him the next receives it, thick or 

thin, 
As pure a mess almost as it came in; 
The blessed benefit, not there confin'd. 
Drops to the third, who nuzzles close be- 
hind; 
From tail to mouth they feed and they 

carouse ; 
The last full fairly gives it to the House. 180 

F. This filthy simile, this beastly line. 
Quite turns my stomach — P. So does 

flatt'ry mine; 



EPILOGUE 



213 



And all your courtly civet-cats can vent, 
Perfume to you, to me is excrement. 
But hear me further — Japhet, 't is agreed. 
Writ not, and Chartres scarce could write 

or read 
In all the courts of Pindus, guiltless quite; 
But pens can forge, my friend, that cannot 

write, 
And must no egg in Japhet's face be 

thrown, 
Because the deed he forged was not my 

own ? 190 

Must never Patriot then declaim at Gin 
Unless, good man! he has been fairly in ? 
No zealous Pastor blame a failing spouse 
Without a staring reason on his brows ? 
And each blasphemer quite escape the 

rod. 
Because the insult 's not on man but God ? 

Ask you what provocation I have had ? 
The strong antipathy of good to bad. 
When Truth or Virtue an affront endures, 
Th' affront is mine, my friend, and should 

be yours. 200 

Mine, as a foe profess'd to false pretence, 
Who think a coxcomb's honour like his 

sense; 
Mine, as a friend to ev'ry worthy mind; 
And mine as man, who feel for all man- 
kind. 
F. You 're strangely proud. "] 

P. So proud, I am no slave; I 
So impudent, I own myself no knave; [ 
So odd, my country's ruin makes me grave, _ 
Yes, I am proud ; I must be proud to see 
Men, not afraid of God, afraid of me; 
Safe from the Bar, the Pulpit, and the 

Throne, 210 

Yet touch'd and shamed by Ridicule alone. 
O sacred weapon! left for Truth's de- 
fence, 
Sole dread of Folly, Vice, and Insolence, 
To all but Heav'n-directed hands denied, 
The Muse may give thee, but the Gods 

must guide! 
Rev'rent I touch thee! but with honest 

zeal, 
To rouse the watchmen of the public 

weal. 
To Virtue's work provoke the tardy hall. 
And goad the Prelate, slumb'ring in his 

stall. 
Ye tinsel insects! whom a Court maintains. 
That counts your beauties only by your 

stains, 23 1 



Spin all your cobwebs o'er the eye of 

day! 
The Muse's wing shall brush you all away. 
All His Grace preaches, all His Lordship 

sings. 
All that makes Saints of Queens, and Gods 

of Kings; 
All, all but Truth, drops dead-born from 

the press, 
Like the last Gazette, or the last Address. 
When black Ambition stains a public 

cause, 
A Monarch's sword when mad Vainglory 

draws, 
Not Waller's wreath can hide the nation's 

scar, 230 

Nor Boileau turn the feather to a star. 

Not so when, diadem'd with rays divine, 
Touch'd with the flame that breaks from 

Virtue's shrine. 
Her priestess Muse forbids the good to 

die. 
And opes the Temple of Eternity. 
There other trophies deck the truly brave 
Than such as Anstis casts into the grave; 
Far other stars than [Kent] and [Grafton] 

wear. 
And may descend to Mordington from 

Stair; — 
Such as on Hough's unsullied mitre shine. 
Or beam, good Digby! from a heart like 

thine. 241 

Let envy howl, while heav'n's whole chorus 

sings, 
And bark at honour not conf err'd by Kings ; 
Let Flatt'ry sick'ning see the incense rise, 
Sweet to the world, and grateful to the 

skies: 
Truth guards the Poet, sanctifies the line^ 
And makes immortal, verse as mean as 

mine. 
Yes, the last pen for Freedom let me 

draw, 
When Truth stands trembling on the edge 

of law 
Here, last of Britons! let your names be 

read; 250 

Are none, none living ? let me praise the 

dead; 
And for that cause which made your fathers 

shine 
Fall by the votes of their degen'rate line. 

F. Alas! alas! pray end what you began, 
And write next winter more Essays on 

Man. 



214 



SATIRES 



THE SIXTH SATIRE OF THE 
SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 

THE FIRST PART IMITATED IN THE 
YEAR I714 BY DR. SWIFT; THE LAT- 
TER PART ADDED AFTERWARDS 

Of the following' Imitations of Horace the 
first two are rather imitations of Swift, Hor- 
ace merely supplying the text for the tra-festy. 
For (as previous editors have not failed to 
point out) no styles could be foimd less like 
one another than the bland and polite style of 
Horace and the downright, and often cynically 
plain, manner of Swift. With Pope the at- 
tempt to write in Swift's style was a mere tour 
de force, which he could indeed carry out with 
success through a few lines, but not further, 
without relapsing into his own more elaborate 
manner. Swift's marvellous precision and net- 
tete of expression are something very different 
from Pope's pointed and rhetorical elegance. 
The Ode to Ve7ius, which was first published in 
IToT, more nearly approaches the character of 
a translation. (Ward.) 

I 'VE often wish'd that I had clear 
For life six hundred pounds a year, 
A handsome house to lodge a friend, 
A river at my garden's end, 
A terrace walk, and half a rood 
Of land set out to plant a wood. 

Well, now I have all this, and more, 
I ask not to increase my store; 
But here a grievance seems to lie, 
All this is mine but till I die; 10 

I can't but think 't would sound more 

clever. 
To me and to my heirs for ever. 

If I ne'er got or lost a groat 
By any trick or any fault; 
And if I pray by Reason's rules, 
And not like forty other fools, 
As thus: * Vouchsafe, O gracious Maker! 
To grant me this and t' other acre; 
Or, if it be thy will and pleasure. 
Direct my plough to find a treasure; 20 
But only what my station fits. 
And to be kept in my right wits, 
Preserve, almighty Providence! 
Just what you gave me. Competence; 
And let me in these shades compose 
Something in verse as true as prose, 
Remov'd from all th' ambitious scene, 
Nor puff'd by Pride, nor sunk by Spleen.' 

In short, I 'm perfectly content, 
Let me but live on this side Trent, 30 



Nor cross the channel twice a year. 
To spend six months with statesmen 
here. 
I must by all means come to town, 
'T is for the service of the Crown; 

* Lewis, the Dean will be of use; 
Send for him up; take no excuse.' 

The toil, the danger of the seas, 
Great ministers ne'er think of these; 
Or, let it cost five hundred pound. 
No matter where the money 's found; 40 
It is but so much more in debt. 
And that they ne'er consider'd yet. 

' Good Mr. Dean, go change your gown, 
Let my Lord know you 're come to town.' 
I hurry me in haste away. 
Not thinking it is Levee day, 
And find His Honour in a pound, 
Hemm'd by a triple circle round, 
Chequer'd with ribbons blue and green: 
How should I thrust myself between ? 50 
Some wag observes me thus perplex'd, 
And smiling, whispers to the next, 

* I thought the Dean had been too proud 
To jostle here among a crowd.' 
Another, in a surly fit. 

Tells me I have more zeal than wit; 

* So eager to express your love. 
You ne'er consider whom you shove, 
But rudely press before a Duke.' 

I own I 'm pleas'd with this rebuke, 60 

And take it kindly meant, to show 
What I desire the world should know. 

I get a whisper, and withdraw; 
When twenty fools I never saw 
Come with petitions fairly penn'd. 
Desiring I would stand their friend. 

This humbly offers me his Case — 
That begs my int'rest for a Place — 
A hundred other men's affairs. 
Like bees, are humming in my ears; 70 
' To-morrow my appeal comes on. 
Without your help the cause is gone.' 
' The Duke expects my Lord and you 
About some great affair at two.' 
' Put my Lord Bolingbroke in mind 
To get my warrant quickly sign'd: 
Consider, 't is my first request.' — 

* Be satisfied, I '11 do my best: ' — 
Then presently he falls to tease, 

* You may be certain, if you please; 80 
I doubt not, if his Lordship knew — 
And, Mr. Dean, one word from you.' — 

'T is (let me see) three years and more 
(October next it will be four) 



SIXTH SATIRE OF THE SECOND BOOK OF HORACE 21; 



90 



Since Harley bid me first attend, 

And chose me for an humble friend: 

Would take me in his coach to chat, 

And question me of this and that; 

As, ' What 's o'clock ? ' and, ' How 's the 

wind ? ' 
' Whose chariot 's that we left behind ? 
Or gravely try to read the lines 
Writ underneath the country signs; 
Or, ' Have you nothing new to-day 
From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay ? ' 
Such tattle often entertains 
My Lord and me as far as Staines, 
As once a week we travel down 
To Windsor, and again to town. 
Where all that passes inter 7ios 
Might be proclaim'd at Charing-cross. 100 

Yet some I know with envy swell 
Because they see me used so well. 
' How think you of our friend the Dean ? 
I wonder what some people mean; 
My lord and he are grown so great, 
Always together tete-a-tete. 
What! they admire him for his jokes — 
See but the fortune of some folks! ' 
There flies about a strange report 
Of some express arrived at Court; no 

I 'm stopp'd by all the fools I meet. 
And catechised in every street. 

* You, Mr. Dean, frequent the Great: 
Inform us, will the Emp'ror treat ? 
Or do the prints and papers lie ? ' 

* Faith, Sir, you know as much as L' 
^ Ah, Doctor, how you love to jest! 
T is now no secret.' — * I protest 

'Tis one to rae.' — ' Then tell us, pray. 
When are the troops to have their pay ? ' 120 
And tho' I solemnly declare 
I know no more than my Lord Mayor, 
They stand amazed, and think me grown 
The closest mortal ever known. 

Thus in a sea of folly tost. 
My choicest hours of life are lost; 
Yet always wishing to retreat: 
O, could I see my country-seat! 
There leaning near a gentle brook. 
Sleep, or peruse some ancient book, 130 

And there, in sweet oblivion drown 
Those cares that haunt the Court and town. 
O charming Noons! and Nights divine! 
Or when I sup, or when I dine. 
My friends above, my folks below, 
Chatting and laughing all-a-row. 
The beans and bacon set before 'em, 
The grace-cup served with all decorum; 



Each willing to be pleas'd, and please, 

And ev'n the very dogs at easel 140 

Here no man prates of idle things, 

How this or that Italian sings, 

A Neighbour's madness, or his Spouse's, 

Or what 's in either of the Houses; 

But something much more our concern, 

And quite a scandal not to learn; 

Which is the happier or the wiser, 

A man of merit, or a miser ? 

Whether we ought to choose our friends 

For their own worth or our own ends ? 150 

What good, or better, we may call, 

And what the very best of all ? 

Our friend Dan Prior told (you know) 
A tale extremely a-propos : 
Name a town life, and in a trice 
He had a story of two mice. 
Once on a time (so runs the Fable) 
A Country Mouse right hospitable, 
Received a Town Mouse at his board, 
Just as a farmer might a Lord. 160 

A frugal mouse, upon the whole, 
Yet lov'd his friend, and had a soul; 
Knew what was handsome, and would do 't, 
On just occasion, coute qui coute. 
He brought him bacon (nothing lean). 
Pudding that might have pleas'd a Dean; 
Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make, 
But wish'd it Stilton for his sake; 
Yet, to his guest tho' no way sparing. 
He ate himself the rind and paring. 170 

Our Courtier scarce could touch a bit, 
But show'd his breeding and his wit; 
He did his best to seem to eat, 
And cried, 'I vow you 're mighty neat: 
But lord, my friend, this savage scene! 
For God's sake come and live with men; 
Consider, mice, like men, must die, 
Both small and great, both you and I; 
Then spend your life in joy and sport, 
(This doctrine, friend, I learn'd at court).' 

The veriest hermit in the nation 181 

May yield, God knows, to strong tempta- 
tion. 
Away they came, thro' thick and thin, 
To a tall house near Lincoln's-Inn 
('T was on the night of a debate, 
When all their Lordships had sat late). 

Behold the place where if a poet 
Shined in description he might show it; 
Tell how the moonbeam trembling falls, 
And tips with silver all the walls; 190 

Palladian walls, Venetian doors, 
Grotesco roofs, and stucco floors: 



2l6 



SATIRES 



But let it (in a word) be said, "j 
The moon was up, and men a-bed, >- 
The napkins white, the carpet red: J 
The guests withdrawn had left the treat, 
And down the Mice sat tete-a-tete. 

Our Courtier walks from dish to dish, 
Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish; 
Tells all their names, lays down the law, 200 

* Que pa est bon ! Ah, goutez pa / 

That Jelly 's rich, this Malmsey healing. 
Pray, dip your whiskers and your tail in.' 
Was ever such a happy swain! 
He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again. 

* I 'm quite ashamed — 't is mighty rude 
To eat so much — but all 's so good — 

I have a thousand thanks to give — 

My Lord alone knows how to live.' 

No sooner said, but from the hall 210 

Rush chaplain, butler, dogs, and all: 

* A rat, a rat! clap to the door ' — 
The cat comes bouncing on the floor. 

for the art of Homer's mice, 
Or gods to save them in a trice! 
(It was by Providence, they think. 
For your damn'd stucco has no chink!) 

* An 't please Your Honour,' quoth the 

peasant, 
'This same dessert is not so pleasant: 
Give me again my hollow tree, 220 

A crust of bread and Liberty! ' 

THE SEVENTH EPISTLE OF 
THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE 

IN THE MANNER OF DR. SWIFT 

'T IS true, my Lord, I gave my word 

1 would be with you June the third; 
Changed it to August, and (in short) 
Have kept it — as you do at Court. 
Tou humour me when I am sick, 
Why not when I am splenetic ? 

In Town what objects could I meet ? 

The shops shut up in every street. 

And funerals black'ning all the doors. 

And yet more melancholy whores: 10 

And what a dust in every place! 

And a thin Court that wants your face, 

And fevers raging up and down. 

And W[ard] and H[enley] both in town! 

* The dogdays are no more the case.' 
'T is true, but winter comes apace: 
Then southward let your bard retire, 
Hold out some months 'twixt sun and fire, 



And you shall see the first warm weather 
Me and the butterflies together. 20 

My Lord, your favours well I know; 
'T is with distinction you bestow. 
And not to every one that comes. 
Just as a Scotchman does his plums. 
' Pray take them, Sir — enough 's a feast: 
Eat some, and pocket up the rest: ' 
What, rob your boys ? those pretty rogues! 
' No, Sir, you '11 leave them to the hogs.' 
Thus fools with compliments besiege ye. 
Contriving never to oblige ye. 30 

Scatter your favours on a Fop, 
Ingratitude 's the certain crop; 
And 't is but just, I '11 tell ye wherefore, 
You give the things you never care for. 
A wise man always is, or should. 
Be mighty ready to be good. 
But makes a diff'rence in his thought 
Betwixt a guinea and a groat. 

Now this I '11 say, you '11 find in me 
A safe companion, and a free; 40 

But if you 'd have me always near, 
A word, pray, in Your Honour's ear: 
I hope it is your resolution 
To give me back my constitution, 
The sprightly wit, the lively eye, 
Th' engaging smile, the gayety 
That laugh'd down many a summer sun, 
And kept you up so oft till one; 
And all that voluntary vein. 
As when Belinda rais'd my strain. 50 

A Weasel once made shift to slink 
In at a corn-loft thro' a chink. 
But having amply stuff'd his skin, 
Could not get out as he got in; 
Which one belonging to the house 
('T was not a man, it was a mouse) 
Observing, cried, 'You 'scape not so; 
Lean as you came. Sir, you must go.' 
Sir, you may spare your application; 
I 'm no such beast, nor his relation, 60 

Nor one that Temperance advance, 
Cramm'd to the throat with ortolans; 
Extremely ready to resign 
All that may make me none of mine. 
South-Sea subscriptions take who please. 
Leave me but liberty and ease: 
'T was what I said to Craggs and Child, 
Who praised my modesty, and smil'd. 
' Give me,' I cried (enough for me) 
' My bread and independency! ' 70 

So bought an annual rent or two, 
And lived — just as you see I do; 



NINTH ODE OF THE FOURTH BOOK OF HORACE 217 



Near fifty, aud without a wife, 

I trust that sinking fund, my life. 

Can I retrench ? xes, mighty well, 

Shrink back to my paternal cell, 

A little house, with trees a row, 

And, like its master, very low; 

There died my father, no man's debtor. 

And there I '11 die, nor worse nor better. 80 

To set this matter full before ye, 
Our old friend Swift will tell his story. 

' Harley, the nation's great support ' — 
But you may read it, I stop short. 



THE FIRST ODE OF THE 
FOURTH BOOK OF HORACE 

TO VENUS 

Again ? new tumults in my breast ? 

Ah, spare me, Venus ! let me, let me rest ! 

I am not now, alas ! the man 

As in the gentle reign of my Queen Anne. 

Ah ! sound no more thy soft alarms. 

Nor circle sober fifty with thy charms. 

Mother too fierce of dear desires ! 

Turn, turn to willing hearts your wanton 

fires : 
To number Jive direct your doves, 
There spread round Murray all your bloom- 
ing Loves ; 10 
Noble aud young, who strikes the heart 
With ev'ry sprightly, ev'ry decent part; 
Equal the injured to defend. 
To charm the Mistress, or to fix the Friend. 
He, with a hundred arts refin'd, 
Shall stretch thy conquests over half the 

kind: 
To him each rival shall submit. 
Make but his Riches equal to his Wit. 
Then shall thy form the marble grace, 
(Thy Grecian form) and Chloe lend the 
face : 20 

His house, embosom'd in the grove. 
Sacred to social life and social love. 
Shall glitter o'er the pendant green. 
Where Thames reflects the visionary scene: 
Thither, the silver-sounding lyres 
Shall call the smiling Loves, and young De- 
sires; 
There, ev'ry Grace and Muse shall throng, 



Exalt the dance, or animate the song; 
There Youths and Nymphs, in concert gay. 
Shall hail the rising, close the parting day. 
With me, alas ! those joys are o'er; 31 

For me, the vernal garlands bloom no more. 
Adieu, fond hope of mutual fire, 
The still-believing, still-renew'd desire; 
Adieu, the heart-expanding bowl. 
And all the kind deceivers of the soul ! 
But why ? ah tell me, ah too dear ! 
Steals down my cheek th' involuntary 

Tear? 
Why words so flowing, thoughts so free. 
Stop, or turn nonsense, at one glance of 

thee ? 40 

Thee, drest in Fancy's airy beam. 
Absent I follow thro' th' extended Dream; 
Now, now I seize, I clasp thy charms. 
And now you burst (ah cruel ! ) from my 

arms ; 
And swiftly shoot along the Mall, 
Or softly glide by the Canal, 
Now, shown by Cynthia's silver ray. 
And now, on rolling waters snatch'd away. 



THE NINTH ODE OF THE 
FOURTH BOOK OF HORACE 

A FRAGMENT 

Lest you should think that verse shall die 
Which sounds the silver Thames along, 

Taught on the wings of truth to fly 
Above the reach of vulgar song; 

Tho' daring Milton sits sublime, 
In Spenser native muses play; 

Nor yet shall Waller yield to time. 
Nor pensive Cowley's moral lay — 

Sages and Chiefs long since had birth 
Ere Caesar was or Newton named; 

These rais'd new empires o'er the earth, 
And those new heav'ns and systems 
framed. 

Vain was the Chief's, the Sage's Pride ! 

They had no Poet, and they died. 
In vain they schemed, in vain they bled ! 

They had no Poet, and are dead. 



2l8 



THE DUNCIAD 



THE DUNCIAD 



IN FOUR BOOKS 



The first edition of "J^he Dunciad was pub- 
lished in the spring- of 1728, and inchided the 
first three books. In 1729 an edition with notes 
and other illustrative matter appeared, the ori- 
ginal frontispiece of the owl being superseded 
by a vignette of a donkey bearing a pile of books 
upon which an owl perched. In this edition ap- 
peared the Dedication to Swift and the Letter to 
the Publisher. William Cleland, whose name is 
signed to this letter, was a real person and an 
acquaintance of Pope's, but it is generally con- 



ceded that the letter is directly or indirectly 
the work of Pope himself. The fourth book, 
then called The New Dunciad, was published 
separately in 1742. In the complete edition of 
1743, Gibber takes the place of Theobald as 
hero of the poem. During these fifteen years, 
public interest in the satire, which was un- 
doubtedly great, was artificially stimulated by 
Pope. So subtle were his mystifications that 
the confusion into which he threw his commen- 
tators has only recently been set straight. 



MARTINUS SCRIBLERUS OF THE 
POEM 

This poem, as it celebrateth the most grave 
and ancient of things. Chaos, Night, and Dul- 
ness, so is it of the most grave and ancient 
kind. Homer (saith Aristotle) was the first 
who gave the form, and (saith Horace) who 
adapted the measure, to heroic poesy. But 
even before this may be rationally presumed, 
from what the ancients have left written, was 
a piece by Homer, composed of like nature 
and matter with this of our poet ; for of epic 
sort it appeareth to have been, yet of matter 
surely not unpleasant ; witness what is reported 
of it by the learned Archbishop Eustathius, in 
Odyssey X. And accordingly Aristotle, in his 
Poetic, chap, iv., doth further set forth, that as 
the Iliad and Odyssey gave an example to Trag- 
edy, so did this poem to Comedy its first idea. 

From these authors also it should seem that 
the hero, or chief personage of it. was no less 
obscure, and his understanding and sentiments 
no less quaint and strange (if indeed not more 
so) than any of the actors of our poem. Mar- 
gites was the name of this personage, whom 
antiquity reeordeth to have been Dunce the 
First ; and surely, from what we hear of him, 
not unworthy to be the root of so spreading a 
tree, and so numerous a posterity. The poem, 
therefore, celebrating him, was properly and 
absolutely a Dunciad ; which though now un- 
happily lost, yet is its nature sufficiently known 
by the infallible tokens aforesaid. And thus\ 
it doth appear that the first Dunciad was the / 
first epic poem, written by Homer himself, and^ 
anterior even to the Iliad or Odyssey. 

Now, forasmuch as our poet hath translated 
those two famous works of Homer which are 
yet left, he did conceive it in some sort his 
duty to imitate that also which was lost ; and 



was therefore induced to bestow on it the same 
form which Homer's is reported to have had, 
namely, that of epic poem ; with a title also 
framed after the ancient Greek manner, to wit, 
that of Dunciad. 

Wonderful it is that so few of the moderns 
have been stimulated to attempt some Dun- 
ciad ; since, in the opinion of the multitude, it 
might cost less pain and toil than an imitation 
of the greater epic. But possible it is also 
that, on due reflection, the maker might find 
it easier to paint a Charlemagne, a Brute, or a 
Godfrey, with just pomp and dignity heroic, 
than a Margites, a Codrus, or a Fleckno. 

We shall next declare the occasion and the 
cause which moved our poet to this particular 
work. He lived in those days when (after 
Providence had permitted the invention of 
printing as a scourge for the sins of the learned) 
paper also became so cheap, and printers so 
numerous, that a deluge of authors covered 
the land : whereby not only the peace of the 
honest unwriting subject was daily molested, 
but unmerciful demands were made of his ap- 
plause, yea, of his money, by such as would 
neither earn the one nor deserve the other. 
At the same time the license of the press was 
such, that it grew dangerous to refuse them 
either ; for they would forthwith publish slan- 
ders unpunished, the authors being anonymous, 
and skulking under the wings of publishers, a 
set of men who never scrupled to vend either 
calumny or blasphemy, as long as the town 
would call for it. 

y^Now our author, living in those times, ^ 
did conceive it an endeavour well worthy an \ 
honest satirist, to dissuade the dull, and pun- '^ 
ish the wicked, the only waj' that was left. 
In that public-spirited view he laid the Plan 
of this poem, as the greatest service he was 
^ Vide Bossu, du Poeme Epique, chap. viii. 






\,\±^r^^^~*yU\ \,(i , '^^ u •• a.; 



/•A/ > 



THE DUNCIAD 



219 



capable (without rniich hurt, or being" slain) to 
render his dear country. First, taking- things 
from their orig-inal, he considereth the causes 
creative of such authors, namely, dulness and 
poverty ; the one born with them, the other 
contracted by neglect of their proper talents, 
throug-h self-conceit of greater abilities. This 
truth he wrappeth in an allegory/ (as the con • 
struction of epic poesy requireth), and feigns 
that one of these goddesses had taken up her 
abode with the other, and that they jointly 
inspired all such writers and such works.'' He 
proceedeth to show the qualities they bestow 
on these authors, and the effects they produce ; ' 
then the materials, or stock, with which they 
furnish them ; ■* and (above all) that self -opin- 
ion '^ which causeth it to seem to themselves 
vastly greater than it is. and is the prime mo- 
tive of their setting up in this sad and sorry 
merchandise. The great power of these god- 
desses acting in alliance (whereof as the one 
is the mother of industry, so is the other of 
plodding) was to be exemplified in some one 
great and remarkable action ; ^ and none could 
be more so than that which our poet hath 
chosen, viz. the ^restoration of the reign of 
Chaos and Night, by the ministry of Dulness 
their daughter, in the removal of her imperial 
seat from the city to the polite world ; as the 
action of the --SJneid is the restoration of the 
empire of Troy, by the removal of the race 
from thence to Latium. But as Homer, sing- 
ing only the wrath of Achilles, yet includes in 
his poem the whole history of the Trojan war ; 
in like manner, our author has drawn into this 
single action tlie whole history of Dulness and 
her children. 

A Person must next be fixed upon to sup- 
port this action. This phantom, in the poet's 
}uind, must have a name.^ He finds it to be 

; and he becomes of course the hero of 

the poem. 
^^-"^he Fable being thus, according to the best 
I example, one and entire, as contained in the 
proposition ; the machinery is a continued 
chain of allegories, setting forth the whole 
power, ministry, and empire of Dulness, ex- 
tended through her subordinate instruments, in 

all her various operations. 

This is branched into Episodes, each of which 
hath its moral apart, though all conducive to 
the main end. The crowd assembled in the 
second Book demonstrates the design to be 
more extensive than to bad poets only, and 
that we may expect other episodes of the pa- 
trons, encouragers, or paymasters of such au- 
thors, as occasion shall bring thena forth. 

1 Bossu, chap. vii. 

2 Book i. ver. 32, *c. 

3 Book i. ver. 45 tc 54. 
* Ver. 57 to 77. 



And the third Book, if well considered, seem- 
eth to embrace the whole world. Each of the 
games relateth to some or other vile class of 
writers. The first concerneth the plagiary, to 
whom he giveth the name of Moore ; the sec- 
ond the libellous novelist, whom he styleth 
Eliza ; the third, the flattering dedicator ; the 
fourth, the bawling critic, or noisy poet ; the 
fifth the dark and dirty party-writer ; and so 
of the rest ; assigning to each some proper 
name or other, such as he could find. 

As for the Characters, the public hath al- 
ready acknowledged how justly they are 
drawn. The manners are so depicted, and the 
sentiments so peculiar to those to whom ap- 
plied, that surely to transfer them to any other 
or wiser personages would be exceeding diffi- 
cult ; and certain it is that every person con 
cerned, being consulted apart, hath readily 
owned the resemblance of every portrait, his 
own excepted. So Mr. Cibber calls them ' a 
parcel of poor wretches, so many silly flies ; ' 
but adds, ' our author's wit is remarkably 
more bare and barren whenever it would fall 
foul on Cibber than upon any other person 
whatever.' 

The Descriptions are singular, the compari- 
sons very quaint, the narrations various, yet of 
one colour, the purity and chastity of diction 
is so preserved, that in the places most suspi- 
cious, not the words, but only the images, have 
been censured ; and yet are those images no 
other than have been sanctified by ancient and 
classical authority (though, as was the manner 
of those good times, not so curiously wrapped 
up), yea, and commented upon by the most 
grave doctors and approved critics. 

As it beareth the name of Epic, it is thereby ,K 
subjected to such severe indispensable rules as 
are laid on all neoterics, a strict imitation of 
the ancients ; insomuch that any deviation, ac- 
companied with whatever poetic beauties, hath 
always been censured by the sound critic. 
How exact that imitation hath been in this 
piece, appeareth not only by its general struc- 
ture, but by particular allusions infinite, many 
whereof have escaped both the commentator 
and poet himself ; yea divers, by his exceeding 
diligence, are so altered and interwoven with 
the rest, that several have already been, and 
more will be, by the ignorant abused, as alto- 
gether and originally his own. 

In a word, the whole Poem proveth itself to 
be the work of our author, when his faculties 
were in full vigour and perfection ; at that ex- 
act time when years have ripened the judg- 
ment without diminishing the imagination; 

8 Ver. 80. 

8 Bossu, chap, vii., viii. 

^ B068U, chap. viii. Vide Aristot. Poetic, cap. ii. 



220 



THE DUNCIAD 



■which, by good critics, is held to be punctually 
at forty : for at that season it was that Virg-il 
finished his Georgics ; and Sir Richard Black- 
more, at the like age composing- his Arthurs, 
declared the same to be the very acme and 
pitch of life for epic poesy ; though, since, he 
hath altered it to sixty, the year in which he 
published his Alfred. True it is that the tal- 
ents for criticism, namely, smartness, quick 
censure, vivacity of remark, certainty of as- 
severation, indeed all but acerbity, seem rather 
the gifts of youth than of riper age : but it is 
far otherwise in poetry ; witness the works of 
Mr. Rymer and Mr, Dennis, who, beginning 
with criticism, became afterwards such poets 
as no age hf\th paralleled. With good reason, 
therefore, did our author choose to write his 
Essay on that subject at twenty, and reserve 
for his maturer years this great and wonderful 
work of The Dunciad. 



PREFACE 

PREFIXED TO THE FIVE FIRST IMPER- 
FECT EDITIONS OF THE DUNCIAD, IN 
THREE BOOKS, PRINTED AT DUBLIN 
AND LONDON, IN OCTAVO AND DUO- 
DECIMO, 1727. 

THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER 

It will be found a true observation, though 
somewhat surprising, that when any scandal is 
vented against a man of the highest distinction 
and character, either in the state or literature, 
the public in general afford it a most quiet 
reception, and the larger part accept it as fa- 
vourably as if it were some kindness done to 
themselves : whereas, if a known scoundrel or 
blockhead but chance to be touched upon, a 
whole legion is up in arms, and it becomes the 
common cause of all scribblers, booksellers, 
and printers whatsoever. 

Not to search too deeply into the reason 
hereof, I will only observe as a fact, that every 
week, for these two months past, the town has 
been persecuted with pamphlets, advertise- 
ments, letters, and weekly essays, not only 
against the wit and writings, but against the 
character and person of Mr. Pope ; and that of 
all those men who have received pleasure from 
his works (which by modest computation may 
be about a hundred thousand in these king- 
doms of England and Ireland, not to mention 
Jersey, Guernsey, the Orcades, those in the 
New World, and foreigners who have trans- 
lated him into their languages), of all this num- 
ber not a man bath stood up to say one word 
In his defence, 



The only exception is the author of the fol- 
lowing poem, who doubtless had either a better 
insight into the grounds of this clamour, or a 
better opinion of Mr. Pope's integrity, joined 
with a greater personal love for him than any 
other of his numerous friends and admirers. 

Farther, that he was in his peculiar intimacy, 
appears from the knowledge he manifests of 
the most private authors of all the anonymous 
pieces against him, and from his having in this 
poem attacked no man living who had not be- 
fore printed or published some scandal against 
this gentleman. 

How I came possessed of it, is no concern to 
the reader ; but it would have been a wrong to 
him had I detained the publication ; since those 
names which are its chief ornaments die o£F 
daily so fast, as must render it too soon unin- 
telligible. If it provoke the author to give us 
a more perfect edition, I have my end. 

Who he is I cannot say, and (which is a great 
pity) there is certainly nothing in his style and 
manner of writing which can distinguish or 
discover him ; for if it bears any resemblance 
to that of Mr. Pope, it is not improbable but 
it might be done on purpose, with a view to 
have it pass for his. But by the frequency of 
his allusions to Virgil, and a laboured (not to 
say affected) shortness in imitation of him, I 
should think him more an admirer of the Ro- 
man poet than of the Grecian, and in that not 
of the same taste with his friend. 

I have been well informed that this work 
was the labour of full six years of his life, and 
that he wholly retired himself from all the 
avocations and pleasures of the world to attend 
diligently to its correction and perfection ; and 
six years more he intended to bestow upon it, 
as it should seem by this verse of Statius, which 
was cited at the head of his manuscript : — 

' Oh mihi bissenos multum vigilata per aniios, 
Duncia ! ' 

Hence also we learn the true title of the 
poem ; which, with the same certainty as we 
call that of Homer the Iliad, of Virgil the 
^neid, of Camoens the Lusiad, we may pro- 
nounce could have been, and can be, no other 
than 

THE DUNCIAD 

It is styled heroic, as being doubly so ; not 
only with respect to^ its nature, which, accord- 
ing to the best rules of the ancients, and strict- 
est ideas of the moderns, is critically such ; 
but also with regard to the heroical disposition 
and high courage of the writer, who dared to 
stir up such a formidable, irritable, and impla- 
cable race of mortals. 

There may arise some obscurity in chrono- 
logy from the names in the poem, by the 



THE DUNCIAD 



221 



inevitable removal of some authors, and inser- 
tion of others in their niches : for, whoever will 
consider the unity of the whole design, will be 
sensible that the poem was not made for these 
authors, but these authors for the poem. I 
should judge that they were clapped in as they 
rose, fresh and fresh, and changed from day to 
day ; in like manner as when the old boughs 
wither we thrust new ones into a chimney. 

I would not have the reader too much trou- 
bled or anxious, if he cannot decipher them ; 
since, when he shall have found them out, he 
will probably know no more of the persons 
than before. 

Yet we judged it better to preserve them as 
they are, than to change them for fictitious 
names ; by which the satire would only be 
multiplied, and applied to many instead of one. 
Had the hero, for instance, been called Codrus, 
how manv would have affirmed him to have 
been Mr."^T., Mr. E., Sir R. B. ? &c., but now 
all that unjust scandal is saved, by calling him 
by a name which, by good luck, happens to be 
that of a real person. 



A LETTER TO THE PUBLISHER 

OCCASIONED BY THE FIRST CORRECT 
EDITION OF THE DUNCIAD 

It is with pleasure I hear that you have pro- 
cured a correct copy of the Dunciad, which 
the many surreptitious ones have rendered so 
necessary ; and it is yet with more, that I am 
informed it will be attended with a Commen- 
tary ; a work so requisite, that I cannot think 
the author himself would have omitted it, had 
he approved of the first appearance of this 
poem. 

Such Notes as have occurred to me I here- 
with send you : you will oblige me by inserting 
them amongst those which are, or will be, 
transmitted to you by others ; since not only 
the author's friends, but even strangers, appear 
engaged by humanity, to take some care of an 
orphan of so much genius and spirit, which its 
parent seems to have abandoned from the very 
beginning, and suffered to step into the world 
naked, unguarded, and unattended. 

It was upon reading some of the abusive 
papers lately published, that my great regard 
to a person whose friendship I esteem as one 
of the chief honours of my life, and a much 
greater respect to truth than to him or any 
man living, engaged me in inquiries of which 
the enclosed Notes are the fruit. 

I perceived that most of these authors had 
been (doubtless very wisely) the first aggres- 
sors. They had tried, till they were weary, 



what was to be got by railing at each other : 
nobody was either concerned or surprised if 
this or that scribbler was proved a dunce, but 
every one was curious to read what could be said 
to prove Mr. Pope one, and was ready to pay 
something for such a discovery ; a stratagem 
which, would they fairly own it, might not 
only reconcile them to me, but screen them 
from the resentment of their lawful superiors, 
whom they daily abuse, only (as I charitably 
hope) to get that by them, which they cannot 
get from them. 

I found this was not all : ill success in that 
had transported them to personal abuse, either 
of himself, or ( what I think he could less for- 
give) of his friends. They had called men of 
virtue and honour bad men, long before he had 
either leisure or inclination to call them bad 
writers ; and some of them had been such old 
offenders, that he had quite forgotten their 
persons, as well as their slanders, till they were 
pleased to revive them. 

Now what had Mr. Pope done before to in- 
cense them ? He had published those works 
which are in the hands of every body, in which 
not the least mention is made of any of them. 
And what has he done since ? He has laughed, 
and written the Dunciad. What has that 
said of them ? A very serious truth, which 
the public had said before, that they were 
dull ; and what it had no sooner said, but they 
themselves were at great pains to procure, or 
even purchase, room in the prints to testify 
under their hands to the truth of it. 

I should still have been silent, if either I 
had seen any inclination in my friend to be 
serious with such accusers, or if they had only 
meddled with his writings ; since whoever pub- 
lishes, puts himself on his trial by his coun- 
try : but when his moral character was at- 
tacked, and in a manner from which neither 
truth nor virtue can secure the most innocent ; 
in a manner which, though it annihilates the 
credit of the accusation with the just and im- 
partial, yet aggravates very much the guilt 
of the accusers — I mean by authors without 
names — then I thought, since the danger was 
common to all, the concern ought to be so ; 
and that it was an act of justice to detect the 
authors, not only on this account, but as many 
of them are the same who, for several years 
past, have made free with the greatest names 
in church and state, exposed to the world the 
private misfortunes of families, abused all, 
even to women ; and whose prostituted papers 
(for one or other party in the unhappy divi- 
sions of their country) have insulted the fallen, 
the friendless, the exiled, and the dead. 

Besides this, which I take to be public con- 
cern, I have already confessed I had a private 



222 



THE DUNCIAD 



one. I am one of that number who have long- 
loved and esteemed Mr. Pope ; and had often 
declared it was not his capacity or writings 
(which we ever thought the least valuable part 
of his character), but the honest, open, and 
beneficent man, that we most esteemed and 
loved in him. Now, if what these people say 
were believed, I must appear to all my friends 
either a fool or a knave ; either imposed on 
myself, or imposing on them ; so that I am as 
much interested in the confutation of these 
calumnies as he is himself. 

I am no author, and consequently not to be 
suspected either of jealousy or resentment 
against any of the men, of whom scarce one is 
known to me by sight ; and as for their writ- 
ings, I have sought them (on this one occasion) 
in vain, in the closets and libraries of all my 
acquaintance. I had still been in the dark, if 
a gentleman had not procured me (I suppose 
from some of themselves, for they are g-ener- 
ally much more dangerous friends than ene- 
mies) the passages I send you. I solemnly 
protest I have added nothing- to the malice or 
absurdity of them ; which it behoves me to 
declare, since the vouchers themselves will be 
so soon and so irrecoverably lost. You may, 
in some measure, prevent it, by preserving- at 
least their titles, and discovering (as far as you 
can depend on the truth of your information) 
the names of the concealed authors. 

The first objection I have heard made to the 
poem is, that the persons are too obscure for 
satire. The persons themselves, rather than 
allow the objection, would forgive the satire ; 
and if one could be tempted to afford it a seri- 
ous answer, were not all assassinates, popular 
insurrections, the insolence of the rabble with- 
out doors, and of domestics within, most wrong- 
fully chastised, if the meanness of offenders 
indemnified them from punishment ? On the 
contrary, obscurity renders them more danger- 
ous, as less thought of : law can pronounce 
judgment only on open facts ; morality alone 
can pass censure on intentions of mischief ; so 
that for secret calumny, or the arrow flying in 
the dark, there is no public punishment left 
but what a good writer inflicts. 

The next objection is, that these sort of au- 
thors are poor. That might be pleaded as an 
excuse at the Old Bailey for lesser crimes than 
defamation (for it is the case of almost all who 
are tried there), but sure it can be none here : 
for who wdll pretend that the robbing another 
of his reputation supplies the want of it in 
himself ? I question not but such authors are 
poor, and heartily wish the objection were re- 
moved by any honest livelihood ; but poverty 
is here the accident, not the subject. He who 
describes malice and villany to be pale and 



meagre, expresses not the least anger against 
paleness or leanness, but against malice and 
villany. The apothecary in Romeo and Juliet 
is poor ; but is he therefore justified in vending 
poison ? Not but poverty itself becomes a just 
subject of satire, when it is the consequence of 
vice, prodigality, or neglect of one's lawful 
calling ; for then it increases the public burden, 
fills the streets and highways with robbers, and 
the garrets with clippers, coiners, and weekly 
journalists. 

But admitting that two or three of these 
offend less in their morals than in their writ- 
ings ; must poverty make nonsense sacred ? If 
so, the fame of bad authors would be much 
better consulted than that of all the good ones 
in the world ; and not one of a hundred had 
ever been called by his right name. 

They mistake the whole matter : it is not 
charity to encourage them in the way they fol- 
low, but to get them out of it ; for men are not 
bunglers because they are poor, but they are 
poor because they are bunglers. 

Is it not pleasant enough to hear our authors 
crying out on the one hand, as if their persons 
and characters were too sacred for satire ; and 
the public objecting, on the other, that they are 
too mean even for ridicule ? But whether 
bread or fame be their end, it must be allowed, 
our author, by and in this poem, has mercifully 
given them a little of both. 

There are two or three who. by their rank 
and fortune, have no benefit from the former 
objections, supposing them good, and these I 
was sorry to see in such company : but if, with- 
out any provocation, two or three gentlemen 
will fall upon one, in an affair wherein his in- 
terest and reputation are equally embarked, 
they cannot, certainly, after they have been 
content to print themselves his enemies, com- 
plain of being put into the number of them. 

Others, I am told, pretend to have been once 
his friends. Surely they are their enemies who 
say so. since nothing can be more odious than 
to treat a friend as they have done. But of 
this I cannot persuade myself, when I consider 
the constant and eternal aversion of all bad 
writers to a good one. 

Such as claim a merit from being his admir- 
ers, I would gladly ask, if it lays him under a 
personal obligation. At that rate, he would be 
the most obliged humble servant in the world. 
I dare swear for these in particular, he never 
desired them to be his admirers, nor promised 
in return to be theirs : that had truly been a 
sign he was of their acquaintance ; but would 
not the malicious world have suspected such 
an approbation of some motive worse than 
ignorance, in the author of the Essay on Crit- 
icism ? Be it as it will, the reasons of their 



THE DUNCIAD 



223 



admiration and of his contempt are equally sub- 
sisting-, for his works and theirs are the very 
same that they were. 

One, therefore, of their assertions I believe 
may be true, ' that he has a contempt for their 
writings : ' and there is another which would 
probably be sooner allowed by himself than 
by any good judge beside, ' that his own have 
found too much success with the public' But 
as it cannot consist with his modesty to claim 
this as a justice, it lies not on him, but en- 
tirely on the public, to defend its own judg- 
ment. 

There remains, what, in my opinion, might 
seem a better plea for these people than any 
they have made use of : — If obscurity or pov- 
erty were to exempt a man from satire, much 
more should folly or dulness, which are still 
more involuntary ; nay, as much so as personal 
deformity. But even this will not help them : 
deformity becomes an object of ridicule when 
a man sets up for being handsome ; and so 
must dulness, when he sets up for a wit. They 
are not ridiculed because ridicule in itself is, or 
ought to be, a pleasure ; but because it is just 
to undeceive and vindicate the honest and un- 
pretending part of mankind from imposition ; 
because particular interest ought to yield to 
general, and a great number, who are not nat- 
urally fools, ought never to be made so, in 
complaisance to those who are. Accordingly 
we find that in all ages all vain pretenders, 
were they ever so poor, or ever so dull, have 
been constantly the topics of the most candid 
satirists, from the Codrus of Juvenal to the 
Damon of Boileau. 

Having mentioned Boileau, the greatest poet 
and most judicious critic of his age and country, 
admirable for his talents, and yet perhaps more 
admirable for his judgment in the proper ap- 
plication of them, I cannot help remarking the 
resemblance betwixt him and our author, in 
qualities, fame, and fortune ; in the distinctions 
shown them by their superiors, in the general 
esteem of their equals, and in their extended 
reputation amongst foreigners ; in the latter of 
which ours has met with the better fate, as he 
has had for his translators persons of the most 
eminent rank and abilities in their respective 
nations.^ But the resemblance holds in no- 
thing more than in their being equally abused 

^ Essay on Criticism, in French verse, by General 
Hamilton ; the same, in verse also, by Monsieur Robo- 
toii, counsellor and privy secretary to King George I., 
after by the Abb6 Resnel, in verse, with notes. Rape 
of the Lock, in French, by the Princess of Conti, Paris, 
1728 ; and in Italian verse by the Abb6 Conti, a noble 
Venetian; and by the Marquis Rangoni, envoy extraor- 
dinary from Modena to King George II. Others of 
his works by Salvini of Florence, Szc. His Essays and 
Dissertations on Homer, several times translated into 
French. Essay on Man, by the Abb6 Resnel, in verse, 



by the ignorant pretenders to poetry of their 
times ; of which not the least memory will re- 
main but in their own writings, and in the notes 
made upon them. What Boileau has done in 
almost all his poems, our author has only in 
this. I dare answer for him he will do it in 
no more ; and on this principle, of attacking 
few but who had slandered him, he could not 
have done it at all, had he been confined from 
censuring obscure and worthless persons : for 
scarce any other were his enemies. However, 
as the parity is so remarkable, I hope it will 
continue to the last ; and if ever he should give 
us an edition of this poem himself, I may see 
some of them treated as gently, on their re- 
pentance or better merit, as Perrault and Qui- 
nault were at last by Boileau. 

In one point I must be allowed to think the 
character of our English poet the more ami- 
able ; he has not been a follower of fortune or 
success ; he has lived with the great without 
flattery ; been a friend to men in power with- 
out pensions, from whom, as he asked, so he 
received, no favour, but what was done him in 
his friends. As his satires were the more just 
for being delayed, so were his panegyrics ; be- 
stowed only on such persons as he had famil- 
iarly known, only for such virtues as he had 
long observed in them, and only at such times 
as others cease to praise, if not begin to ca- 
lumniate them — I mean when out of power, 
or out of fashion.^ A satire, therefore, on 
writers so notorious for the contrary practice, 
became no man so well as himself ; as none, it 
is plain, was so little in their friendships, or so 
much in that of those whom they had most 
abused ; namely, the greatest and best of all 
parties. Let me add a further reason, that 
though engaged in their friendships, he never 
espoused their animosities ; and can almost 
singly challenge this honour, not to have writ- 
ten a line of any man which, through guilt, 
through shame, or through fear, through vari- 
ety of fortune, or change of interests, he was 
ever unwilling to own. 

1 shall conclude with remarking, what a 
pleasure it must be to every reader of human- 
ity to see all along that our author, in his very 
laughter, is not indulging his own ill nature, 
but only punishing that of others. As to his 
poem, those alone are capable of doing it jus- 

by Monsieur Silhouette, in prose, 1737 ; and since by 
others in French, Italian, and Latin. 

2 As Mr. Wycherley, at the time the town declaimed 
against his book of poems ; Mr. Walsh, after his death ; 
Sir William Trumbull, when he had resigned the office 
of Secretary of State ; Lord Bolingbroke, at his leaving 
Engl.ind, after the Queens death ; Lord Oxford, in his 
last decline of life ; Mr. Secretary Crasrgs, at tlie end 
of the South-Sea year, and alter his death ; others only 
in Epitaphs. 



224 



THE DUNCIAD 



tiee who, to use the words of a great writer, 
know how hard it is (with regard both to his 
subject and his manner) vetustis dare novitatem, 
obsoletis nitorem, ohscuris lucem, fastiditis gra- 
tiam. I am 

Your most humble Servant, 

William Cleland.^ 
St. James's, Dec. 22, 1728. 



ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION 
WITH NOTES, QUARTO, 1729 

It will be sufficient to say of this edition, that 
the reader has here a much more correct 
and complete copy of the Duneiad than has 
hitherto appeared. I cannot answer but 
some mistakes may have slipt into it, but a 
vast number of others will be prevented by 
the names being- now not only set at length, 
but justified by the authorities and reasons 
given. I make no doubt the author's own 
motive to use real rather than feigned names, 
was his care to preserve the innocent from 
any false application ; whereas, in the former 
editions, which had no more than the initial 
letters, he was made, by keys printed here, 
to hurt the inoffensive ; and (what was worse) 
to abuse his friends, by an impression at 
Dublin. 
The commentary which attends this poem was 
sent me from several hands, and consequently 
must be unequally written ; yet will have one 
advantage over most commentaries, that it is 
not made upon conjectures, or at a remote 
distance of time : and the reader cannot but 
derive one pleasure from the very obscurity 
of the persons it treats of, that it partakes of 
the nature of a secret, which most people 
love to be let into, though the men or the 
things be ever so inconsiderable or trivial. 
Of the persons, it was judged proper to give 
some account : for, since it is only in this mon- 
ument that they must expect to survive (and 
here survive they will, as long as the English 
tongue shall remain such as it was in the 
reigns of Queen Anne and King George), it 
seemed but humanity to bestow a word or two 
upon each, just to tell what he was, what he 
writ, when he lived, and when he died. 

If a word or two more are added upon the 
chief offenders, it is only as a paper pinned 
upon the breast to mark the enormities for 
which they suffered ; lest the correction only 

1 This gentleman was of Scotland, and bred at the 
University of Utrecht with the Earl of Mar. He served 
in Spain under Earl Rivers. After the peace, he was 
made one of the commissioners of the customs in Scot- 
laud, and then of taxes in England ; in which having 
shown himself for twenty years diligent, punctual, and 
incorruptible (though without any other assistance of 



should be remembered, and the crime forgot- 
ten. 

In some articles it was thought sufficient 
barely to transcribe from Jacob, Curll, and 
other writers of their own rank, who were 
much better acquainted with them than any 
of the authors of this comment can pretend to 
be. Most of them had drawn each other's 
characters on certain occasions ; but the few 
here inserted are all that could be saved from 
the general destruction of such works. 

Of the part of Scriblerus I need say nothing : 
his manner is well enough known, and ap- 
proved by all but those who are too much con- 
cerned to be judges. 

"■^ The imitations of the ancients are added, to 
gratify those who either never read, or may 
have forgotten them ; together with some of 
the parodies and allusions to the most excel- 
lent of the moderns. If, from the frequency 
of the former, any man think the poem too 
much a cento, our poet will but appear to have 
done the same thing in jest which Boileau did 
in earnest, and upon which Vida, Fracastorius, 
and many of the most eminent Latin poets, 
professedly valued themselves. 



ADVERTISEIVIENT TO THE FIRST EDITION OF 
THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE DUNCIAD, WHEN 
PRINTED SEPARATELY IN THE YEAR 1742 

We apprehend it can be deemed no injury to the 
author of the three first books of the Dun- 
eiad that we publish this fourth. It was 
found merely by accident, in taking a survey 
of the library of a late eminent nobleman ; 
but in so blotted a condition, and in so many 
detached pieces, as plainly showed it to be 
not only incorrect, but unfinished. That the 
author of the three first books had a design 
to extend and complete his poem in this 
manner, appears from the dissertation pre- 
fixed to it, where it is said, that ' The design 
is more extensive, and that we may expect 
other episodes to complete it ; ' and, from the 
declaration in the argument to the third book, 
that ' The accomplishment of the prophecies 
therein would be the theme hereafter of a 
greater Duneiad.' But whether or no he be 
the author of this, we declare ourselves ig- 
norant. If he be, we are no more to be 
blamed for the publication of it, than Tucca 
and Varius for that of the last six books of 

fortune), he was suddenly displaced by the minister, in 
the sixty-eighth year of his age, and died two months 
after, in 1741. He was a person of universal learning, 
and an enlarged conversation ; no man had a warmer 
heart for his friend, or a sincerer attachment to the con- 
stitution of his country ; and yet, for all this, the public 
would never believe him to be the author of this Letter. 



THE DUNCIAD 



225 



the ^neid, though, perhaps, inferior to the 
former. 
If any person be possessed of a more perfect 
copy of this work, or of any other fragments 
of it, and will communicate them to the pub- 
lisher, we shall make the next edition more 
complete : in which we also promise to insert 
any criticisms that shall be published (if at 
all to the purpose), with the names of the 
authors ; or any letters sent us (though not 
to the purpose) shall yet be printed, under 
the title of Epistolce obscurorum virorum ; 
which, together with some others of the 
same kind, formerly laid by for that end, 
may make no unpleasant addition to the 
future impressions of this poem. 



ADVERTISEMENT TO THE COMPLETE EDITION 
OF 1743 

I have long had a design of giving some sort 
of notes on the works of this poet. Before 
I had the happiness of his acquaintance, I 
had written a commentary on his Essay on 
Man, and have since finished another on the 
Essay on Criticism. There was one already 
on the Dnnciad, which had met with general 
approbation ; but I still thought some addi- 
tions were wanting (of a more serious kind) 
to the humorous notes of Scriblerus, and even 
to those written by Mr. Cleland, Dr. Ar- 
buthnot, and others. I had lately the plea- 
sure to pass some months with the author in 
the country, where I prevailed upon him to 
do what I had long desired, and favour me 
with his explanation of several passages in 
his works. It happened, that just at that- 
juncture was published a rid iculous bo ok) 
against him, full of personal reflections, 1 
which furnished him with a lucky opportun- 
ity of improving this poem, by giving it the 
only thing it wanted, a more considerable 
hero. He was always sensible of its defect 
in that particular, and owned he had let it 
pass with the hero it had, purely for want 
of a better, not entertaining the least expec- 
tation that such a one was reserved for this 
post as has since obtained the laurel : but 
since that had happened, he could no longer 
deny this justice either to him or the Dun- 
ciad. 

And yet I will venture to say, there was an- 
other motive which had still more weight 
with our author : this person was one who, 
from every folly (not to say vice) of which 
another would be ashamed, has constantly 
derived a vanity ; and therefore was the man 
in the world who would least be Imrt bv it. 

w.w. 



BY AUTHORITY 

By virtue of the Authority in us vested by 
the Act for subjecting Poets to the power of a 
• Licenser, we have revised this Piece ; where 
finding the style and appellation of King to 
have been given to a certain Pretender, Pseudo- 
poet, or Phantom, of the name of Tibbald ; 
and apprehending the same may be deemed in 
some sort a reflection on Majesty, or at least an 
insult on that Legal Authority which has be- 
stowed on another person the Crown of Poesy : 
we have ordered the said Pretender, Pseudo- 
poet, or Phantom, utterly to vanish and evapo- 
rate out of this work ; and do declare the said 
Throne of Poesy from henceforth to be abdi- 
cated and vacant, unless duly and lawfully 
supplied by the Laureate himself. And it 
is hereby enacted that no other person do pre- 
sume to fill the same. 

X. Ch. 

THE DUNCIAD 

TO DR. JONATHAN SWIFT 

BOOK I 

ARGUMENT 

The Proposition, the Invocation, and the In- 
scription. Then the original of the great 
Empire of Dulness, and cause of the con- 
tinuance thereof. The College of the God- 
dess in the city, with her private academy 
for Poets in particular ; the Governors of it, 
and the four Cardinal Virtues. Then the 
poem hastes into the midst of things, pre- 
senting her, on the evening of a Lord Mayor's 
day, revolving the long succession of her 
sons, and the glories past and to come. She 
fixes her eye on Bayes, to be the Instrument 
of that great event which is the Subject of 
the poem. He is described pensive among 
his books, giving up the Cause, and appre- 
hending the Period of her Empire. After 
debating whether to betake himself to the 
Church, or to Gaming, or to Party-writing, 
he raises an altar of proper books, and (mak- 
ing first his solemn prayer and declaration) 
purposes thereon to sacrifice all his unsuc- 
cessful writings. As the pile is kindled, the 
Goddess, beholding the flame from her seat, 
flies and puts it out, by casting upon it the 
poem of Thul^. She forthwith reveals her- 
self to him, transports him to her Temple, 
unfolds her Arts, and initiates him into her 
Mysteries ; then announcing the death of 
Eusden, the Poet Laureate, anoints him, 
carries him to Court, and proclaims him 
Successor. 



IAti^vI^vaXv-^ 



226 




THE DUNCIAD 



The Mighty Mother, and her son who 

brings 
The Smithfield Muses to the ear of Kings, 
I sing. Say you, her instruments the 

great! 
Call'd to this work by Dulness, Jove, and 

Fate; 
You by whose care, in vain decried and 

curst, 
Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce 

the first; 
Say how the Goddess bade Britannia sleep. 
And pour'd her Spirit, o'er the land and 

deep. 
In eldest time, ere mortals writ or read. 
Ere Pallas issued from the Thund'rer's 

head, lo 

/ Dulness o'er all possess'd her ancient right, 
' Daughter of Chaos and eternal Night: 
Fate in their dotage this fair idiot gave, 
Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave; 
Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind. 
She ruled, in native anarchy, the mind. 

Still her old empire to restore she tries, 
For,^bprn a Goddess, Dulness never dies. 

O thou! whatever title please thine ear, 
Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver! 20 
Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious 

air. 
Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair. 
Or praise the Court, or magnify Mankind, 
Or thy griev'd country's copper chains 

unbind; 
From thy Bceotia tho' her power retires. 
Mourn not, my Swift! at aught our realm 

requires. 
Here pleas 'd behold her mighty wings out- 
spread 
To hatch a new Saturnian age of Lead. 
Close to those walls where Folly holds 

her throne, 
And laughs to think Monroe would take 

her down, 30 

Where o'er the gates, by his famed father's 

hand, 
) Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers 
I stand ; 

One cell there is, conceal'd from vulgar eye, 
The cave of Poverty and Poetry: 
Keen hollow winds howl thro' the bleak re- 
cess. 
Emblem of Music caus'd by Emptiness: 
Hence bards, like Proteus long in vain tied 

down, 
Escape in monsters, and amaze the town; 



Hence Miscellanies spring, the weekly boast 

Of Curll's chaste press, and Liutot's rubric 
post; 40 

Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lines; 

Hence Journals, Medleys, Merceries, Maga- 
zines; 

Sepulchral Lies, our holy walls to grace. 

And new-year Odes, and all the Grub- 
street race. 
In clouded majesty here Dulness shone,\ 

Four guardian Virtues, round, support hec 
throne : 

Fierce champion Fortitude , that knows no 
fears 

Of hisses, blows, or want, or loss of ears: 

Calm Temperajice, whose blessings those 
partake^ 

Who hunger and who thirst for scribbling 
sake : 50 

Prudence, whose glass presents th' ap- 
preaching jail: 

Poetic Justice,;, with her lifted scale. 

Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she 
weighs. 

And solid pudding against empty praise. 
Here she beholds the Chaos dark and 
deep. 

Where nameless somethings in their causes 
sleep, 

Till genial Jacob, or a warm third day, 

Call forth each mass, a Poem or a Play : 

How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in em- 
bryo lie. 

How new-born nonsense first is taught to 
-cry, 60 

Maggots, half-form'd, in rhyme exactly 
meet, 

And learn to crawl upon poetic feet. 

Here one poor word a hundred clenches 
makes. 

And ductile Dulness new meanders takes; 

There motley images her fancy strike, 

Figures ill pair'd, and Similes unlike. 

She sees a Mob of Metaphors advance, 

Pleas'd with the madness of the mazy 
dance ; 

How Tragedy and Comedy embrace; 

How Farce and Epic get a jumbled race; 70 

How Time himself stands still at her com- 
mand, 

Realms shift their place, and Ocean turns 
to land. 

Here gay description Egypt glads with 
showers. 

Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers; 



THE DUNCIAD 



227 



Glitt'ring with ice here hoary hills are seen, 
There painted valleys of eternal green; 
In cold December fragrant chaplets blow, 
And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow. 
All these, and more, the cloud-compell- 
ing Queen 79 
Beholds thro' fogs that magnify the scene. 
She, tinsel'd o'er in robes of varying hues. 
With self-applause her wild creation views; 
Sees momentary monsters rise and fall, 
And with her own fools-colours gilds them 

all. 
'T was on the day when Thorold, rich 

and grave, 
Like Cimon, triumph'd both on land and 

wave 
(Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords 

and maces, 
Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners, and 

broad faces): 
Now Night descending, the proud scene 

was o'er. 
But lived in Settle's numbers one day more. 
Now Mayors and Shrieves all hush'd and 

satiate lay, 91 

Yet eat, in dreams, the custard of the day; 
While pensive Poets painful vigils keep. 
Sleepless themselves to give their readers 

sleep. 
Much to the mindful Queen the feast re- 
calls 
What city swans once sung within the 

walls; 
Much she revolves their arts, their ancient 

praise. 
And sure succession down from Heywood's 

days. 
She saw with joy the line immortal run. 
Each sire imprest and glaring in his son. 100 
So watchful Bruin forms, with plastic care, 
Each growing lump, and brings it to a 

bear. 
She saw old Prynne in restless Daniel 

shine, 
And Eusden eke out Blackmore's endless 

line; 
She saw slow Philips creep like Tate's poor 

page. 
And all the mighty mad in Dennis rage. 
In each she marks her image full exprest. 
But chief in Bayes's monster-breeding 
. /] breast; 
Bayes, form'd by nature stage and town to 

bless, 109 

And act, and be, a coxcomb with success; 



Dulness with transport eyes the lively 

dunce, 
Rememb'ring she herself was Pertness 

once. 
Now (shame to Fortune !) an ill run at play 
Blank'd his bold visage, and a thin third 

day : 
Swearing and supperless the hero sate. 
Blasphemed his gods the dice, and damn'd 

his fate; 
Then gnaw'd his pen, then dash'd it on the 

ground. 
Sinking from thought to thought, a vast 

profound ! 
Plunged for his sense, but found no bottom 

there. 
Yet wrote and flounder'd on in mere de- 
spair. 120 
Round him much Embryo, much Abortion 

lay. 
Much future Ode, and abdicated Play; 
Nonsense precipitate, like running lead. 
That slipp'd thro' cracks and zigzags of 

the head; 
All that on folly frenzy could beget. 
Fruits of dull heat, and Sooterkins of ^it. 
Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll. 
In pleasing memory of all he stole; 
How here he sipp'd, how there he plunder'd 

snug, ^ ^ 129/ 

And suck'dall o'er like an industrious bug.' 
Here lay poor Fletcher's half-eat scenes, 

and here 

The frippery of crucified Moli^re; 

There hapless Shakspeare, yet of Tibbald 1 

sore, 
Wish'd he had blotted for himself before. 
The rest on outside merit but presume. 
Or serve (like other fools) to fill a room; 
Such with their shelves as due proportion 

hold. 
Or their fond parents dress'd in red and 

gold; 
Or where the pictures for the page atone. 
And Quarles is saved by beauties not his 

own. 140 

Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the great; 
There, stamp'd with arms, Newcastle shines 

complete: 
Here all his sufp'ring brotherhood retire. 
And 'scape the martyrdom of jakes and 

fire: 
A Gothic library! of Greece and Rome 
Well purged, and worthy Settle, Banks, 

and Broome. 



228 



THE DUNCIAD 



But, high above, more solid Learning 

shone, 
The classics of an age that heard of none; 
There Caxton slept, with Wynkyn at his 

side, 
One clasp'd in wood, and one in strong 

cow-hide; 150 

There, saved by spice, like mummies, many 

a year. 
Dry bodies of Divinity appear: 
De Lyra there a dreadful front extends, 
And here the groaning shelves Philemon 

bends. 
Of these, twelve volumes, twelve of am- 
plest size, 
Redeem'd from tapers and defrauded pies, 
Inspired he seizes: these an altar raise; 
A hecatomb of pure unsullied lays 
That altar crowns; a folio Commonplace 
Founds the whole pile, of all his works the 

base: 160 

Quartos, octavos, shape the less'ning pyre, 
A twisted Birth-day Ode completes the 

spire. 
Then he: * Great tamer of all human art! 
First in my care, and ever at my heart; 
Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend, 
With whom my Muse began, with whom 

shall end. 
E'er since Sir Fopling's periwig was praise. 
To the last honours of the Butt and Bays: 
O thou! of bus'ness the directing soul 
To this our head, like bias to the bowl, 170 
Which, as more pond'rous, made its aim 

more true, 
Obliquely waddling to the mark in view: 
Oh! ever gracious to perplex'd mankind. 
Still spread a healing mist before the mind ; 
And, lest we err by Wit's wild dancing 

light. 
Secure us kindly in our native night. 
Or, if to Wit a coxcomb make pretence. 
Guard the sure barrier between that and 

Sense ; 
Or quite unravel all the reas'ning thread, 
And hang some curious cobweb in its stead! 
As, forced from wind-guns, lead itself can 

fly, 181 

And pond'rous slugs cut swiftly thro' the 

sky; 
As clocks to weight their nimble motion 

owe. 
The wheels above urged by the load below; 
Me Emptiness and Dulness could inspire. 
And were my elasticity and fire. 



Some Daemon stole my pen (forgive th' 

offence), 
And once betray 'd me into common sense: 
Else all my prose and verse were much the 

same ; 189 

This prose on stilts, that poetry fall'n lame. 
Did on the stage my fops appear confin'd ? 
My life gave ampler lessons to mankinds 
Dfd'the dead letter unsuccessful prove ? 
The brisk example never fail'd to move. 
Yet sure, had Heav'n decreed to save the 

state, 
Heav'n had decreed these works a longer 

date. 
Could Troy be saved by any single hand, 
This gray-goose weapon must have made 

her stand. 
What can I now ? my Fletcher cast aside, 
Take up the Bible, once my better guide ? 
Or tread the path by venturous heroes 

trod, 201 

This box my Thunder, this right hand my 

God? 
Or chair'd at White's, amidst the doctors 

sit. 
Teach oaths to Gamesters, and to Nobles 

Wit ? 
O bidd'st thou rather Party to embrace ? 
(A friend to party thou, and all her race; 
'T is the same rope at diff'reut ends they 

twist; 
To Dulness Ridpath is as dear as Mist;) 
Shall I, like Curtius, desp'rate in my zeal. 
O'er head and ears plunge for the Com- 
monweal ? 210 
Or rob Rome's ancient geese of all their 

glories. 
And cackling save the monarchy of Tories ? 
Hold — to the Minister I more incline; 
To serve his cause, O Queen! is serving 

thine. 
And see! thy very Gazetteers give o'er, 
Ev'n Ralph repents, and Henley writes no 

more. 
What then remains ? Ourself. Still, still 

remain 
Cibberian forehead, and Cibberian brain; 
This brazen brightness to the 'Squire so 

dear; 
This polish'd hardness that reflects the 

Peer; 220 

This arch absurd, that wit and fool de- 
lights ; 
This mess, toss'd up of Hockley-hole and 

White's; 



THE DUNCIAD 



229 



Where dukes and butchers join to wreathe 

my crowu, 
At once the Bear and fiddle of the town. 

' born in sin, and forth in folly brought! 
Works damn'd or to be damn'd (your fa- 
ther's fault)! 
Go, purified by flames, ascend the sky, 
My better and more Christian progeny! 
Uustain'd, untouch'd, and yet in maiden 

sheets. 
While all your smutty sisters walk the 

streets. 230 

Ye shall not beg, like gratis-given Bland, 
Sent with a pass and vagrant thro' the 

land; 
Not sail with Ward to ape-and-monkey 

climes, 
Where vile Mundungus trucks for viler 

rhymes; 
Not sulphur-tipt, emblaze an alehouse fire! 
Not wrap up oranges to pelt your sire! 
O! pass more innocent, in infant state, 
To the mild limbo of our Father Tate: 
Or peaceably forgot, at once be blest 
In Shadwell's bosom with eternal rest! 240 
Soon to that mass of nonsense to return, 
Where things destroy 'd are swept to things 

unborn.' 
With that, a tear (portentous sign of 

grace!) 
Stole from the master of the sev'nfold 

face; 
And thrice he lifted high the Birthday 

brand, 
And thrice he dropt it from his quiv'ring 

hand ; 
Then lights the structure with averted 

eyes: 
The rolling smoke involves the sacrifice. 
The opening clouds disclose each work by 

turns, 
Now flames the Cid, and now Perolla 

burns; 250 

Great Caesar roars and hisses in the fires; 
King John in silence modestly expires: 
No merit now the dear Nonjuror claims, 
Moli^re's old stubble in a moment flames. 
Tears gush'd again, as from pale Priam's 

eyes, 
When the last blaze sent Ilion to the 

skies. 
Rous'd by the light, old Dulness heav'd 

the head. 
Then snatch'd a sheet of Thuld from her 
\ bed; 



Sudden she flies, and whelms it o'er the 

pyre: 
Down sink the flames, and with a hiss 

expire. 260 

Her ample presence fills up all the 

place ; 
A veil of fogs dilates her awful face: 
Great in her charms! as when on Shrieves 

and Mayors 
She looks, and breathes herself into their 

airs. 
She bids him wait her to her sacred dome: 
Well pleas'd he enter'd, and confess'd his 

home. 
So spirits ending their terrestrial race 
Ascend, and recognize their Native Place. 
This the Great Mother dearer held than 

all 
The clubs of Quidnuncs, or her own Guild- 
hall: 270 
Here stood her opium, here she nursed her 

owls. 
And here she plann'd th' imperial seat of 

Fools. 
Here to her chosen all her works she 

shows. 
Prose swell'd to verse, verse loit'ring into 

prose: 
How random thoughts now meaning chance 

to find. 
Now leave all memory of sense behind: 
How Prologues into Prefaces decay, 
And these to Notes are fritter'd quite 

away: 
How index-learning turns no student pale. 
Yet holds the eel of science by the tail: 
How, with less reading than makes felons 

scape, 281 ■ •• 

Less human genius than God gives an ape, 
Small thanks to France, and none to Rome -C. 

or Greece, 
A past, vamp'd future, old revived, new 

piece, 
'Twixt Plautus, Fletcher, Shakspeare, and 

Corneille, 
Can make a Cibber, Tibbald, or Ozell. 

The Goddess then o'er his anointed head. 
With mystic words, the sacred opium shed. 
And lo! her bird (a monster of a fowl, 
Something betwixt a heideggre and an 

owl) 290 

Perch'd on his crown: — 'All hail! and 

hail again, 
My son! the promised land expects thy 

reign. 



230 



THE DUNCIAD 



^ Know Eusden thirsts no more for sack or 
praise ; 

He sleeps among the dull of ancient days ; 

Safe where no critics damn, no dmis 
molest, 

Where wretched Withers, Ward, and Gil- 
don rest. 

And high-born Howard, more majestic 
sire. 

With fool of quality completes the quire. 

Thou, Gibber ! thou his laurel shalt sup- 
port ; 299 

Folly, my son, has still a Friend at Court. 

Lift up your gates, ye princes, see him 
come! 

Sound, sound ye viols, be the cat-call 
dumb! 
^^ring, bring the madding Bay, the drunken 
Vine, 

The creeping, dirty, courtly Ivy join. 

And thou! his Aid-de-camp, lead on my 
sons, 

Light-arm'd with Points, Antitheses, and 
Puns. 

Let Bawdry, Billingsgate, my daughters 
dear. 

Support his front, and Oaths bring up the 
rear: 

And under his, and under Archer's wing, 

Gaming and Grub-street skulk behmd the 
King. 310 

* Oh ! when shall rise a monarch all our 
own. 

And I, a nursing mother, rock the throne; 

'Twixt Prince and People close the curtain 
draw. 

Shade him from light, and cover him from 
law; 

Fatten the Courtier, starve the learned 
band, 

And suckle Armies, and dry-nurse the 
land; 

Till Senates nod to lullabies divine. 

And all be sleep, as at an Ode of thine ? ' 
She ceas'd. Then swells the Chapel- 
royal throat; 

* God save King Cibber ! ' mounts in every 
note. - 320 

Familiar White's, *God save King CoUey! ' 
cries, 

*God save King CoUey ! ' Drury-lane re- 
plies. 

To Needham's quick the voice triumphant 
rode, 

But pious Needham dropt the name of God ; 



Back to the Devil the last echoes roll, 
And 'Coll ! ' each butcher roars at Hock- 
ley-hole. 
So when Jove's block descended from on 
high 
(As sings thy great forefather Ogilby), 
Loud thunder to its bottom shook the 

bog, 
And the hoarse nation croak'd, ' God save 
King Log ! ' 330 



BOOK II 

ARGUMENT 

The King being proclaimed, the solemnity is 
graced with public games and sports of vari- 
ous kinds ; not instituted by the Hero, as by 
-^neas in Virgil, but for greater honour by 
the Goddess in person (in like manner as the 
games Pytliia, Isthmia, &c. were anciently 
said to be ordained by the Gods, and as The- 
tis herself appearing, according to Homer, 
Odyssey xxiv. proposed the prizes in honour 
of her son Achilles). Hither flock the Poets 
and Critics, attended, as is but just, -with 
their Patrons and Booksellers. The Goddess 
is first pleased, for her disport, to propose 
games to the Booksellers, and setteth up the 
phantom of a Poet, which they contend to 
overtake. The Races described, with their 
divers accidents. Next, the game for a 
Poetess. Then follow the exercises for the 
Poets, of tickling, vociferating, diving ; the 
first holds forth the arts and practices of 
Dedicators, the second of Disputants and 
fustian Poets, the third of profound, dark, 
and dirty Party-writers. Lastly, for the 
Critics the Goddess proposes (with great pro- 
priety) an exercise, not of their parts, but 
their patience, in hearing the w^orks of two 
voluminous authors, the one in verse and the 
other in prose, deliberately read, without 
sleeping ; the various effects of which, with 
the several degrees and manners of their op- 
eration, are here set forth, till the whole 
number, not of Critics only, hut of specta- 
tors, actors, and all present, fall fast asleep ; 
which naturally and necessarily ends the 
games. 

High on a gorgeous seat, that far out- 
shone 

Henley's gilt tub or Fleckno's Irish throne, 

Or that whereon her Curlls the public 
pours. 

All bounteous, fragrant grains and golden 
showers. 



THE DUNCIAD !. r*'' 



rv> 




231 



/Great Gibber sate; the proud Parnassian 
{ sneer, 

^ The conscious simper, and the jealous leer, 
Mix on his look: all eyes direct their 

rays 
On him, and crowds turn coxcombs as they 

gaze. 
His peers shine round him with reflected 

grace, 
New-edge their dulness, and new-bronze 

their face. 10 

So from the sun's broad beam, in shallow 

urns, 
Heav'n's twinkling sparks draw light, and 

point their horns. 
Not with more glee, by hands pontific 

crown'd, 
With scarlet hats wide - waving circled 

round, 
Rome, in her capitol saw Querno sit, 
Throned on sev'n hills, the Antichrist of 

wit. 
And now the Queen, to glad her sons, 

proclaims 
By herald hawkers, high heroic games. 
They summon all her race: an endless 

band 
Pours forth, and leaves unpeopled half the 

land ; 20 

A motley mixture! in long wigs, in bags. 
In silks, in crapes, in Garters, and in Kags, 
From drawing rooms, from colleges, from 

garrets. 
On horse, on foot, in hacks, and gilded 

chariots; 
All who true Dunces in her cause appear'd, 
And all who knew those Dunces to reward. 
Amid that area wide they took their 

stand. 
Where the tall Maypole once o'erlook'd the 

Strand, 
But now (so Anne and Piety ordain) 
A Church collects the saints of Drury-lane. 
With Authors, Stationers obey'd the 

call 31 

(The field of glory is a field for all) ; 
Glory and gain th' industrious tribe pro- 
voke, 
/And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke. 
A poet's form she placed before their eyes. 
And bade the nimblest racer seize the 

prize ; 
No meagre. Muse-rid Mope, adust and 

thin, 
In a dun nightgown of his own loose skin, 



But such a bulk as no twelve bards could 

raise, 
Twelve starveling bards of these degen'rate 

days. 40 

All as a partridge plump, full fed and fair. 
She form'd this image of well-bodied air; 
With pert flat eyes she window'd well its 

head, 
A brain of Feathers, and a heart of Lead ; 
And empty words she gave, and sounding 

strain, 
But senseless, lifeless! idol void and vain! 
Never was dash'd out, at one lucky hit, 
A Fool so just a copy of a Wit; 
So like, that Critics said, and Courtiers 

swore, 
A Wit it was, and call'd the phantom 

Moore. 50 

All gaze with ardour: some a poet's 

name, 
Others a swordknot and laced suit inflame. 
But lofty Lintot in the circle rose: 
' This prize is mine, who tempt it are my 

foes; 
With me began this genius, and shall end.* 
He spoke; and who with Lintot shall con- 
tend ? 
Fear held them mute. Alone untaught 

to fear. 
Stood dauntless Curll: 'Behold that rival 

here! 
The race by vigour, not by vaunts, is won; 
So take the hindmost. Hell,' he said, and 

run. 60 

Swift as a bard the bailiff leaves behind, 
He left huge Lintot, and outstript the wind. 
As when a dabchick waddles thro' the 

copse 
On feet and wings, and flies, and wades, 

and hops; 
So lab'ring on, with shoulders, hands, and 

head. 
Wide as a windmill all his figure spread. 
With arms expanded Bernard rows his state, 
And left-legg'd Jacob seems to emulate. 
Full in the middle way there stood a lake. 
Which Curll's Corinna chanced that morn 

to make 70 

(Such was her wont, at early dawn to drop 
Her ev'ning cates before his neighbour's 

shop) : 
Here fortuned Curll to slide; loud shout 

the band, 
And 'Bernard! Bernard!' rings thro' all 

the Strand. 



232 



THE DUNCIAD 



Obscene with filth the miscreant lies be- 
wray 'd, 
Fall'n in the plash his wickedness had laid : 
Then first (if Poets aught of truth declare) 
The caitiff Vaticide conceiv'd a prayer. 
* Hear, Jove! whose name my bards and 
I adore, 
As much at least as any God's, or more ; 80 
And him and his, if more devotion warms, 
Down with the Bible, up with the Pope's 
Arms.' 
A place there is betwixt earth, air, and 
seas. 
Where, from ambrosia, Jove retires for 

ease. 
There in his seat two spacious vents ap- 
pear, 
On this he sits, to that he leans his ear, 
And hears the various vows of fond Man- 
kind ; 
Some beg an eastern, some a western wind: 
All vain petitions, mounting to the sky, 
With reams abundant this abode supply: 90 
Amused he reads, and then returns the bills, 
Sign'd with that ichor which from Gods 
distils. 
In office here fair Cloacina stands, 
And ministers to Jove with purest hands. 
Forth from the heap she pick'd her vot'ry's 

prayer, 
And placed it next him, a distinction rare! 
Oft had the Goddess heard her servant's 

call, 
From .her black grottos near the temple 

wall, 
Listening delighted to the jest unclean 
Of linkboys vile, and watermen obscene; 100 
Where as he fish'd her nether realms for 

wit, 
She oft had favour'd him, and favours yet. 
Renew'd by ordure's sympathetic force, 
As oil'd with magic juices for the course, 
Vig'rous he rises; from th' effluvia strong; 
Imbibes new life, and scours and stinks 

along; 
Repasses Lintot, vindicates the race, 
Nor heeds the brown dishonours of his face. 
And now the victor stretch'd his eager 
hand 
Where the tall Nothing stood, or seem'd to 
stand; no 

A shapeless shade, it melted from his 

sight, 
Like forms in clouds, or visions of the 
night. 



To seize his papers, Curll, was next thy care ; 

His papers light, fly diverse, toss'd in air; 

Songs, Sonnets, Epigrams, the winds uplift, 1 

And whisk 'em back to Evans, Young, and 
Swift. 

Th' embroider'd suit at least he deem'd his 
prey; 

That suit an unpaid tailor snatch'd away\ 

No rag, no scrap, of all the Beau or Wit/ 

That once so flutter'd and that once so 
writ. 120 

Heav'n rings with laughter: of the 
laughter vain, 

Dulness, good Queen, repeats the jest 
again. 

Three wicked imps of her own Grub-street 
choir. 

She deck'd like Congreve, Addison, and 
Prior; 

Mears, Warner, Wilkins, run; delusive 
thought! 

Breval, Bond, Bezaleel, the varlets caught. 

Curll stretches after Gay, but Gay is gone, 

He grasps an empty Joseph for a John: 

So Proteus, hunted in a nobler shape, 

Became, when seized, a puppy or an ape. 
To him the Goddess: ' Sou! thy grief lay 
down, 131 

And turn this whole illusion on the town. 

As the sage dame, experienced in her trade, 

By names of toasts retails each batter'd 
jade 

(Whence hapless Monsieur much complains 
at Paris 

Of wrongs from Duchesses and Lady Ma- 
ries) ; 

Be thine, my stationer! this magic gift; 

Cook shall be Prior; and Concanen Swift; 

So shall each hostile name become our own, 

And we, too, boast our Garth and Addison.' 

With that she gave him (piteous of his 

case, 141 

Yet smiling at his rueful length of face) 

A shaggy tap'stry, worthy to be spread 

On Codrus' old, or Dunton's modern bed; 

Instructive work! whose wry-mouth'd por- 
traiture 

Display'd the fates her confessors endure. 

Earless on high stood unabash'd De Foe, 

And Tutchin flagrant from the scourge be- 
low: 

There Ridpath, Roper, cudgell'-d might ye 
view, 

The very worsted still look'd black and 
blue; 150 



THE DUNCIAD 






'^< 



233 



Himself among the storied chiefs he spies, 
As, from the blanket, high in air he flies, 
And, *0h! (he cried) what street, what 

lane but knows 
Our purgings, pumpings, blanketings and 

blows ? 
In every loom our labours shall be seen. 
And the fresh vomit run for ever green! ' 

See in the circle next Eliza placed. 
Two babes of love close clinging to her 

waist; 
Fair as before her works she stands con- 

fess'd. 
In flowers and pearls by bounteous Kirkall 

dress'd. 160 

The Goddess then: 'Who best can send 

on high 
The salient spout, far-streaming to the 

sky. 
His be yon Juno of majestic size, 
With cow-like udders, and with ox-like 

eyes. 
This China Jordan let the chief o'er- 

come 
Replenish, not ingloriously, at home.* 
Osborne and Curll accept the glorious 

strife 
(Tho' this his son dissuades, and that his 

wife) ; 
One on his manly confidence relies, 
One on his vigour and superior size. 170 

First Osborne lean'd against his letter'd 

post; 
It rose, and labour'd to a curve at most: 
So Jove's bright bow displays its wat'ry 

round 
(Sure sign that no spectator shall be 

drown'd). 
A second effort brought but new disgrace. 
The wild mseander wash'd the Artist's 

face: 
Thus the small jet, which hasty hands un- 
lock. 
Spirts in the gard'ner's eyes who turns the 

cock. 
Not so from shameless Curll; impetuous 

spread 
The stream, and smoking flourish'd o'er his 

head: 180 

So (famed like thee for turbulence and 

horns) 
Eridanus his humble fountain scorns; 
Thro' half the heav'ns he pours th' exalted 

urn; 
His rapid waters in their passage burn. 



Swift as it mounts, all follow with their 
eyes; 
Still happy Impudence obtains the prize. 
Thou triumph'st, victor of the high- wrought 

day. 
And the pleas'd dame, soft smiling, lead'st 

away. 
Osborne, thro' perfect modesty o'ercome, 
Crown'd with the Jordan, walks contented 
home. 190 

But now for Authors nobler palms re- 
main ; 
Room for my Lord! three jockeys in his 

train; 
Six huntsmen with a shout precede his 

chair: 
He grins, and looks broad nonsense with a 

stare. 
His honour's meaning Dulness thus exprest, 
* He wins this patron who can tickle best.' 
He chinks his purse, and takes his seat 
of state; 
With ready quills the dedicators wait; 
Now at his head the dext'rous task com- 
mence, 199 
And, instant, fancy feels th' imputed sense; 
Now gentle touches wanton o'er his face, 
He struts Adonis, and affects grimace; 
Rolli the feather to his ear conveys. 
Then his nice taste directs our operas; 
Bentley his mouth with classic flatt'ry opes, 
And the puff'd orator bursts out in tropes. 
But Welsted most the poet's healing balm 
Strives to extract from his soft, giving 

palm. 
Unlucky Welsted! thy unfeeling master, 
The more thou ticklest, gripes his fist the 
faster. 210 

While thus each hand promotes the pleas- 
ing pain, 
And quick sensations skip from vein to vein, 
A youth unknown to Phoebus, in despair, 
Puts his last refuge all in Heav'n and 

prayer. 
What force have pious vows! The Queen 

of Love 
Her sister sends, her votaress from above. 
As taught by Venus, Paris learn'd the art 
To touch Achilles' only tender part; 
Secure, thro' her, the noble prize to carry, 
He marches off, his Grace's Secretar3^ 220 
' Now turn to diff'rent sports (the God- 
dess cries), 
And learn, my sons, the wondrous power 
of Noise. 



) 



234 



J' 



^ 



THE DUNCIAD 



\' 



To move, to raise, to ravish ev'ry heart, 
[With Shakespeare's nature, or with Jonson's 

art. 

Let others aim ; 't is yours to shake the soul 
With thunder rumbling from the mustard 

bowl; 
With horns and trumpets now to madness 

swell, 
Now sink in sorrow with a tolling bell! 
Such happy arts attention can command 
When Fancy flags, and Sense is at a stand. 
Improve we these. Three Cat-calls be the 

bribe 231 

Of him whose chatt'ring shames the mon- 
key tribe; 
And his this drum, whose hoarse heroic bass 
Drowns the loud clarion of the braying ass.' 
Now thousand tongues are heard in one 

loud din: 
The monkey mimics rush discordant in; 
'T was chatt'ring, grinning, mouthing, jab- 

b'ring all. 
And noise and Norton, brangling and 

Breval, 
^Dennis and dissonance, and captious art, 
And snipsnap short, and interruption 

smart, 240 

And demonstration thin, and theses thick. 
And Major, Minor, and Conclusion quick. 
' Hold (cried the Queen), a Cat-call each 

shall win; 
Equal your merits! equal is your din! 
But that this well-disputed game may end, 
Sound forth, my Brayers, and the welkin 

rend.' 
As when the long-ear'd milky mothers 

wait 
At some sick miser's triple-bolted gate. 
For their defrauded absent foals they make 
A moan so loud, that all the guild awake; 
Sore sighs Sir Gilbert, starting at the bray. 
From dreams of millions, and three groats 

to pay, 252 

So swells each windpipe; ass intones to ass, 
Harmonic twang! of leather, horn, and 

brass ; 
Such as from lab'ring lungs th' Enthusi- 
ast blows. 
High sound, attemper'd to the vocal nose; 
Or such as bellow from the deep divine; 
There Webster! peal'd thy voice, and, 

Whitefield! thine. 
But far o'er all, sonorous Blackmore's strain ; 
Walls, steeples, skies, bray back to him 

again ; 260 



In Tot'nam Fields the brethren, with amaze. 

Prick all their ears up, and forget to graze! 

Long Chancery Lane retentive rolls the 
sound, 

And courts to courts return it round and 
round ; 

Thames wafts it thence to Kufus' roaring 
hall. 

And Hungerford reechoes bawl for bawl. 

All hail him victor in both gifts of song. 

Who sings so loudly, and who sings so long. 
This labour past, by Bridewell all de- 
scend 

(As morning prayer and flagellation end) 270 

To where Fleet Ditch, with disemboguing 
streams. 

Rolls the large tribute of dead dogs to 
Thames; 

The king of dykes! than whom no sluice of 
mud 

With deeper sable blots the silver flood. 

' Here strip, my children! here at once 
leap in; 

Here prove who best can dash thro' thick 
and thin. 

And who the most in love of dirt excel, 

Or dark dexterity of groping well: 

Who flings most filth, and wide pollutes 
around 

The stream, be his the Weekly Journals 
bound; 280 

A Pig of Lead to him who dives the best; 

A Peck of Coals apiece shall glad the rest.' 
In naked majesty Qldmixon stands. 

And, Milo-like, surveys his arms and 
hands; 

Then sighing, thus, ' And am I now three- 
score ? 

Ah, why, ye Gods! should two and two 
make four ? ' 

He said, and climb'd a stranded lighter's 
height, 

Shot to the black abyss, and plunged down- 
right. 

The senior's judgment all the crowd ad- 
mire, 289 

Who but to sink the deeper rose the higher. 
Next Smedley dived; slow circles dim- 
pled o'er 

The quaking mud, that closed and oped no 
more. 

All look, all sigh, and call on Smedley 
lost; 

'Smedley! ' in vain resounds thro* all the 
coast. 



THE DUNCIAD 



235 



r^<^^£heii [ Hill] essay'd; scarce vauish'd out 

of sight, 
He buoys up instant, and returns to light; 
He bears no tokens of the sabler streams. 
And mounts far off among the swans of 

Thames. 
True to the bottom, see Cqncanen creep, 
A cold, long-winded native of the deep; 300 
If perseverance gain the diver's prize. 
Not everlasting Blackmore this denies: 



No 



stir, no motion canst thou 



Th' 



sleeps 



o er 



thee 



noise, no 
make; 
unconscious stream 
like a lake. 
Next plunged a feeble, but a desp'rate 
pack, 

With each a sickly brother at his back: 

Sons of a Day! just buoyant on the flood. 

Then nuraber'd with the puppies in the 
mud. 

Ask ye their names ? I could as soon dis- 
close 

The names of these blind puppies as of 
those. 310 

Fast by, like Niobe (her children gone). 

Sits mother Osborne, stupefied to stone! 

And monumental brass this record bears, 

'These are, ah no! these were the Gazet- 
teers! ' 
Not so bold Arnall; with a weight of skull 

Furious he dives, precipitately dull. 

Whirlpools and storms his circling arms 
invest, 

With all the might of gravitation blest. 

No crab more active in the dirty dance, 

Downward to climb, and backward to ad- 
vance, 320 

He brings up half the bottom on his head, 

And loudly claims the Journals and the 
Lead. 
The plunging Prelate, and his pond'rous 
Grace, 

With holy envy gave one layman place. 

When lo! a burst of thunder shook the 
flood. 

Slow rose a form in majesty of mud; 

Shaking the horrors of his sable brows. 

And each ferocious feature grim with ooze. 

Greater he looks, and more than mortal 
stares; 

Then thus the wonders of the deep de- 
clares. 330 
First he relates how, sinking to the chin, 

Smit with his mien, the mud-nymphs suck'd 
him in; 



How young Lutetia, softer than the down, 
Nigrina black, and Merdamante brown, 
Vied for his love in jetty bovvers below, 
As Hylas fair was ravish'd long ago. 
Then sung, how shown him by the nut- 
brown maids 
A branch of Styx here rises from the 

shades. 
That tinctured as it runs with Lethe's 

streams. 
And wafting vapours from the land of 
dreams 340 

(As under seas Alpheus' secret sluice 
Bears Pisa's offering to his Arethuse), 
Pours into Thames; and hence the mingled 

wave 
Intoxicates the pert, and lulls the grave: 
Here, brisker vapours o'er the Temple 

creep; 
There, all from Paul's to Algate drink and 
sleep. 
Thence to the banks where rev'rend 
bards repose 
They led him soft; each rev'rend bard 

arose ; 
And Milbourn chief, deputed by the rest. 
Gave him the cassock, surcingle, and vest. 
' Receive (he said) these robes which once 
were mine; 351 

Dulness is sacred in a sound divine.' 
He ceas'd, and spread the robe ; the crowd 

confess 
The rev'rend flamen in his lengthen'd dress. 
Around him wide a sable army stand, 
A low-born, cell-bred, selfish, servile band. 
Prompt or to guard or stab, or saint or 

damn, 
Heav'n's Swiss, who fight for any God or 
Man. 
Thro' Lud's famed gates, along the well- 
known Fleet, 
Rolls the black troop, and overshades the 
street, 360 

Till showers of Sermons, Characters, Es- 
says, 
In circling fleeces whiten all the ways. 
So clouds replenish'd from some bog below. 
Mount in dark volumes, and descend in 

snow. 
Here stopt the Goddess; and in pomp pro- 
claims 
A gentler exercise to close the games. 
* Ye Critics! in whose heads, as equal 
scales, 
I weigh what author's heaviness prevails; 



236 



THE DUNCIAD 



Which most conduce to soothe the soul in 

slumbers, 
My Henley's periods, or my Blackmore's 

numbers; 370 

Attend the trial we propose to make: 
I If there be man who o'er such works can 
I wake, 

I Sleep's all subduing charms who dares defy, 
I And boasts Ulysses' ear with Argus' eye; 
ITo him we grant our amplest powers to sit 
Ijudge of all present, past, and future wit; 
To cavil, censure, dictate, right or wrong, 
Full and eternal privilege of tongue.' 
Three college Sophs, and three pert 

Templars came. 
The same their talents, and their tastes the 

same! 380 

Each prompt to query, answer, and debate, 
And smit with love of Poesy and Prate. 
The pond'rous books two gentle readers 

bring; 
The heroes sit, the vulgar form a ring ; 
The clam'rous crowd is hush'd with mugs 

of mum, 
Till all tuned equal send a gen'ral hum. 
Then mount the clerks, and in one lazy tone 
Thro' the long, heavy, painful page drawl 

on; 
Soft creeping words on words the sense 

compose, 
At ev'ry line they stretch, they yawn, they 

doze. 390 

As to soft gales top-heavy pines bow low 
Their heads, and lift them as they cease to 

blow. 
Thus oft they rear, and oft the head de- 
cline. 
As breathe, or pause, by fits, the airs 

divine ; 
And now to this side, now to that they nod. 
As verse, or prose, infuse the drowsy God. 
Thrice Budgell aim'd to speak, but thrice 

supprest 
By potent Arthur, knock'd his chin and 

breast. 
Toland and Tindal, prompt at priests to 

jeer. 
Yet silent bow'd to * Christ's no kmgdom 

here.' 400 

Who sat the nearest, by the words o'ercome, 
Slept first; the distant nodded to the hum. 
Then down are roU'd the books; stretch'd 

o'er 'em lies 
Each gentle clerk, and mutt'ring seals his 

eyes. 



As what a Dutchman plumps into the lakes. 
One circle first and then a second makes, 
What Dulness dropt among her sons im- 
prest 
Like motion from one circle to the rest: 
So from the midmost the nutation spreads, 
Round and more round, o'er all the sea of 

heads. 410 

At last Centlivre felt her voice to fail; 
Motteux himself unfinish'd left his tale; 
Boyer the state, and Law the stage gave 

o'er; 
Morgan and Mandeville could prate no 

more; 
Norton, from Daniel and Ostroea sprung, 
Bless'd with his father's front and mother's 

tongue, 
Hung silent down his never-blushing head, 
And all was hush'd, as Folly's self lay 

dead. 
Thus the soft gifts of sleep conclude the 

day. 
And stretch'd on bulks, as usual Poets lay. 
Why should I sing what bards the nightly 

Muse 421 

Did slumb'ring visit, and convey to stews ? 
Who prouder march'd, with magistrates in 

state. 
To some famed roundhouse, ever-open 

gate ? 
How Henley lay inspired beside a sink. 
And to mere mortals seem'd a priest in 

drink, 
While others, timely, to the neighb'ring 

Fleet 
(Haunt of the Muses) made their safe re- 
treat ? 

BOOK III 

ARGUMENT 

After the other persons are disposed in their 
proper places of rest, the Goddess transports 
the King' to her Temple, and there lays him 
to slumber with his head on her lap ; a posi- 
tion of marvellous virtue, which causes all 
the visions of wild enthusiasts, projectors, 
politicians, inamoratos, castle-builders, chy- 
mists, and poets. He is immediately car- 
ried on the ^^ings of Fanpy, and led by a 
mad poetical Sibyl, to the Elysian shade ; 
where, on the banks of Lethe, the souls of 
the dull are dipped by Bavius, before 
their entrance into this world. There he 
ia met by the ghost of Settle, and by him 



THE DUNCIAD 



237 



made acquainted with the wonders of the 
place, and with those which he himself is 
destined to perform. He takes him to a 
Mount of Vision, from whence he shows him 
the past triumphs of the Empire of Dulness ; 
then, the present ; and, lastly, the future : 
how small a part of the world was ever con- ] 
quered by Science, how soon those conquests/ 
were stopped, and these very nations ag^ain- 
reduced to her dominion. Then distinguish- 
ing- the island of Great Britain, shows by 
what aids, by what persons, and by what de- 
g-rees, it shall be brought to her empire. 
Some of the persons he causes to pass in re- 
view before his eyes, describing each by his 
proper figure, character, and qualifications. 
On a sudden the scene shifts, and a vast num- 
ber of miracles and prodigies appear, utterly 
surprising and unknown to the King himself, 
till they are explained to be the wonders of 
his own reign now commencing. On this 
subject Settle breaks into a congratulation, 
yet not unmixed with concern, that his own 
times were but the types of these. He pro- 
phesies how first the nation shall be overrun 
with Farces, Operas, and Shows ; how the 
throne of Dulness shall be advanced over the 
Theatres, and set up even at Court ; then how 
her sons shall preside in the seats of Arts 
and Sciences ; giving- a glimpse, or Pisgah- 
sig-ht, of the future fulness of her glory, the 
accomplishment whereof is the subject of 
the fourth and last book. 

But in her temple's last recess inclosed, 
On Dulness' lap th' anointed head reposed. 
Him close she curtains round with vapours 

blue, 
And soft besprinkles with Cimmerian dew: 
Then raptures high the seat of Sense o'er- 

flow, 
Which only heads refin'd from Reason 

know. 
Hence from the straw where Bedlam's 

prophet nods. 
He hears loud oracles, and talks with 

Gods; 
Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's 

scheme. 
The air-built castle, and the golden dream. 
The maid's romantic wish, the chy mist's 

flame, n 

And poet's vision of eternal Fame. 

And now, on Fancy's easy wing convey'd, 
The king descending views th' Elysian 

shade. 
A slipshod Sibyl led his steps along. 
In lofty madness meditating song; 



Her tresses staring from poetic dreams. 
And never wash'd but in Castalia's streams. 
Taylor, their better Charon, lends an oar 
(Once swan of Thames, tho' now he sings 

no more) ; 20 

Benlowes, propitious still to blockheads, 

bows; 
And Shadwell nods, the poppy on his 

— " brows. 
Here in a dusky vale, where Lethe rolls, 
Old Bavins sits to dip poetic souls. 
And blunt the sense, and fit it for a skull 
Of solid proof, impenetrably dull. 
Instant, when dipt, away they wing their 

flight, 
Where Browne and Mears unbar the gates 

. of light, 
Demand new bodies, and in calf's array 
Rush to the world, impatient for the day. 
Millions and millions on these banks he 

views, 3 1 

Thick as the stars of night or morning 

dews. 
As thick as bees o'er vernal blossoms fly, 
As thick as eggs at Ward in pillory. 

Wond'ring he gazed: when, lo! a Sage 

appears, 
By his broad shoulders known, and length 

of ears, 
Known by the band and suit which Settle 

wore 
(His only suit) for twice three years be- 
fore : 
All as tlie vest, appear'd the wearer's frame. 
Old in new state — another, yet the same. 
Bland and familiar, as in life, begun 41 
Thus the great father to the greater son: 
* Oh! born to see what none can see 

awake. 
Behold the wonders of th' oblivious lake! 
Thou, yet unborn, hast touch'd this sacred 

shore; 
The hand of Bavius drench'd thee o'er and 

o'er. 
But blind to former as to future fate, 
What mortal knows his preexistent state ? 
Who knows how long thy transmigrating 

soul 
Might from Bceotian to Boeotian roll ? 50 
How many Dutchmen she vouchsafed to 

thrid ? 
How many stages thro' old monks she rid ? 
And all who since, in mild benighted days, 
Mix'd the Owl's ivy with the Poet's 

bays ? 



238 



THE DUNCIAD 



As man's nifeanders to the vital spring 
Roll all their tides, then back their circles 

bring; 
Or whirligigs, twirl'd round by skilful 

swain, 
Suck the thread in, then yield it out 

again ; 
All nonsense thus, of old or modern date. 
Shall in thee centre, from thee circulate. 60 
For this our Queen unfolds to vision true 
Thy mental eye, for thou hast much to 

view: 
Old scenes of glory, times long cast behind. 
Shall, first recall'd, rush forward to thy 

mind : 
Then stretch thy sight o'er all her rising 

reign. 
And let the past and future fire thy train. 

* Ascend this hill, whose cloudy point 

commands 
Her boundless empire over seas and lands. 
See, round the poles where keener spangles 

shine. 
Where spices smoke beneath the burning 

Line 70 

(Earth's wide extremes), her sable flag dis- 

play'd. 
And all the nations cover'd in her shade! 

* Far eastward cast thine eye, from 

whence the sun 

And orient Science their bright course be- 
gun: 

One godlike monarch all that pride con- 
founds. 

He whose long wall the wand'ring Tartar 
bounds : 

Heav'ns! w^hat a pile! whole ages perish 
there, 

And one bright blaze turns learning into 
air. 

* Thence to the south extend thy glad- 

den 'd eyes; 
There rival flames with equal glory rise; 80 
From shelves to shelves see greedy Vulcan 

roll, 
And lick up all their physic of the soul. 
'How little, mark! that portion of the 

ball. 
Where, faint at best, the beams of Science 

fall: 
Soon as they dawn, from hyperborean skies 
Embodied dark, what clouds of Vandals 

rise! 
Lo! where M?eotis sleeps, and hardly flows 
The freezing Tanais thro' a waste of snows, 



The North by myriads pours her mighty 

sons. 
Great nurse of Goths, of Alans, and of 

Huns! 90 

See Alaric's stern port! the martial frame 
Of Genseric! and Attila's dread name! 
See the bold Ostrogoths on Latium fall! 
See the fierce Visigoths on Spain and 

Gaul! 
See where the morning gilds the palmy 

shore 
(The soil that arts and infant letters bore). 
His conqu'ring tribes th' Arabian prophet 

draws, 
And saving Ignorance enthrones by laws! 
See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath 

keep. 
And all the western world believe and 

sleep! 100 

* Lo! Rome herself, proud mistress now 

no more 
Of arts, but thund'ring against heathen 

lore; 
Her gray-hair'd synods damning books un- 7 

read. 
And Bacon trembling for his brazen head. 
Padua, with sighs, beholds her Livy burn, 
And ev'n th' Antipodes Virgilius mourn. 
See the Cirque falls, th' uupillar'd Temple 

nods. 
Streets paved with Heroes, Tiber choked 

with Gods; 
Till Peter's keys some christen'd Jove 

adorn. 
And Pan to Moses lends his Pagan horn. 1 10 
See graceless Venus to a virgin turn'd. 
Or Phidias broken, and Apelles burn'd! 
' Behold yon isle, by Palmers, Pilgrims 

trod. 
Men bearded, bald, cowl'd, uncowl'd, shod, 

unshod, 
Peel'd, patch'd, and piebald, linsey-woolsey 

brothers. 
Grave Mummers! sleeveless some and 

shirtless others. 
That once was Britain — Happy! had she 

seen 
No fiercer sons, had Easter never been. 
In peace, great Goddess, ever be ador'd; 
How keen the war, if Dulness draw the> 

sword! 120 

Thus visit not thy own! on this bless'd 

age 
O spread thy influence, but restrain thy 

rage. 



THE DUNCIAD 



239 



* And see, my son! the hour is on its 

way 
That lifts our Goddess to imperial sway; 
This fav'rite isle, long sever'd from her 

reign, 
Dove-like, she gathers to her wings again. 
Now look thro' Fate! behold the scene she 

draws! 
What aids, what armies, to assert her 

cause! 
See all her progeny, illustrious sight! 
Behold, and count them, as they rise to 

light. 130 

As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie 
In homage to the mother of the sky, 
Surveys around her, in the bless'd abode, 
A hundred sons, and every son a God, 
Not with less glory mighty Duluess 

crown'd, 
Shall take thro' Grub-street her triumphant 

round, 
And her Parnassus glancing o'er at once. 
Behold a hundred sons, and each a Dunce. 

* Mark first that youth who takes the 

foremost place, 139 

And thrusts his person full into your face. 
With all thy father's virtues bless'd, be 

born ! 
And a new Gibber shall the stage adorn. 

* A second see, by meeker manners 

known. 

And modest as the maid that sips alone; 

From the strong fate of drams if thou get 
free, 

Another Durfey, Ward! shall sing in thee. 

Thee shall each alehouse, thee each gill- 
house mourn, 

And answering ginshops sourer sighs return. 

* Jacob, the scourge of grammar, mark 

with awe; 149 

Nor less revere him, blunderbuss of law. 
Lo Popple's brow, tremendous to the town, 
Horneck's fierce eye, and Roome's funereal 

frown. 
Lo sneering Goode, half malice and half 

whim, 
A fiend in glee, ridiculously grim. 
Each cygnet sweet, of Bath and Tunbridge 

race. 
Whose tuneful whistling makes the waters 

pass: 
Each songster, riddler, ev'ry nameless 

name, 
All crowd, who foremost shall be damn'd 

to Fame. 



Some strain in rhyme: the Muses, ou their 

racks, 
Scream like the winding of ten thousand 

jacks: 160 

Some free from rhyme or reason, rule or 

check. 
Break Priscian's head, and Pegasus's neck; 
Down, down they larum, with impetuous 

whirl. 
The Pindars and the Miltons of a Curll. 
' Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to 

Cynthia howls, 
And makes night hideous — Answer him, 

ye owls! 
* Sense, speech, and measure, living 

tongues and dead. 
Let all give way — and Morris may be 

read. 
Flow, Welsted, flow! like thine inspirer, 

beer, 
Tho' stale, not ripe, tho' thin, yet never 

clear; 170 

So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull; 
Heady, not strong; o'ertiowing, tho' not 

full. 
Ah, Dennis! Gildon, ah! what ill-starr'd s^ 

rage ? 

Divides a friendship long confirmed by 

age? 
Blockheads with reason wicked wits abhor, 
But fool with fool is barb'rous civil war. 
Embrace, embrace, my sons! be foes no 

more! 
Nor glad vile poets with true critics' gore. 
' Behold yon pair, in strict embraces 

join'd; 
How like in manners, and how like in 

mind! 180 

Equal in wit, and equally polite 
Shall this a Pasquin, that a Grumbler 

write ; 
Like are their merits, like rewards they 

share. 
That shines a Consul, this Commissioner.' 

' But who is he, in closet close y-pent. 
Of sober face, with learned dust besprent ? 
Right well mine eyes arede the myster 

wight. 
On parchment scraps y-fed and Wormius 

hight. 
To future ages may thy dulness last. 
As thou preserv'st the dulness of the past! 
' There, dim in clouds, the poring scho- 
liasts mark, 191 
Wits, who, like owls, see only in the dark, 



240 



THE DUNCIAD 



A lumberhouse of books in ev'ry head, 
For ever reading, never to be read! 
/ * But, where each science lifts its mod- 
' ern type, 

Hist'ry her pot. Divinity her pipe. 
While proud Philosophy repines to show. 
Dishonest sight! his breeches rent below, 
Imbrown'd with native bronze, lo! Henley 

st9,nds, 
Tuning'his voice, and balancing his hands. 
How fluent nonsense trickles from his 

tongue ! 201 

How sweet the periods, neither said nor 

sung! 
Still break the benches, Henley! with thy 

strain, 
While Sherlock, Hare, and Gibson preach 

in vain. 
O great restorer of the good old stage, 
Preacher at once, and Zany of thy age! 
O worthy thou of Egypt's wise abodes, 
A decent priest where monkeys were the 

gods! 
But fate with butchers placed thy priestly 

stall. 
Meek modern faith to murder, hack, and 

maul; 210 

And bade thee live, to crown Britannia's 

praise. 
In Toland's, Tindal's, and in Woolstou's 

days. 
'Yet, oh, my sons! a father's words 

attend 
(So may the Fates preserve the ears you 

lend): 
'T is yours a Bacon or a Locke to blame, 
A Newton's genius, or a Milton's flame: 
But, oh! with One, immortal One, dispense. 
The source of Newton's light, of Bacon's 

sense. 
Content, each emanation of his fires 
That beams on earth, each virtue he in- 
spires, 220 
Each art he prompts, each charm he can 

create, 
Whate'er he gives, are giv'n for you to hate. 
Persist, by all divine in man unawed. 
But learn, ye Dunces! not to scorn your 

God.' 
Thus he, for then a ray of Reason stole 
Half thro' the solid darkness of his soul; 
But soon the cloud return 'd — and thus the 

sire: 
* See now what Duluess and her sous ad- 
mire! 



See what the charms that smite the simple 

heart. 
Not touch'd by Nature, and not reach'd by 

art.' 230 

His never-blushing head he turn'd aside 
(Not half so pleas'd when Goodman pro- 
phesied). 
And look'd, and saw a sable sorcerer rise. 
Swift to whose hand a winged volume 

flies: 
All sudden, Gorgons hiss, and Dragons 

glare. 
And ten-horn'd Fiends and Giants rush to 

war; 
Hell rises, Heav'n descends, and dance on 

earth ; 
Gods, imps, and monsters, music, rage, and 

mirth, 
A fire, a jig, a battle, and a ball, 
Till one wide conflagration swallows all. 240 
Thence a new world, to Nature's laws 

unknown. 
Breaks out refulgent, with a Heav'n its 

own: 
Another Cynthia her new journey runs, 
And other planets circle other suns. 
The forests dance, the rivers upward rise. 
Whales sport in woods, and dolphins in the 

skies: 
And last, to give the whole creation grace, 
Lo! one vast ^^g produces human race. 

Joy fills his soul, joy innocent of thought: 
* What Power (he cries), what Power these 

wonders wrought ? ' 250 

*Son, what thou seek'st is in thee! look and 

-" find 
Each monster meets his likeness in thy 

mind. 
Yet would'st thou more ? in yonder cloud 

behold, 
Whose sarsenet skirts are edged with flamy 

gold, 
A matchless youth! his nod these worlds 

controls, 
Wings the red lightning, and the thunder 

rolls. 
Angel of Dulness, sent to scatter round 
Her magic charms o'er all uuclassic ground, 
Yon stars, yon suns, he rears at pleasure 

higher, 
Hlumes their light, and sets their flames on 

fire. 360 

Immortal Rich! how calm he sits at ease. 
Midst snows of paper, and fierce hail of 

pease! 



THE DUNCIAD 



241 



And proud his mistress' orders to perform, 
Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the 
storm. 

* But lo! to dark encounter in mid air 
New wizards rise; I see my Gibber there! 
Booth in his cloudy tabernacle shrined; 
On grinning dragons thou shalt mount the 

wind. 
Dire is the conflict, dismal is the din. 
Here shouts all Drury, there all Lincoln's- 

inn; 270 

Contending theatres our empire raise, 
Alike their labours, and alike their praise. 

* And are these wonders, Son, to thee 

unknown ? 
Unknown to thee! these wonders are thy 

own. 
These Fate reserv'd to grace thy reign 

divine. 
Foreseen by me, but ah! withheld from 

mine. 
In Lud's old walls tho' long I ruled re- 

nown'd. 
Far as loud Bow's stupendous bells resound; 
Tiio' my own aldermen conferr'd the bays, 
To me committing their eternal praise, 280 
Their full-fed heroes, their pacific mayors, 
Their annual trophies, and their monthly 

wars ; 
Tho' long my party built on me their 

hopes. 
For writing pamphlets, and for roasting 

Popes ; 
Yet lo! in me what authors have to brag 

on! 
Reduced at last to hiss in my own dragon. 
Avert it, Heav'n! that thou, my Gibber, 

e'er 
Shouldst wag a serpent-tail in Smithfield 

fair! 
Like the vile straw that 's blown about the 

streets, 
The needy poet sticks to all he meets, 290 
Coach'd, carted, trod upon, now loose, now 

fast. 
And carried off in some dog's tail at last. 
Happier thy fortunes! like a rolling stone, 
Thy giddy dulness still shall lumber on; 
Safe in its heaviness, shall never stray, 
But lick up every blockhead in the way. 
Thee shall the patriot, thee the courtier 

taste, 
And ev'ry year be duller than the last; 
Till raised from booths, to theatre, to Gourt, 
Her seat imperial Dulness shall transport. 



Already Opera prepares the way, 301 

The sure forerunner of her gentle sway : 
Let her thy heart (next Drabs and Dice) 

engage. 
The third mad passion of thy doting age. 
Teach thou the warbling Polypheme to roar, 
And scream thyself as none e'er scream'd 

before! 
To aid our cause, if Heav'n thou canst not 

bend, 
Hell thou shalt move; for Faustus is our 

friend: 
Pluto with Gato thou for this shalt join, 
And link the Mourning Bride to Proser- 
pine, 310 
Grub-street! thy fall should men and Gods 

conspire, 
Thy stage shall stand, insure it but from 

fire. 
Another iEschylus appears! prepare 
For new abortions, all ye pregnant fair! 
Li flames like Semele's, be brought to bed. 
While opening Hell spouts wildfire at your 

head. 
* Now, Bavius, take the poppy from thy 

brow, 
And place it here! here, all ye heroes, 

bow! 
This, this is he foretold by ancient rhymes, 
Th' Augustus born to bring Saturnian 

times. 320 

Signs foll'wing signs lead on the mighty 



See 



year! 



the dull stars roll round and reap- 
pear! 

See, see, our own true Phcebus wears the 
bays! 

Our Midas sits Lord Ghancellor of plays! 

On poets' tombs see Benson's titles writ! 

Lo! Ambrose Philips is preferr'd for wit! 

See under Ripley rise a new Whitehall, 

While Jones' and Boyle's united labours ~\ 
fall; ) 

While Wren with sorrow to the grave de- 
scends, 

Gay dies unpension'd with a hundred 
friends, 330 

Hibernian politics, O Swift! thy fate, 

And Pope's, ten years to comment and 
translate! 
'Proceed, great days! till learning fly 
the shore. 

Till birch shall blush with noble blood no 
more; 

Till Thames see Eton's sons for ever play, 



242 



THE DUNCIAD 



Till Westminster's whole year be holiday; 
Till Isis' elders reel, their pupils' sport, 
And Alma Mater lie dissolv'd in port! ' 
'Enough! enough!' the raptured mon- 
arch cries, 339 
And thro' the iv'ry gate the vision flies. 

BOOK IV 

ARGUMENT 

The poet being', in this book, to declare the 
Completion of the Prophecies mentioned at 
the end of the former, makes a new Invoca- 
tion; as the g-reater poets are wont, when 
some high and worthy matter is to be sung-. 
He shows the Goddess coming in her majesty 
to destroy Order and Science, and to substi- 
tute the Kingdom of the Dull upon earth : 
how she leads captive the Sciences, and^ si- 
lences the Muses ; and what they be who 
succeed in their stead. All her children, by 
a wonderful atteaction, are drawn about her ; 
and bear along with them divers others, who 
promote her empire by connivance, weak re- 
sistance, or discouragement of Arts ; such as 
Half-wits, tasteless Admirers, vain Pretend- 
ers, the Flatterers of Dunces, or the Patrons 
of them. All these crowd round her ; one of 
them offering to approach her, is driven back 
by a rival, but she commends and encourages 
both. The first who speak in form are the 
Geniuses of the Schools, who assure her of 
their care to advance her cause by confin- 
ing youth to words, and keeping them out of 
the way of real knowledge. Their address, 
and her gracious answer; with her charge 
to them and the Universities. The Universi- 
ties appear by their proper deputies, and as- 
sure her that the same method is observed in 
the progress of Education. The speech of 
Aristarchus on this subject. They are driven 
off by a band of young Gentlemen returned 
from travel with their tutors ; one of whom 
delivers to the Goddess, in a polite oration, 
an account of the whole conduct and fruits 
of their travels ; presenting to her at the 
same time a young Nobleman perfectly ac- 
complished. She receives him graciously, 
and endues him with the happy quality of 
Want of Shame. She sees loitering about 
her a number of indolent persons abandoning 
all business and duty, and dying with lazi- 
ness : to these approaches the antiquary 
Annins, entreating her to make them Vir- 
tuosos, and assign them over to him ; but 
Mummius, another antiquary, complaining 
of his fraudulent proceeding, she finds a 
method to reconcile their difference. Then 
enter a troop of people fantastically adorned, 



offering her strange and exotic Presents : 
among them, one stands forth, and demands 
justice on another who had deprived him of 
one of the greatest curiosities in Nature ; but 
be justifies himself so well, that the Goddess 
gives them both her approbation. She re- 
commends to them to find proper employ- 
ment for the Indolents before mentioned, in 
the study of Butterflies, Shells, Birds-nests, 
Moss, &c., but with particular caution not to 
proceed beyond trifles, to any useful or ex- 
tensive views of Nature, or of the Author of 
Nature. Against the last of these apprehen- 
sions, she is secured by a hearty address from 
the Minute Philosophers and Freethinkers, 
one of whom speaks in the name of the rest. 
The Youth thus instructed and principled, 
are delivered to her in a body, by the hands 
of Silenus ; and then admitted to taste the 
cup of the Magus, her high priest, which 
causes a total oblivion of all Obligations, di- 
vine, civil, moral, or rational. To these her 
adepts she sends Priests, Attendants, and 
Comforters, of various kinds ; confers on 
them Orders and Degrees ; and then dismiss- 
ing them with a speech, confirming to each 
his privileges, and telling what she expects 
from each, concludes with a Yawn of extra- 
ordinary virtue : the Progress and Effects 
whereof on all orders of men, and the Con- 
sunmiation of all, in the restoration of Night 
and Chaos, conclude the Poem. 

Yet, yet a moment, one dim ray of light 
Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night! ^^ 
Of darkness^ visible so much be lent, ''^-■■'^" 
AsTialf to show, half veil the deep intent. 
Ye Powers! Whose mysteries restor'd I 

sing, 
To whom Time bears me on his rapid 

wing. 
Suspend a while your force inertly strong, 
Then take at once the Poet and the Song. 
Now flamed the Dogstar's unpropitious 

ray, 9 

Smote ev'ry brain, and wither'd ev*ry bay; 
Sick was the sun, the owl forsook his 

bower, 
The moon-struck prophet felt the madding 

hour: 
Then rose the seed of Chaos, and of Night, 
To blot out Order, and extinguish Light, 
Of dull and venal a new world to mould. 
And bring Saturnian days of Lead and 

Gold. 
She mounts the Throne: her head a cloud 

conceal' d. 
In broad effulgence all below reveai'd 



THE DUNCIAD 



243 



('T is thus aspiring Dulness ever shines) ; 19 
Soft on her lap her Laureate Son reclines: 
Beneath her footstool Science groans in 
\ chains, 

\And Wit dreads exile, penalties, and pains. 
There foam'd rebellious Logic, gagg'd and 

bound; 
There, stript, fair Rhetoric languish'd on 

the ground; 
His blunted arms by Sophistry are borne, 
And shameless Billingsgate her robes adorn. 
Morality, by her false guardians drawn. 
Chicane in furs, and Casuistry in lawn. 
Gasps, as they straiten at each end the 

cord. 
And dies when Dulness gives her Page the 
word. 30 

Mad Mathesis alone was unconfin'd, 
Too mad for mere material chains to bind. 
Now to pure Space lifts her ecstatic stare. 
Now running round the Circle, finds it 

square. 
But held in tenfold bonds the Muses lie, 
Watch'd both by envy's and by flatt'ry's 

eye. 
There to her heart sad Tragedy addrest 
The dagger, wont to pierce the Tyrant's 

breast; 
But sober History restrain' d her rage. 
And promis'd vengeance on a barb'rous 
age. 40 

There sunk Thalia, nerveless, cold, and 

dead. 
Had not her sister Satire held her head: 
Nor couldst thou, Chesterfield! a tear re- 
fuse. 
Thou wept'st, and with thee wept each* gen- 
tle Muse. 
When lo! a harlot form soft sliding by. 
With mincing step, small voice, and lan- 
guid eye: 
Foreign her air, her robe's discordant pride 
In patchwork flutt'ring, and her head 

aside ; 
By singing peers upheld on either hand. 
She tripp'd and laugh'd, too pretty much to 
stand ; 50 

Cast on the prostrate Nine a scornful look, 
Then thus in quaint recitative spoke: 

' cava ! cava ! silence all that train! 
Joy to great Chaos! let Division reign! 
Chromatic tortures soon shall drive them 

hence, 
Break all their nerves, and fritter all their 
sense: 



One Trill shall harmonize joy, grief, and 

rage, 
Wake the dull Church, and lull the ranting 

Stage ; 
To the same notes thy sons shall hum, or 

snore, 59 

And all thy yawning daughters cry encore. 
Another Phcebus, thy own Phcebus, reigns, 
Joys in my jigs, and dances in my chains. 
But soon, ah, soon, rebellion will com- 
mence. 
If Music meanly borrows aid from Sense: 
Strong in new arms, lo! giant Handel 

stands. 
Like bold Briareus, with a hundred hands; 
To stir, to rouse, to shake the soul he 

comes. 
And Jove's own thunders follow Mars's 

drums. 
Arrest him. Empress, or you sleep no 

more ' 

She heard, and drove him to th' Hibernian 

shore. 70 

And now had Fame's posterior trumpet 

blown, 
And all the nations summon'd to the 

Throne: 
The young, the old, who feel her inward 

sway. 
One instinct seizes, and transports away. 
None need a guide, by sure attraction led. 
And strong impulsive gravity of head: 
None want a place, for all their centre 

found, 
Hung to the Goddess, and cohered around. 
Not closer, orb in orb, conglobed are seen 
The buzzing bees about their dusky 

queen. 80 

The gath'ring number, as it moves 

along, 
Involves a vast involuntary throng, 
Who gently drawn, and struggling less and 

less. 
Roll in her vortex, and her power confess. 
Not those alone who passive own her laws, 
But who, weak rebels, more advance her 

cause : 
Whate'er of Dunce in College or in Town 
Sneers at another, in toupee or gown; 
Whate'er of mongrel no one class admits, 
A Wit with Dunces, and a Dunce with 

Wits. 90 

Nor absent they, no members of her state, 
Who pay her homage in her sons, the 

Great; 



244 



THE DUNCIAD 



Who, false to Phcebus, bow the knee to 

Baal, 
Or impious, preach his word without a call: 
Patrons, who sneak from living worth to 

dead, 
Withhold the pension, and set up the head; 
Or vast dull Flatt'ry in the sacred gown, 
Or give from fool to fool the laurel crown; 
And (last and worst) with all the cant of 

wit, 99 

Without the soul, the Muse's hypocrite. 
There march'd the Bard and Blockhead 

side by side. 
Who rhymed for hire, and patronized for 

pride. 
Narcissus, prais'd with all a parson's power, 
Look'd a white lily sunk beneath a shower. 
There moved Montalto with superior air; 
His stretch'dout arm display 'd a volume 

fair; 
Courtiers and Patriots in two ranks divide. 
Thro' both he pass'd, and bow'd from 

side to side; 
But as in graceful act, with awful eye, 
Composed he stood, bold Benson thrust 

him by: no 

On two unequal crutches propt he came, 
Milton's on this, on that one Johnston's 

name. 
The decent knight retired with sober rage. 
Withdrew his hand, and closed the pom- 
pous page: 
But (happy for him as the times went 

then) 
Appear'd Apollo's mayor and aldermen, 
On whom three hundred gold-capp'd youths 

await. 
To lug the pond'rous volume off in state. 
When Dulness, smiling — 'Thus revive 

the Wits! 
But murder first, and mince them all to 

bits; I 20 

As erst Medea (cruel, so to save!) 
A new edition of old ^son gave; 
Let standard authors thus, like trophies 

borne, 
Appear more glorious as more hack'd and 

torn. 
And you, my Critics! in the chequer'd 

shade. 
Admire new light thro' holes yourselves 

have made. 
Leave not a foot of verse, a foot of stone, 
A page, a grave, that they can call their 

own; 



But spread, my sons, your glory thin or 

thick, 
On passive paper, or on solid brick. 130 

So by each Bard an Alderman shall sit, 
A heavy Lord shall hang at every Wit, 
And while on Fame's triumphal car they 

ride. 
Some slave of mine be pinion'd to their 

side.' 
Now crowds on crowds around the God- 
dess press. 
Each eager to present the first address. 
Dunce scorning Dunce beholds the next 

advance. 
But Fop shows Fop superior complaisance. 
When lo! a spectre rose, whose index hand 
Held forth the virtue of the dreadful wand; 
His beaver'd brow a birchen garland 

wears, 141 

Dropping with infants' blood and mothers' 

tears. 
O'er ev'ry vein a shudd'ring horror runs, 
Eton and Winton shake tbro' all their 

sons. 
All flesh is humbled, Westminster 's bold 

race 
Shrink, and confess the Genius of the 

place: 
The pale boy-senator yet tingling stands. 
And holds his breeches close with both his 

hands. 
Then thus: 'Since man from beast by 

words is known. 
Words are man's province, words we teach 

alone. 150 

When reason doubtful, like the Samian 

* letter. 
Points him two ways, the narrower is the 

better. 
Placed at the door of learnings-youth. to 

guide, ] 
We never suffer it to stand too wide. 
To ask, to guess, to know, as they com- 
mence, 
As Fancy opens the quick springs of Sense, 
We ply the Memory, we load the Brain, 
Bind rebel wit, and double chain on chain, 
Confine the thought, to exercise the breath. 
And keep them in the pale of words till 

death. 160 

Whate'er the talents, or howe'er design'd. 
We hang one jingling padlock on the 

mind: 
A poet the first day he dips his quill; 
And what the last ? a very poet still. 



THE DUNCIAD 



245 



Pity! the charm works only in our wall, 
Lost, lost too soon in yonder house or hall. 
There truant Wyudham ev'ry Muse gave 

o'er, 
There Talbot sunk, and was a Wit no more ! 
How sweet an Ovid, Murray was our 

boast ! 
How many Martials were in Pulteney lost ! 
Else sure some bard, to our eternal praise. 
In twice ten thousand rhyming nights and 

days, 172 

Had reaeh'd the work, the all that mortal 

can. 
And South beheld that masterpiece of man. 
* O (cried the Goddess) for some pedant 

reign ! 
Some gentle James, to bless the land again: 
To stick the doctor's chair into the throne. 
Give law to words, or war with words 

alone, 
Senates and Courts with Greek and Latin 

rule. 
And turn the Council to a grammar school ! 
For sure if Dulness sees a grateful day, 181 
'T is in the shade of arbitrary sway. 
O ! if my sons may learn one earthly thing. 
Teach but that one, sufficient for a King; 
That which my priests, and mine alone, 

maintain, 
Which, as it dies, or lives, we fall, or reign: 
May you, may Cam, and Isis, preach it 

long ! 
* " The right divine of Kings to govern 

wrong." ' 
Prompt at the call, around the Goddess 

roll 
Broad hats, and hoods, and caps, a sable 

shoal: 190 

Thick and more thick the black blockade 

extends, 
A hundred head of Aristotle's friends. 
Nor wert thou, Isis ! wanting to the day 
(Tho' Christ Church long kept prudishly 

away) : 
Each stanch polemic, stubborn as a rock. 
Each fierce logician, still expelling Locke, 
Came whip and spur, and dash'd thro' thin 

and thick, 
On German Crousaz, and Dutch Burgers- 

dyck. 
As many quit the streams that murmuring 

fall 
To lull the sons of Marg'ret and Clare Hall, 
Where Bentley late tempestuous wont to 

sport 20I 



In troubled waters, but now sleeps in port. 
Before them march'd that awful Aristarch; 
Plough'd was his front with many a deep 

remark; 
His hat, which never veil'd to human pride, 
Walker with rev'rence took, and laid aside. 
Low bow'd the rest; he, kingly, did but nod ; 
So upright Quakers please both man and 

God. 

* Mistress ! dismiss that rabble from your 

throne ; 
Avaunt — is Aristarchus yet unknown ? 210 
Thy mighty scholiast, whose unwearied 

pains 
Made Horace dull, and humbled Milton's 

strains. 
Turn what they will to verse, their toil is 

vain. 
Critics like me shall make it prose again. 
Roman and Greek grammarians ! know 3'our 

better; 
Author of something yet more great than 

letter; 
While tow'ring o'er your alphabet, like 

Saul, 
Stands our Digamma, and o'ertops them 

all. 
'T is true, on words is still our whole debate. 
Disputes of me or te, of aut or at^ 220 

To sound or sink in cano, O or A, 
Or give up Cicero to C or K. 
Let Friend affect to speak as Terence 

spoke, 
And Alsop never but like Horace joke: 
For me what Virgil, Pliny, may deny, 
Manilius or Solinus shall supply: 
For Attic phrase in Plato let them seek, 
I poach in Suidas for unlicens'd Greek. 
In ancient sense if any needs will deal, 
Be sure I give them fragments, not a meal; 
What Gellius or Stobaeus hash'd before, 231 
Or chew'd by blind old scholiasts o'er and 

o'er. 
The critic eye, that microscope of wit. 
Sees hairs and pores, examines bit by bit. 
How parts relate to parts, or they to whole, 
The Body's harmony, the beaming Soul, 
Are things which Kuster, Burman, Wasse 

shall see; 
When man's whole frame is obvious to a 

flea. 

* Ah, think not. Mistress ! more true dul- 

ness lies 
In Folly's cap, than Wisdom's grave dis- 
guise. 240 



246 



THE DUNCIAD 



Like buoys, that never sink into the flood, 
On learning's surface we but lie and nod. 
Thine is the genuine head of many a house, 
And much divinity without a vovs. 
Nor could a Barrow work on ev'ry block. 
Nor has one Atterbury spoil'd the flock ! 
See ! still thy own, the heavy Canon roll, 
And metaphysic smokes involve the pole. 
For thee we dim the eyes, and stuff the head 
With all such reading as was never read: 
For thee explain a thing till all men doubt 

it, 251 

And write about it, Goddess, and about it: 
So spins the silkworm small its slender store, 
And labours till it clouds itself all o'er. 
' What tho' we let some better sort of fool 
Thrid ev'ry science, run thro' ev'ry school ? 
Never by tumbler thro' the hoops was 

shown 
Such skill in passing all, and touching none. 
He may indeed (if sober all this time) 
Plague with Dispute, or persecute with 

Rhyme. 260 

We only furnish what he cannot use, 
Or, wed to what he must divorce, a Muse: 
Full in the midst of Euclid dip at once. 
And petrify a Genius to a Dunce: 
Or, set on metaphysic ground to prance. 
Show all his paces, not a step advance. 
With the same cement, ever sure to bind, 
We bring to one dead level ev'ry mind : 
Then take him to develop, if you can. 
And hew the Block off, and get out the 

Man. 270 

But wherefore waste I words ? I see ad- 
vance 
Whore, pupil, and laced governor from 

France. 
Walker ! our hat ! ' nor more he 

deigu'd to say. 
But stern as Ajax' spectre strode away. 

In flow'd at once a gay embroider'd race. 
And titt'ring push'd the pedants off the 

place: 
Some would have spoken, but the voice was 

drown'd 
By the French horn or by the opening 

hound. 
The first came forwards with as easy mien, 
As if he saw St. James's and the Queen. 
When thus th' attendant orator begun: 281 
* Receive, great Empress ! thy accomplish'd 

son; 
Thine from the birth, and sacred from the 

rod, 



A dauntless infant ! never scared with God. 
The sire saw, one by one, his Virtues wake; 
The mother begg'd the blessing of a Rake. 
Thou gavest that ripeness, which so soon 

began. 
And ceas'd so soon, he ne'er was boy nor 

man. 
Thro' school and college, thy kind cloud 

o'ercast, 
Safe and unseen the young ^Eneas past: 290 
Thence bursting glorious, all at once let 

down, 
Stunn'd with his giddy larum half the town. 
Intrepid then, o'er seas and lands he flew; 
Europe he saw, and Europe saw him too. 
There all thy gifts and graces we display. 
Thou, only thou, directing all our way ! 
To where the Seine, obsequious as she runs, 
Pours at great Bourbon's feet her silken 

sons ; 
Or Tyber, now no longer Roman, rolls, 
Vain of Italian arts, Italian souls: 300 

To happy convents, bosom'd deep in vines. 
Where slumber abbots, purple as their 

wines: 
To isles of fragrance, lily-silver'd vales. 
Diffusing languor in the panting gales: 
To lands of singing, or of dancing, slaves, 
Love-whisp'ring woods, and lute-resound- 
ing w^aves. 
But chief her shrine where naked Venus 

keeps. 
And Cupids ride the lion of the deeps; 
Where, eas'd of fleets, the Adriatic main 
Wafts the smooth eunuch and enamour'd 

swain. 310 

Led by my hand, he saunter'd Europe round. 
And gather'd ev'ry vice on Christian ground; 
Saw every Court, heard every King declare 
His royal sense of Op'ras or the Fair; 
The Stews and Palace equally explored. 
Intrigued with glory, and with spirit 

whored; 
Tried all hors-d'oeuvres, all liqueurs defined. 
Judicious drank, and greatly daring dined; 
Dropp'd the dull lumber of the Latin store, 
Spoil'd his own language, and acquired no 

more; 320 

All classic learning lost on classic ground; 
And last — turn'd Air, the Echo of a 

Sound! 
See now, half-cured, and perfectly well- 
bred. 
With nothing but a solo in his head; 
As much estate, and principle, and wit, 



THE DUNCIAD 



247 



As Jansen, Fleetwood, Gibber shall think fit; 
Stol'n from a Duel, follow'd by a Nun, 
And, if a borough choose him not, undone; 
See, to my country happy I restore 
This glorious youth, and add one Venus 

more. 330 

Her too receive (for her my soul adores) ; 
So may the sons of sons of sons of whores 
Prop thine, O Empress ! like each neigh- 
bour Throne, 
And make a long posterity th}' own,' 
Pleas'd, she accepts the Hero and the 

Dame, 
Wraps in her veil, and frees from sense of 

shame: 
Then look'd, and saw a lazy lolling sort, 
Unseen at Church, at Senate, or at Court, 
Of ever listless loit'rers, that attend 339 
No cause, no trust, no duty, and no friend. 
Thee, too, my Paridell! she mark'd thee 

there, 
Stretch'd on the rack of a too easy chair, 
And heard thy everlasting yawn confess 
The pains and penalties of Idleness. 
She pitied ! but her pity only shed 
Benigner influence on thy nodding head. 

But Annius, crafty seer, with ebon wand, 
And well-dissembled em'rald on his hand. 
False as his gems, and canker'd as his coins. 
Came, cramm'd with capon, from where 

PoUio dines. 350 

Soft, as the wily fox is seen to creep. 
Where bask on sunny banks the simple 

sheep. 
Walk round and round, now prying here, 

now there, 
So he, but pious, whisper'd first his prayer: 
'Grant, gracious Goddess! grant me still 

to cheat! 
O may thy cloud still cover the deceit ! 
Thy choicer mists on this assembly shed. 
But pour them thickest on the noble head. 
So shall each youth, assisted by our eyes, 
See other Csesars, other Homers rise; 360 
Thro' twilight ages hunt th' Athenian fowl, 
Which Chalcis, Gods, and Mortals call an 

owl; 
Now see an Attys, now a Cecrops clear, 
Nay, Mahomet! the pigeon at thine ear; 
Be rich in ancient brass, tho' not in gold, 
And keep his Lares, tho' his House be sold; 
To heedless Phcebe his fair bride postpone, 
Honour a Syrian prince above his own ; 
Lord of an Otho, if I vouch it true; 
Bless'd in one Niger, till he knows of two.* 



Mummius o'erheard him; Mummius, 

fool renown'd, 371 

Who, like his Cheops, stinks above the 

ground, 
Fierce as a startled adder, swell'd and 

said, 
Rattling an ancient Sistrum at his head : 
' Speak'st thou of Syrian Princes ? trai- 
tor base! 
Mine, Goddess! mine is all the horned race. 
True, he had wit to make their value rise; 
From foolish Greeks to steal them was as 

wise; 
More glorious yet, from barb'rous hands to 

keep, 379 

When Sallee rovers chased him on the deep. 
Then taught by Hermes, and divinely bold, 
Down his own throat he risk'd the Grecian 

gold, 
Receiv'd each demigod, with pious care. 
Deep in his entrails — I revered them there, 
I bought them, shrouded in that living 

shrine. 
And, at their second birth, they issue mine.' 
* Witness, great Ammon ! by whose horns 

I swore 
(Replied soft Annius), this our paunch be- 
fore 
Still bears them, faithful; and that thus I 

eat. 
Is to refund the Medals with the Meat. 390 
To prove me. Goddess! clear of all design. 
Bid me with Pollio sup as well as dine: 
There all the learn'd shall at the labour 

stand, 
And Douglas lend his soft obstetric hand.' 
The Goddess, smiling, seem'd to give 

consent; 
So back to Pollio hand in hand they went. 
Then thick as locusts black'ning all the 

ground, 
A tribe with weeds and shells fantastic 

crown'd, 
Each with some wondrous gift approach'd 

the Power, 
A nest, a toad, a fungus, or a flower. 400 
By far the foremost two, with earnest zeal 
And aspect ardent, to the throne appeal. 
The first thus opeu'd: * Hear thy suppliant's 

call. 
Great Queen, and common Mother of us all! 
Fair from its humble bed I rear'd this 

flower, 
Suckled, and cheer'd, with air, and sun, 

and shower. 



248 



THE DUNCIAD 



Soft on the paper ruff its leaves I spread, 
Bright with the gilded button tipp'd its head, 
Then throned in glass, and named it Caro- 
line. 
Each maid cried, " Charming! " and each 
youth, " Divine! " 410 

Did Nature's pencil ever blend such rays. 
Such varied light in one promiscuous blaze ? 
Now prostrate! dead! behold that Caroline : 
No maid cries, " Charming! " and no youth, 

"Divine!" 
And lo, the wretch! whose vile, whose in- 
sect lust 
Laid this gay daughter of the spring in dust. 

punish him, or to th' Elysian shades 
Dismiss my soul, where no Carnation fades.' 
He ceas'd, and wept. With innocence of 

mien 
Th' accused stood forth, and thus address'd 

the Queen: 420 

* Of all th' enamell'd race, whose silv'ry 

wing 
Waves to the tepid zephyrs of the spring. 
Or swims along the fluid atmosphere, 
Once brightest shined this child of Heat 

and Air. 

1 saw, and started from its vernal bower 
The rising game, and chased from flower 

to flower. 
It fled, I follow'd; now in hope, now pain; 
It stopt, I stopt; it mov'd, I mov'd again. 
At last it fix'd, 't was on what plantit pleas'd, 
And where it fix'd the beauteous bird I 

seiz'd: 430 

Rose or Carnation was below my care; 
I meddle. Goddess! only in my sphere. 
I tell the naked fact without disguise. 
And, to excuse it, need but show the prize; 
Whose spoils this paper offers to your eye, 
Fair ev'n in death, this peerless butterfly! ' 
' My sons! (she answer'd) both have 

done your parts: 
Live happy both, and longpromote our Arts. 
But hear a mother when she recommends 
To your fraternal care our sleeping friends. 
The common soul, of Heav'n's more frugal 

make, 441 

Serves but to keep Fools pert, and Knaves 

awake ; 
A drowsy watchman, that just gives a knock. 
And breaks our rest, to tell us what 's o'clock. 
Yet by some object ev'ry brain is stirr'd; 
The dull may waken to a Humming-bird ; 
The most recluse, discreetly open'd, find 
Congenial matter in the Cockle kind; 



The mind, in metaphysics at a loss. 
May wander in a wilderness of Moss; 450 
The head that turns at superlunar things 
Pois'd. with a tail, may steer on Wilkins' 

wings. 
'O! would the sons of men once think 

their eyes 
And Reason giv'n them but to study flies! 
See Nature in some partial narrow shape. 
And let the Author of the whole escape: 
Learn but to trifle ; or, who most observe, 
To wonder at their Maker, not to serve! ' 

* Be that my task (replies a gloomy Clerk, 
Sworn foe to myst'ry, yet divinely dark; 460 
Whose pious hope aspires to see the day 
When moral evidence shall quite decay, 
And damns implicit faith, and holy lies ; 
Prompt to impose, and fond to dogmatize): 
Let others creep by timid steps, and slow, 
On plain Experience lay foundations low, 
By common sense to common knowledge 

bred. 
And last, to Nature's Cause thro' Nature 

led. 
All-seeing in thy mists, we want no guide, 
Mother of Arrogance, and source of pride! 
We nobly take the high priori road, 471 

And reason downward, till we doubt of God: 
Make Nature still encroach upon his plan. 
And shove him off as far as e'er we can: 
Thrust some Mechanic Cause into his place, 
Or bind in Matter, or diffuse in Space: 
Or, at one bound o'erleaping all his laws, 
Make God man's image; man, the final 

Cause; 
Find Virtue local, all Relation scorn, 
See all in self, and but for self be born: 480 
Of nought so certain as our Reason still. 
Of nought so doubtful as of Soul and Will. 
O hide the God still more ! and make us see 
Such as Lucretius drew, a God like thee: 
Wrapt up in self, a God without a thought. 
Regardless of our merit or default. 
Or that bright image to our fancy draw, 
Which Theocles in raptured vision saw, 
While thro' poetic scenes the Genius roves. 
Or wanders wild in academic groves; 490 
That Nature our society adores. 
Where Tindal dictates, and Silenus snores ! ' 
Rous'd at his name, up rose the bousy 

Sire, 
And shook from out his pipe the seeds of 

fire; 
Then snapt his box, and stroked his belly 

down; 



THE DUNCIAD 



249 



Rosy aud rev'rend, tho' without a gown. 
Bland and familiar to the Throne he came, 
Led up the youth, and call'd the Goddess 

Dame; 
Then thus: 'From priestcraft happily set 

free, 
Lo ! every fiuish'd son returns to thee: 500 
First slave to Words, then vassal to a 

Name, 
Then dupe to Party; child and man the 

same ; 
Bounded by Nature, narrow'd still by Art, 
A trifling head, and a contracted heart. 
Thus bred, thus taught, how many have I 

seen, 
Smiling on all, and smil'd on by a Queen ! 
Mark'd out for honours, honour'd for their 

birth. 
To thee the most rebellious things on 

earth : 508 

Now to thy gentle shadow all are shrunk. 
All melted down in Pension or in Punk ! 
So K[ent] so B * * sneak'd into the grave, 
A monarch's half, and half a harlot's slave. 
Poor W[hartonJ nipt in Folly's broadest 

bloom. 
Who praises now ? his chaplain on his tomb. 
Then take them all, O take them to thy 

breast ! 
Thy Magus, Goddess ! shall perform the 

rest.' 
With that a wizard old his Cup extends. 
Which whoso tastes, forgets his former 

Friends, 
Sire, Ancestors', Himself. One casts his eyes 
Up to a star, and like Endymion dies: 520 
A feather, shooting from another's head. 
Extracts his brain, and Principle is fled; 
Lost is his God, his Country, everything, 
And nothing left but homage to a King ! 
The vulgar herd turn off to roll with hogs. 
To run with horses, or to hunt with dogs; 
But, sad example ! never to escape 
Their infamy, still keep the human shape. 
But she, good Goddess, sent to every 

child 
Firm Impudence, or Stupefaction mild ; 530 
And straight succeeded, leaving shame no 

room, 
Cibberian forehead, or Cimmerian gloom. 
Kind Self-conceit to some her glass ap- 
plies, 
Which no one looks in with another's eyes: 
But as the Flatt'rer or Dependant paint, 
Beholds himself a Patriot, Chief, or Saint. 



On others Int'rest her gay liv'ry flings, 
Int'rest, that waves on party - colour'd 

wings: 
Turn'd to the sun, she casts a thousand 

dyes, 539 

And, as she turns, the colours fall or rise. 
Others the Syren Sisters warble round. 
And empty heads console with empty 

sound. 
No more, alas ! the voice of Fame they 

hear, 
The balm of Dulness trickling in their ear. 
Great C **, H **, P **, R**, K* 
Why all your toils ? your sons have learn'd 

to sing. 
How quick Ambition hastes to Ridicule: 
Tlie sire is made a Peer, the son a Fool. 
On some, a priest succinct in amice 

white 549 

Attends; all flesh is nothing in his sight ! 
Beeves, at his touch, at once to jelly turn, 
And the huge boar is shrunk into an urn: 
The board with specious Miracles he loads, 
Turns hares to larks, and pigeons into 

toads. 
Another (for in all what one can shine ?) 
Explains the seve and verdeur of the Vine. 
What cannot copious sacrifice atone ? 
Thy truffles, P^rigord, thy hams, Bayonne, 
With French libation, and Italian strain. 
Wash Bladen white, and expiate Hays's 

stain, 560 

Knight lifts the head; for, what are crowds 

undone. 
To three essential partridges in one ? 
Gone ev'ry blush, and silent all reproach. 
Contending Princes mount them in their 

coach. 
Next bidding all draw near on bended 

knees. 
The Queen confers her Titles and Degrees. 
Her children first of more distinguish'd 

sort. 
Who study Shakespeare at the Inns of 

Court, 
Impale a glow-worm, or Vertu profess. 
Shine in the dignity of F. R. S. 570 

Some, deep Freemasons, join the silent race, 
Worthy to fill Pythagoras's place: 
Some Botanists, or florists at the least. 
Or issue members of an annual feast. 
Nor past the meanest unregarded; one 
Rose a Gregorian, one a Gormogon. 
The last, not least in honour or applause, 
Isis aud Cam made Doctors of her Laws. 



250 



THE DUNCIAD 



Then, blessing all, *Go children of my 

care ! 
To practice now from theory repair. 580 
All my commands are easy, short and full: 
My sons ! be proud, be selfish, and be dxill. 
Guard my Prerogative, assert my Throne: 
This nod confirms each privilege your own. 
The cap and switch be sacred to His Grace; 
With staff and pumps the Marquis leads 

the race; 
From stage to stage the licensed Earl may 

run, 
Pair'd with his fellow charioteer, the sun; 
The learned Baron butterflies design. 
Or draw to silk Arachne's subtle line ; 590 
The Judge to dance his brother sergeant 

call; 
The Senator at cricket urge the ball: 
The Bishop stow (pontific luxury !) 
A hundred souls of turkeys in a pie; 
The sturdy Squire to Gallic masters stoop, 
And drown his lands and manors in a soup. 
Others import yet nobler arts from France, 
Teach Kings to fiddle, and make Senates 

dance. 
Perhaps more high some daring son may 

soar, ^ 599 

Proud to my list to add one monarch more; 
And nobly-conscious. Princes are but things 
Born for first Ministers, as slaves for Kings, 
Tyrant supreme ! shall three estates com- 
mand, 
And make one mighty Dunciad of the land!' 
More she had spoke, but yawu'd — All 

nature nods: 
What mortal can resist the yawn of Gods ? 
Churches and chapels instantly it reach'd 
(St. James's first, for leaden Gilbert 

preach'd); 
Then catch'd the Schools; the Hall scarce 

kept awake; 
The Convocation gaped, but could not 

speak. 610 

Lost was the Nation's sense, nor could be 

found. 
While the long solemn unison went round: 
Wide, and more wide, it spread o'er all the 

realm; 
Ev'n Palinurus nodded at the helm: 
The vapour mild o'er each committee crept; 



Unfinish'd treaties in each office slept; 

And chiefless armies dozed out the cam- 
paign; 

And navies yawn'd for orders on the main. 
O Muse! relate (for you can tell alone. 

Wits have short memories, and Dunces 
none), 620 

Relate who first, who last, resign'd to rest; 

Whose heads she partly, whose completely 
blest; 

W^hat charms could Faction, what Ambition 
lull, 

The venal quiet, and entrance the dull. 

Till drown 'd was Sense, and Shame, and 
Right, and Wrong; \ 

O sing, and hush the nations with thy song! / 

In vain, in vain — the all-composing hour 
Resistless falls; the Muse obeys the power. 
She comes! she comes! the sable throne 

behold 
Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old! 630 
Before her Fancy's gilded clouds decay, 
And all its varying rainbows die away. 
Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires. 
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. 
As one by one, at dread Medea's strain. 
The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal 

plain ; 
As Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand opprest. 
Closed one by one to everlasting rest; 
Thus at her felt approach, and secret might. 
Art after Art goes out, and all is night. 640 
See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled, 
Mountains of casuistry heap'd o'er her head! 
Philosophy, that lean'd on Heaven before. 
Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more. 
Physic of Metaphysic begs defence, 
And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense! 
See Mystery to Mathematics fly! 
In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die. 
Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires, 
And unawares Morality expires. 650 

Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine ; 
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine! 
Lo! thy dread empire. Chaos! is restor'd; 
Light dies before thy uncreating word: 
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain 

fall; 
And universal Darkness buries all. 






J^' 






t 



THE ILIAD 



251 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



THE ILIAD 



Pope began the actual work of translating' 
The Iliad in 1714. Swift not only strongly 
urged him to undertake the task, but by per- 
sonal exertions secured for him a very large 



and distinguished list of subscribers. The first 
four books were published in 1715, and the 
succeeding books in 1717, 171S and 1720. 



POPE'S PREFACE 

Homer is universally allowed to have had 
the greatest Invention of any writer whatever. 
The praise of judgment Virgil has justly con- 
tested with him, and others may have their 
pretensions as to particular excellencies ; but 
his invention remains yet unrivalled. Nor is 
it a wonder if he has ever been acknowledged 
the greatest of poets, who most excelled in that 
which is the very foundation of poetry. It is 
the invention that in different degrees distin- 
guishes all great geniuses : the utmost stretch 
of human study, learning, and industry, which 
masters everything besides, can never attain to 
this. It furnishes Art with all her materials, 
and without it, judgment itself can at best but 
steal wisely : for Art is only like a prudent 
steward, that lives on managing the riches of 
Nature. Whatever praises may be given to 
works of judgment, there is not even a single 
beauty in them but is owing to the invention : 
as in the most regular gardens, however Art 
may carry the greatest appearance, there is not 
a plant or flower but is the gift of Nature. 
The first can only reduce the beauties of tbe 
latter into a more obvious figure, which the 
common eye may better take in, and is there- 
fore more entertained with them. And per- 
haps the reasou why most critics are inclined 
to prefer a judicious and methodical genius to 
a great and fruitful one, is, because they find 
it easier for themselves to pursue their obser- 
vations through an uniform and bounded walk 
of Art, than to comprehend the vast and various 
extent of Nature. 

Our author's work is a wild paradise, where 
if we cannot see all the beauties so distinctly 
as in an ordered garden, it is only because the 
number of them is infinitely greater. It is like 
a copious nursery, which contains the seeds and 
first productions of every kind, out of which 
those who followed him have but selected some 
particular plants, each according to his fancy, 
to cultivate and beautify. If some things are 
too luxuriant, it is owing to the richness of the 
soil ; and if others are uot arrived to perfection 
or maturity, it is only because they are over- 



run and oppressed by those of a stronger na- 
ture. 

It is to the strength of this amazing inven- 
tion we are to attribute that unequalled fire 
and rapture, which is so forcible in Homer, 
that no man of a true poetical spirit is master 
of himself while he reads him. What he writes 
is of the most animated nature imaginable ; 
everything moves, everything lives, and is put 
in action. If a council be called, or a battle 
fought, you are not coldly informed of what 
was said or done as from a third person ; the 
reader is hurried out of himself by the force 
of the poet's imagination, and turns in one 
place to a hearer, in another to a spectator. 
The course of his verses resembles that of the 
army he describes, 

Ot S* dp' XcraVf waei re nvpl x'^wv Traffa t/e/jLOiro. 

They pour along like a fire that sweeps the whole 
earth before it. It is, however, remarkable that 
his fancy, which is everywhere vigorous, is not 
discovered immediately at the beginning of his 
poem in its fullest splendour ; it grows in the 
progress both upon himself and others, and be- 
comes on fire, like a chariot-wheel, by its own 
rapidity. Exact disposition, just thought, cor- 
rect elocution, polished numbers, may have 
been found in a thousand ; but this poetical 
firCj this vivida vis aninii, in a very few. Even 
in works where all those are imperfect or neg- 
lected, this can overpower criticism, and make 
us admire even while we disapprove. Nay, 
where this appears, though attended with ab- 
surdities, it brightens all the rubbish about it, 
till we see nothing but its own splendour. This 
fire is discerned in Virgil, but discerned as 
through a glass, reflected from Homer, more 
shining than fierce, but everywhere equal and 
constant : in Lucan and Statins, it bursts oiit 
in sudden, short, and interrupted flashes : in 
Milton, it glows like a furnace kept up to an 
uncommon ardour by the force of art : in Shake- 
speare, it strikes before we are aware, like an 
accidental fire from heaven : but in Homer, 
and in him only, it burns everywhere clearly, 
and everywhere irresistibly. 

I shall here endeavour to show how this vast 



252 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



invention exerts itself in a manner superior to 
that of any poet, through all the main constit- 
uent parts of his work, as it is the great and 
peculiar characteristic which distinguishes him 
from all other authors. 

This strong and ruling faculty was like a 
powerful star, which, in the violence of its 
course, drew all things within its vortex. It 
seemed not enough to have taken in the whole 
circle of arts, and the whole compass of Nature, 
to supply his maxims and reflections ; all the 
inward passions and affections of mankind, to 
furnish his characters ; and all the outward 
forms and images of things for his descrip- 
tions ; but wanting yet an ampler sphere to 
expatiate in, he opened a new and boundless 
walk for his imagination, and created a world 
for himself in the invention of Fable. That 
which Aristotle calls the soul of poetry, was 
first breathed into it by Homer. I shall begin 
■with considering him in this part, as it is nat- 
urally the first ; and I speak of it both as it 
means the design of a poem, and as it is taken 
for fiction. 

^ Fable may be divided into the probable, the 
/allegorical, and the marvellous. The probable 
Fable is the recital of such actions as, though 
they did not happen, yet might, in the common 
course of Nature ; or of such as, though they 
did, become fables by the additional episodes 
and manner of telling them. Of this sort is 
the main story of an Epic poem, the return of 
Ulysses, the settlement of the Trojans in Italy, 
or the like. That of the Iliad, is the anger 
of Achilles, the most short and single subject 
that ever was chosen by any poet. Yet this 
he has supplied with a vaster variety of inci- 
dents and events, and crowded with a greater 
number of councils, speeches, battles, and epi- 
sodes of all kinds, than are to be found even in 
those poems whose schemes are of the utmost 
latitude and irregularity. The action is hurried 
on with the most vehement spirit, and its whole 
duration employs not so much as fifty days, 
Virgil, for want of go warm a genius, aided 
himself by taking in a more extensive subject, 
as well as a greater length of time, and con- 
tracting the design of both Homer's poems into 
one, which is yet but a fourth part as large as 
his. The other Epic poets have used the same 
practice, but generally carried it so far as to 
superinduce a multiplicity of fables, destroy 
the unity of action, and lose their readers in 
an unreasonable length of time. Nor is it only 
in the main design that they have been unable 
to add to his invention, but they have followed 
him in every episode and part of story. If he 
has given a regular catalogue of an army, they 
all draw up their forces in the same order. If 
he has funeral games for Patroclus, Virgil has 



the same for Anchises, and Statins (rather than 
omit them) destroys the unity of his action for 
those of Archemorus. If Ulysses visit the 
shades, the ^neas of Virgil, and Scipio of 
Silius, are sent after hira. If he be detained 
from his return by the allurements of Calypso, 
so is -^neas by Dido, and Rinaldo by Armida, 
If Achilles be absent from the army on the 
score of a quarrel through half the poem, Ri- 
naldo must absent himself just as long, on the 
like account. If he gives his hero a suit of 
celestial armour, Virgil and Tasso make the 
same present to theirs. Virgil has not only 
observed this close imitation of Homer, but, 
where he had not led the way, supplied the 
want from other Greek authors. Thus the 
story of Sinon and the taking of Troy was copied 
(says Macrobius) almost word for word from 
Pisander, as the loves of Dido and .^neas are 
taken from those of Medea and Jason in Apol- 
lonius, and several others in the same manner, 
-r- To proceed to the allegorical Fable. If we 
reflect upon those innumerable knowledges, 
those secrets of Nature and Physical Philo- 
sophy, which Homer is generally supposed to 
have wrapped up in his Allegories, what a new 
and ample scene of wonder may this considera- 
tion afford us ? How fertile will that imagi- 
nation appear, which was able to clothe all the 
properties of elements, the qualifications of the 
mind, the virtues and vices, in forms and per- 
sons ; and to introduce them into actions agree- 
able to the nature of the things they shadowed ! 
This is a field in which no succeeding poets 
could dispute with Homer ; and whatever com- 
mendations have been allowed them on this 
head, are by no means for their invention in 
having enlarged the circle, but for their judg- 
ment in having contracted it. For when the 
mode of learning changed in following ages, 
and Science was delivered in a plainer manner, 
it then became as reasonable in the more 
modern poets to lay it aside, as it was in 
Homer to make use of it. And perhaps it was 
no unhappy circumstance for Virgil, that there 
was not in his time that demand upon him 
of so great an invention, as might be capable 
of furnishing all those allegorical parts of a 
poem, 

,, The marvellous Fable includes whatever is 
supernatural, and especially the machines of 
the Gods. If Homer was not the first who in- 
troduced the Deities (as Herodotus imagines) 
into the religion of Greece, he seems the first 
who brought them into a system of machinery 
for poetry, and such a one as makes its great- 
est importance and dignity. For we find those 
authors who have been offended at the literal 
notion of the Gods, constantly laying their ac- 
cusation against Homer as the undoubted in- 



THE ILIAD 



253 



ventor of it. But whatever cause there might 
be to bhime his Machines in a philosophical or 
religious view, they are so perfect in the poetic, 
that mankind have been ever since contented 
to follow them : none have been able to en- 
large the sphere of jjoetry beyond the limits 
he has set : every attempt of this nature has 
proved unsuccessful ; and after all the various 
changes of times and religions, his Gods con- 
tinue to this day the Gods of poetry. 

We come now to the Characters of his per- 
sons ; and here we shall fincNiaiittthor has ever 
drawn so many, with so visible and surprising- 
a variety, or given us such lively and affecting 
impressions of them. Every one has some- 
thing so singularly his own, that no painter 
could have distinguished them more by their 
features, than the poet has by their manners. 
Nothing can be more exact than the distinc- 
tions he has observed in the different degrees 
of virtues and vices. The single quality of 
Courage is wonderfully diversified in the sev- 
eral characters of The Iliad. That of Achilles 
is furious and untractable ; that of Diomed for- 
ward, yet listening to advice, and subject to 
command ; that of Ajax is heavy, and self-con- 
fiding; of Hector, active and vigilant: the 
courage of Agamemnon is inspirited by love of 
empire and ambition ; that of Menelaus mixed 
with softness and tenderness for his people : 
we find in Idomeneus a plain direct soldier, in 
Sarpedon a gallant and generous one. Nor is 
this judicious and astonishing diversity to be 
found only in the principal quality which con- 
stitutes the main of each character, but even in 
the under-parts of it, to which he takes care 
to give a tincture of that principal one. For 
example, the main characters of Ulysses and 
Nestor consist in Wisdom ; and they are dis- 
tinct in this, that the wisdom of one is artificial 
and various, of the other natural, open, and 
regular. But they have, besides, characters 
of Courage ; and this quality also takes a dif- 
ferent turn in each from the difference of his 
prudence ; for one in the war depends still 
upon Caution, the other upon Experience. It 
would be endless to produce instances of these 
kinds. The characters of Virgil are far from 
striking us in this open manner ; they lie in a 
great degree hidden and undistinguished, and 
where they are marked most evidently, affect 
us not in proportion to those of Homer. His 
characters of valour are nmch alike ; even that 
of Turnus seems no way peculiar, but as it is 
in a superior degree ; and we see nothing that 
differences the courage of Mnestheus from that 
of Sergestus, Cloanthus, or the rest. In like 
manner it may be remarked of Statius's heroes, 
that an air of impetuosity runs through them 
all ; the same horrid and savage courage ap- 



pears in his Capaneus, Tydeus, Hippomedon, 
&c. They have a parity of character, which 
makes them seem brothers of one family. I 
believe when the reader is led into this track 
of reflection, if he will pursue it through the 
Epic and Tragic writers, he will be convinced 
how infinitely superior in this point the inven- 
tion of Homer was to that of all others. 

The Speeches are to be considered as they 
flow from the characters, being perfect or de- 
fective as they agree or disagree with the man- 
ners of those who utter them. As there is more 
variety of characters in The Iliad, so there is of 
speeches, than in any other poem. Every thing 
in it has manners (as Aristotle expresses it) ; 
that is, everything is acted or spoken. It is 
hardly credible in a work of such length, how 
small a immber of lines are employed in narra- 
tion. In Virgil, the dramatic part is less in 
proportion to the narrative ; and the speeches 
often consist of general reflections or thoughts, 
which might be equally just in any person's 
mouth upon the same occasion. As many of 
his persons have no apparent characters, so 
many of his speeches escape being applied and 
judged by the rule of propriety. We oftener 
think of the author himself when we read Vir- 
gil than when we are engaged in Homer : all 
which are the effects of a colder invention, 
that interests us less in the action described : 
Homer makes us hearers, and Virgil leaves us 
readers. 

If in the next place we take a view of the 
Sentiments, the same presiding faculty is emi- 
nent in the sublimity and spirit of his thoughts. 
Longinus has given his opinion, that it was in 
this part Homer principally excelled. What 
were alone sufficient to prove the grandeur and 
excellence of his sentiments in general, is, that 
they have so remarkable a parity with those 
of the Scripture : Duport, in his Gnomologia 
Homerica, has collected innumerable instances 
of this sort. And it is with justice an excellent 
modern writer allows, that if Virgil has not so 
many thoughts that are low and vulgar, he has 
not so many that are sublime and noble ; and 
that the Roman author seldom rises into very 
astonishing sentiments where he is not fired by 
The Iliad. 

If we observe his Descriptions, Images, and 
Similes, we shall find the invention still pre- 
dominant. To what else can we ascribe that 
vast comprehension of images of every sort, 
where we see each circumstance of art and in- 
dividual of nature summoned together, by the 
extent and fecundity of his imagination ; to 
which all things, in their various views, pre- 
sented themselves in an instant, and had their 
impressions taken off to perfection, at a heat ? 
Nay, he not only gives us the full prospects of 



254 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



things, but several unexpected peculiarities 
and side-views, unobserved by any painter but 
Homer. Nothing- is so surprising- as the de- 
scription of his battles, which take up no less 
than half The Iliad, and are supplied with so 
vast a variety of incidents, that no one bears 
a likeness to another ; such different kinds of 
deaths, that no two heroes are wounded in the 
same manner ; and such a profusion of noble 
ideas, that every battle rises above the last in 
greatness, horror, and confusion. It is certain 
there is not near the number of images and de- 
scriptions in any Epic poet ; though every one 
has assisted himself with a great quantity out 
of him : and it is evident of Virgil especially, 
that he has scarce any comparisons which are 
not drawn from his master. 

If we descend from hence to the Expression, 
•we see the bright imagination of Homer shin- 
ing out in the most enlivened forms of it. We 
acknowledge him the father of poetical diction, 
the first who taught that language of the Gods 
to men. His expression is like the colouring 
of some great masters, which discovers itself 
to be laid on boldly, and executed with rapid- 
ity. It is indeed the strongest and most glow- 
ing imaginable, and touched with the greatest 
spirit. Aristotle had reason to say, he was the 
only poet who had found out living words ; 
there are in him more daring figures and meta- 
phors than in any good author whatever. An 
arrow is impatient to be on the wing, a weapon 
thirsts to drink the blood of an enemy, and the 
like. Yet his expression is never too big for the 
sense, but justly great in proportion to it. It 
is the sentiment that swells and fills out the 
diction, which rises with it, and forms itself 
about it ; and in the same degree that a thought 
is warmer, an expression will be brighter ; as 
that is more strong, this will become more per- 
spicuous : like glass in the furnace, which 
grows to a greater magnitude, and refines to 
a greater clearness, only as the breath within 
is more powerful, and the heat more intense. 

To throw his language more out of prose, 
Homer seems to have affected the compound 
epithets. This was a sort of composition pecu- 
liarly proper to poetry, not only as it height- 
ened the diction, but as it assisted and filled 
the numbers with greater sound and pomp, and 
likewise conduced in some measure to thicken 
the images. On this last consideration I can- 
not but attribute these also to the fruitfulness 
of his invention ; since (as he has managed 
them) they are a sort of supernumerary pic- 
tures of the persons or things to which they 
are joined. We see the motion of Hector's 
plumes in the epithet Kopu>9afo\os, the land- 
scape of Mount Neritus in that of E,lvo(Ti<pv\Kos, 
and so of others ; which particular images could 



not have been insisted upon so long as to ex- 
press them in a description (though but of a 
single line), without diverting the reader too 
much from the principal action or figure. As 
a metaphor is a short simile, one of these epi- 
thets is a short description. 

Lastly, if we consider his Versification, we 
shall be sensible what a share'cFpratse-is due 
to his invention in that. He was not satisfied 
with his language as he found it settled in any 
one part of Greece, but searched through its 
differing dialects with this particular view, to 
beautify and perfect his numbers : he con- 
sidered these as they had a greater mixture 
of vowels or consonants, and accordingly em- 
ployed them as the verse required either a 
greater smoothness or strength. What he 
most affected was the Ionic, which has a pecu- 
liar sweetness from its never using contrac- 
tions, and from its custom of resolving the 
diphthongs into two syllables ; so as to make 
the words open themselves with a more spread- 
ing and sonorous fluency. With this he min- 
gled the Attic contractions, the broader Doric, 
and the feebler ^olic, which often rejects its 
aspirate, or takes off its accent ; and completed 
this variety by altering some letters with the 
license of poetry. Thus his measures, instead 
of being fetters to his sense, were always in 
readiness to run along with the warmth of his 
rapture, and even to give a farther representa- 
tion of his notions, in the correspondence of 
their sounds to w^hat they signified. Out of 
all these he has derived that harmony, which 
makes us confess he had not only the richest 
head, but the finest ear, in the world. This is 
so great a truth, that whoever will but consult 
the tune of his verses, even without understand- 
ing them (with the same sort of diligence as 
we daily see practised in the case of Italian 
operas), will find more sweetness, variety, and 
majesty of sound than in any other language 
or poetry. The beauty of his numbers is al- 
lowed by the critics to be copied but faintly 
by Virgil himself, though they are so just to 
ascribe it to the nature of the Latin tongue : 
indeed, the Greek has some advantages both 
from the natural sound of its words, and the 
turn and cadence of its verse, which agree with 
the genius of no other language. Virgil was 
very sensible of this, and used the utmost dili- 
gence in working up a mope intractable lan- 
guage to whatsoever graces it was capable of ; 
and in particular never failed to bring the 
sound of his line to a beautiful agreement with 
its sense. If the Grecian poet has not been so 
frequently celebrated on this account as the 
Roman, the only reason is, that fewer critics 
have understood one language than the other. 
Diouysius of Halicarnassus has pointed out 



THE ILIAD 



25s 



many of our author's beauties in this kind, in 
his treatise of the Composition of Words., and 
others will be taken notice of in the course of 
my notes. It suffices at present to observe of 
his numbers, that they flow with so much ease, 
as to make one imagine Homer had no other 
care than to transcribe as fast as the Muses 
dictated ; and at the same time with so much 
force and inspiriting- vig'our, that they awaken 
and raise us like the sound of a trumpet. They 
roll along- as a plentiful river, always in motion, 
and always full ; while we are borne away by 
a tide of verse, the most rapid, and yet the most 
smooth imaginable. 

Thus, on whatever side we contemplate 
Homer, what principally strikes us is his In- 
vention. It is that which forms the character 
of each part of his work ; and accordingly we 
find it to have made his fable more extensive 
and copious than any other ; his manners more 
lively and strongly marked, his speeches more 
affecting- and transported, his sentiments more 
warm and sublime, his imag-es and descriptions 
more full and animated, his expression more 
raised and daring-, and his numbers more rapid 
and various. I hope, in what has been said 
of Virgil with regard to any of these heads, I 
have no way derogated from his character. 
Nothing- is more absurd or endless, than the 
common method of comparing- eminent writers 
by an opposition of particular passag-es in them, 
and forming- a judg-ment from thence of their 
merit upon the whole. We ought to have a 
certain knowledge of the principal character 
and disting-uishing- excellence of each : it is in 
that we are to consider him. and in proportion 
to his degree in that we fu-e to admire him. 
No author or man ever excelled all the world 
in more than one faculty, and as Homer has 
done this in Invention., Virgil has in Judgment. 
Not that we are to think Homer wanted Judg- 
ment, because Virgil had it in a more eminent 
degree ; or that Virgil wanted Invention, be- 
cause Homer possessed a larger share of it ; 
each of these great authors had more of both 
than perhaps any man besides, and are only 
said to have less in comparison with one an- 
otlier. Homer was the greater genius, Virgil 
the better artist. In one we most admire the 
man, in the other the work. Homer hurries 
and transports us with a commanding im- 
petuosity. Virgil leads us with an attractive 
majesty : Homer scatters with a generous pro- 
fusion, Virgil bestows with a careful magnifi- 
cence : Homer, like the Nile, pours out his 
riches with a boundless overflow ; Virgil, like 
a river in its banks, with a gentle and constant 
stream. When we behold their battles, me- 
thinks the two poets resemble the heroes they 
celebrate : Homer, boundless and irresistible 



as Achilles, bears all before him, and shines 
more and more as the tumult increases ; Virgil, 
calmly daring like .^neas, appears undisturbed 
in the midst of the action, disposes all about 
him, and conquers with tranquillity. And when 
we look upon their machines. Homer seems like 
his own Jupiter in his terrors, shaking Olympus, 
scattering the lightnings, and firing- the hea- 
vens ; Virgil, like the same power in his bene- 
volence, counselling with the Gods, laying plans 
for empires, and regularly ordering his whole 
creation. 

But, after all, it is with great parts, as with 
great virtues; they naturally border on some 
imperfection ; and it is often hard to distin- , 
guish exactly where the virtue ends, or the 
fault begins. As prudence may sometimes 
sink to suspicion, so may a great judgment de- \ 
cline to coldness ; and as magnanimity may ) 
run up to profusion or extravagance, so may a 
great invention to redundancy or wildness. If ; 
we look upon Homer in this view, we shall per- , 
ceive the chief objections against him to pro- 
ceed from so noble a cause as the excess of this 
faculty. 

Among these we may reckon some of his 
marvellous fictions, upon which so much crit- 
icism has been spent, as surpassing all the 
bounds of probability. Perhaps it may be 
with great and superior souls as with gigan- 
tic bodies, which, exerting themselves with 
unusual strength, exceed what is commonly 
thought the due proportion of parts, to be- 
come miracles in the whole ; and, like tlie old 
heroes of that make, commit something near 
extravagance, amidst a series of glorious and 
inimitable performances. Thus Homer has liis 
speaking horses, and Virgil his myrtles distill- 
ing blood ; w^here the latter has not so much 
as contrived the easy intervention of a deity to 
save the probability. 

It is owing to the same vast invention, that 
his Similes have been thought too exuberant 
and full of circumstances. The force of this 
faculty is seen in nothing more, than in its in- 
ability to confine itself to that single circum- 
stance upon which the comparison is grounded : 
it runs out into embellishments of additional 
images, which, however, are so managed as 
not to overpower the naain one. His similes 
are like pictures, where the principal figure 
has not only its proportion given agreeable to 
the original, but is also set off with occasional 
ornaments and prospects. The same will ac- 
count for his manner of heaping a number of 
comparisons together in one breath, when his 
fancy suggested to him at once so many vari- 
ous and corresponding images. The reader 
will easily extend this observation to more ob- 
jections of the same kind. 



256 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



If there are others which seem rather to 
charge him with a defect or narrowness of 
genius, than an excess of it, those seeming de- 
fects will be found upon examination to pro- 
ceed wholly from the nature of the times he 
lived in. Such are his grosser representations 
of the Gods, and the vicious and imperfect 
mannei's of his heroes ; but I must here speak 
a word of the latter, as it is a point generally 
carried into extremes, both by the censurers and 
defenders of Homer. It must be a strange 
partiality to antiquity, to think with Madame 
Dacier, ' that those times and manners are so 
much the more excellent, as they are more 
contrary to ours.' Who can be so prejudiced 
in their favour as to magnify the felicity of 
those ages, when a spirit of revenge and cruelty, 
joined witli the practice of rapine and robbery, 
reigned through the world ; when no mercy 
was shewn for the sake of lucre ; when the 
greatest princes were put to the sword, and 
their wives and daughters made slaves and 
concubines ? On the other side, I would not 
be so delicate as those modern critics, who are 
shocked at the servile offices and mean em- 
ployments in which we sometimes see the 
heroes of Homer engaged. There is a plea- 
sure in taking a view of that simplicity, in 
opposition to the luxury of succeeding ages; 
in beholding monarchs without their guards, 
princes tending their flocks, and princesses 
drawing water from the springs. When we 
read Homer, we ought to reflect that we are 
reading the most ancient author in the heathen 
world ; and those who consider him in this 
light, will double their pleasure in the perusal 
of him. Let them think they are growing ac- 
quainted with nations and people that are now 
no more ; that they are stepping almost three 
thousand years back into the remotest anti- 
quity, and entertaining themselves with a clear 
and siarprising vision of things nowhere else to 
be found, the only true mirror of that ancient 
world. By this means alone their greatest ob- 
stacles will vanish ; and what usually creates 
their dislike will become a satisfaction. 

This consideration may farther serve to an- 
swer for the constant use of the same Epithets 
to his Gods and Heroes, such as the far-darting 
Phcjebus, the blue-eyed Pallas, the swift-footed 
Achilles, &c., which some have censured as 
impertinent and tediously repeated. Those of 
the Gods depended upon the powers and offices 
then believed to belong to them, and had con- 
tracted a weight and veneration from the rites 
and solemn devotions in which they were used : 
they were a sort of attributes with which it 
was a matter of religion to salute them on all 
occasions, and which it was an irreverence to 
orait. As for the epithets of great men, Mons. 



Boileau is of opinion, that they were in the na- 
ture of surnames, and repeated as such ; for the 
Greeks, having no names derived from their 
fathers, were obliged to add some other dis- 
tinction of each person ; either naming his 
parents expressly, or his place of birth, pro- 
fession, or the like : as Alexander, the son of 
Philip, Herodotus of Halicarnassus, Diogenes 
the Cynic, &c. Homer, therefore, complying 
with the custom of his country, used such dis- 
tinctive additions as better agreed with poetry. 
And indeed we have something parallel to 
these in modern times, such as the names of 
Harold Harefoot, Edmund Ironside, Edward 
Longshanks, Edward the Black Prince, &c. 
If yet this be thought to account better for 
the propriety than for the repetition, I shall 
add a farther conjecture. Hesiod, dividing the 
world into its different ages, has placed a 
fourth age between the brazen and the iron 
one, of ' heroes distinct from other men, a 
divine race, who fought at Thebes and Troy, 
are called demi-gods, and live by the care of 
Jupiter in the islands of the blessed.' ^ Now 
among the divine honours which were paid 
them, they might have this also in common 
with the Gods, not to be mentioned without 
the solemnity of an epithet, and such as might 
be acceptable to them by its celebrating their 
families, actions, or qualities. 

What other cavils have been raised against 
Homer, are such as hardly deserve a reply, but 
will yet be taken notice of as they occur in the 
course of the work. Many have been occa- 
sioned by an injudicious endeavour to exalt 
Virgil ; which is much the same, as if one 
should think to raise the superstructure by un- 
dermining the foundation : one would imagine 
by the whole course of their parallels, that these 
critics never so much as heard of Homer's hav- 
ing written first ; a consideration which who- 
ever compares these two poets ought to have 
always in his eye. Some accuse him for the 
same things which they overlook or praise him 
in the other ; as when they prefer the fable 
and moral of the ^neis to those of the Iliad, 
for the same reasons which might set the 
Odyssey ahove the u^neis ; as that the hero is 
a wiser man and the action of the one more^ 
beneficial to his country than that of the other : 
or else they blame him for not doing what he 
never designed ; as because Achilles is not as 
good and perfect a prince as j^neas, when the 
very moral of his poem required a contrary 
character ; it is thus that Rapin judges in hia 
comparison of Homer and Virgil. Others se- 
lect those particular passages of Homer, which 
are not so laboured as some that Virgil drew 
out of them : this is the whole management of 
' Hesiod, lib. i. ver. 155, &c. 



THE ILIAD 



257 



Scaliger in his Poetics. Othf rs quarrel with 
what they take for low and in tan expressions, 
sometinies through a false delicacy and refine- 
ment, oftener from an ignorance of the graces 
of the original ; and then triumph in the awk- 
wardness of their own translations : this is the 
conduct of Perrault in his Parallels. Lastly, 
there are others, who, pretending to a fairer 
proceeding, distinguish between the personal 
merit of Homer, and that of his work; but 
when they come to assign the causes of the 
great reputation of the Iliad^ they found it 
upon the ignorance of his times, and the pre- 
judice of those that followed ; and in pursu- 
ance of this principle, they make those acci- 
dents (such as the contention of the cities, &c. ) 
to be the causes of his fame, which were in 
reality the consequences of his merit. The 
same might as well be said of Virgil, or any 
great author, whose general character will in- 
fallibly raise many casual additions to their 
reputation. This is the method of Mons. de 
la Motte ; who yet confesses upon the whole, 
that in whatever age Homer had lived, he 
must have been the greatest poet of his nation, 
and that he may be said in this sense to be the 
master even of those who surpassed him. 

In all these objections we see nothing that 
contradicts his title to the honour of the chief 
Invention ; and as long as this (which is indeed 
the characteristic of poetry itself) remains un- 
equalled by his followers, he still continues 
superior to them. A cooler judgment may 
commit fewer faults, and be more approved 
in the eyes of one sort of critics : but that 
•warmth of fancy will carry the loudest and 
most universal applauses, which holds the heart 
of a reader under the strongest enchantment. 
Homer not only appears the inventor of poetry, 
but excels all the inventors of other arts in 
this, that he has swallowed up the honour of 
those who succeeded him. What he has done 
admitted no increase, it only left room for con- 
traction or regulation. He showed all the 
stretch of fancy at once ; and if he has failed 
in some of his flights, it was but because he 
attempted every thing. A work of this kind 
seems like a mighty tree which rises from the 
most vigorous seed, is improved with industry, 
flourishes, and produces the finest fruit ; nature 
and art conspire to raise it ; pleasure and pro- 
fit join to make it valuable ; and they who find 
the justest faults, have only said, that a few 
branches (which run luxuriant through a rich- 
ness of Nature) might be lopped into form to 
give it a more regular appearance. 

Having now spoken of the beauties and de- 
fects of the Original, it remains to treat of the 
Translation, with the same view to the chief 



characteristic. As far as that is seen in the 
main parts of the poem, such as the Fable, 
Manners, and tSentiments, no translator can 
prejudice it but by wilful omissions or con- 
tractions. As it also breaks out in every par- 
ticular image, description, and simile ; whoever 
lessens or too much softens those, takes otiP 
from this chief character. It is the first grand 
duty of an interpreter to give his author entire 
and unmaimed ; and for the rest, the diction 
and versification only are his proper province ; 
since these must be his own, but the others he 
is to take as he finds them. 

It should then be considered what methods 
may afford some equivalent in our language 
for the graces of these in the Greek. It is cer- 
tain no literal translation can be just to an ex- 
cellent original in a superior language : but it 
is a great mistake to imagine (as many have 
done) that a rash paraphrase can make amends 
for this general defect : which is no less in 
danger to lose the spirit of an ancient, by de\'i- 
ating into the modern manners of expression. 
If there be sometimes a darkness, there is often 
a light in antiquity, which nothing better pre- 
serves than a version almost literal. I know 
no liberties one ought to take, but those which 
are necessary for transfusing the spirit of the 
original, and supporting the poetical style of 
the translation : and I will venture to say 
there have not been more men misled in former 
times by a servile dull adherence to the letter, 
than have been deluded in ours by a chimeri- 
cal insolent hope of raising and improving their 
author. It is not to be doubted that the fire 
of the poem is what a translator should princi- 
pally regard, as it is most likely to expire in 
his managing : however, it is his safest way to 
be content with preserving this to his utmost 
in the whole, without endeavouring to be more 
than he finds his author is, in any particular 
place. It is a great secret in writing to know 
when to be plain, and when poetical and figur- 
ative ; and it is what Homer will teach us. if 
we will but follow modestly in his footsteps. 
Where his diction is bold and lofty, let us raise 
ours as high as we can ; but where his is plain 
and humble, we ought not to be deterred from 
imitating him by the fear of incurring the cen 
sure of a mere English critic. Nothing that 
belongs to Homer saems to have been more 
commonly mistaken than the just pitch of his 
style: some of his translators having swelled 
into fustian in a proud confidence of the Sub- 
lime ; others sunk into flatness in a cold and 
timorous notion of Simplicity. Metliinks I see 
these different followers of Homer, some sweat- 
ing and straining after him by violent leaps 
and bounds (the certain signs of false mettle) ; 
others slowly and servilely creeping in his 



258 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HC/MER 



train, -while the poet himself is all the time 
proceeding- -with au unaffected and equal ma- 
jesty before them. However, of the two ex- 
tremes one could sooner pardon frenzy than 
frigidity : no author is to be envied for such 
commendations as he may g-ain by that char- 
acter of style, which his friends must agree to- 
gether to call {Simplicity, and the rest of the 
world will call Duiness. There is a g-racef ul 
and dignified simplicity, as well as a bald and 
sordid one, which differ as much from each 
other as the air of a plain man from that of a 
sloven : it is one thing to be tricked up, and 
another not to be dressed at all. Simplicity is 
the mean between ostentation and rusticity. 

This pure and noble simplicity is noAvhere 
in such perfection as in the Scripture and our 
Author. One may affirm, with all respect to 
the inspired writings, that the divine Spirit 
made use of no other words but what were in- 
telligible and common to men at that time, 
and in that part of the world ; and as Homer 
is the author nearest to those, his style miist of 
course bear a greater resemblance to the sacred 
books than that of any other writer. This con- 
sideration (together with what has been ob- 
served of the parity of some of his thoughts) 
may. methinks, induce a translator on the one 
hand to give into several of those general 
phrases and manners of expression, which have 
attained a veneration even in our language 
from being used in the Old Testament ; as, on 
the other, to avoid those which have been ap- 
propriated to the Divinity, and in a manner 
consigned to mystery and religion. 

For a farther preservation of this air of sim- 
plicity, a particular care should be taken to 
express Avith all plainness those moral sentences 
and proverbial speeches which are so numer- 
ous in this poet. They have something vener- 
able, and, as I may say, oracular, in that un- 
adorned gravity and shortness with which they 
are delivered : a grace which would be utterly 
lost by endeavouring to give them what we 
call a more ingenious (that is, a more modern) 
turn in the paraphrase. 

Perhaps the mixture of some Grsecisms and 
old words after the manner of Milton, if done 
-without too much affectation, might not have 
an ill effect in a version of this particular work, 
which most of any other seems to require a 
venerable antique cast. But certainly the use 
of modern terms of war and government, such 
as platoon^ campaign, junto, or the like (into 
which some of his translators have fallen), can- 
not be allowable ; those only excepted, without 
which it is impossible to treat the subjects in 
any living language. 

There are two peculiarities in Homer's dic- 
tion which are a sort of marks, or moles, by 



which every coi, imon eye distinguishes him at 
first sight : thos: 3 who are not his greatest ad- 
mirers look upon them as defects, and those 
who are, seem pleased with them as beauties. 
I speak of his Compound Epithets, and of his 
Repetitions. Many of the former cannot be 
done literally into English without destroy- 
ing the purity of our language. I believe such 
should be retained as slide easily of themselves 
into an English compound, without violence 
to the ear or to the received rules of composi- 
tion : as well as those Avhich have received a 
sanction from the authority of our best poet, 
and are become familiar through their use of 
them ; such as ' the cloud-compelling Jove,' 
&c. As for the rest, whenever they can be as 
fully and significantly expressed in a single word 
as in a compound one, the course to be taken is 
obvious. 

Some that cannot be so turned as to preserve 
their full image by one or two words, may have 
justice done them by circumlocution ; as the 
epithet eivocricpvWos to a mountain, would ap- 
pear little or ridiculous translated literally 
' leaf-shaking.' but affords a majestic idea in 
the periphrasis : ' The lofty mountain shakes 
his waving woods.' Others that adniit of dif- 
fering significations, may receive an advan- 
tage by a judicious A'ariation according to the 
occasions on which they are introduced. For 
example, the epithet of Apollo, c/ctj/SoAos, or 
'far-shooting,' is capable of two explications; 
one literal in respect of the darts and bow, the 
ensigns of that God ; the other allegorical, with 
regard to the rays of the sun : therefore in such 
places where Apollo is represented as a God in 
person. I would use the former interpretation, 
and where the effects of the sun are described, 
I woitld make choice of the latter. Upon the 
whole, it will be necessary to avoid that per- 
petual repetition of the same epithets which 
we find in Homer, and which, though it might 
be accommodated (as has been already shewn) 
to the ear of those times, is by no means so to 
ours : but one may wait for opportunities of 
placing them where they derive an additional 
beauty from the occasions on which they are 
employed ; and in doing this properly, a trans- 
lator may at once shew his fancy and his judg- 
ment. 

As for Homer's Repetitions, we may divide 
them into three sorts ; of whole narrations and 
speeches, of single sentences, and of one verse 
or hemistich. I hope it is not impossible to 
have such a regard to these, as neither to lose 
so known a mark of the author on the one 
hand, nor to offend the reader too much on the 
other. The repetition is not ungraceful in 
those speeches where the dignity of the speaker 
renders it a sort of insolence to alter his words; 



THE ILIAD 



259 



as in the messages from Gods to men, or from 
higher powers to inferiors in concerns of state, 
or where the ceremonial of religion seems to 
require it, in the solemn forms of prayers, 
oaths, or the like. In other cases, I believe 
the best rule is to be guided by the nearness or 
distance at which the repetitions are placed in 
the original : when they follow too close, one 
may vary the expression, but it is a question 
whether a professed translator be authorized to 
omit any ; if they be tedious, the author is to 
answer for it. 

It only remains to speak of the Versification. 
Homer (as has been said) is perpetually apply- 
ing the sound to the sense, and varying it on 
every new subject. This is indeed one of the 
most exquisite beaiities of poetry, and attain- 
able by very few : I know only of Homer emi- 
nent for it in the Greek, and Virgil in Latin. I 
am sensible it is what may sometimes happen 
by chance, when a writer is warm, and fully 
possessed of his image : however, it may rea- 
sonably be believed they designed this, in whose 
verse it so manifestly appears in a superior de- 
gree to all others. Few readers have the ear 
to be judges of it, but those who have, will see 
I have endeavoured at this beauty. 

Upon the whole, I must confess myself ut- 
terly incapable of doing justice to Homer. I 
attempt him in no other hope but that which 
one may entertain without much vanity, of 
giving a more tolerable copy of him than any 
entire translation in verse has yet done. We 
have only those of Chapman, Hobbes, and 
Ogilby. Chapman has taken the advantage of 
an immeasurable length of verse, notwithstand- 
ing which, there is scarce any paraphrase more 
loose and rambling than his. He has frequent 
interpolations of four or six lines, and I re- 
member one in the thirteenth book of the 
Odysset/, ver. 312, where he has spun twenty 
verses out of two. He is often mistaken in so 
bold a manner, that one might think he deviated 
on purpose, if he did not in other places of his 
notes insist so much upon verbal trifles. He 
appears to have had a strong affectation of ex- 
tracting new meanings out of his author, inso- 
much as to promise, in his rhyming preface, a 
poem of the mysteries he had revealed in 
Homer ; and perhaps he endeavoured to strain 
the obvious sense to this end. His expression 
is involved in fustian ; a fault for which he was 
remarkable in his original writings, as in the 
tragedy of Bussy d'Amboise, &c. In a word, 
the nature of the man may account for his 
whole performance ; for he appears from his 
preface and remarks to have been of an arro- 
gant turn, and an enthusiast in poetry. His 
own boast of having finished half the Iliad in 
less than fifteen weeks, shews with what negli- 



gence his version was performed. But that 
which is to be allowed him, and which very 
much contributed to cover his defects, is a 
daring fiery spirit that animates his translation, 
which is something- like what one might ima- 
gine Homer himself would have writ before he 
arrived to years of discretion. 

Hobbes has given us a correct explanation 
of the sense in general ; but for particulars and 
circumstances, he continually lops them, and 
often omits the most beautiful. As for its be- 
ing esteemed a close translation, I doubt not 
many have been led into that error by the 
shortness of it, which proceeds not from his 
following the original line by line, but from 
the contractions above mentioned. He some- 
times omits whole similes and sentences, and is 
now and then guilty of mistakes, into which no 
writer of his learning could have fallen, but 
through carelessness. His poetry, as well as 
Ogilby 's, is too mean for criticism. 

It is a great loss to the poetical world that 
Mr. Dryden did not live to translate the Iliad. 
He has left us only the first book, and a small 
part of the sixth ; in which if he has in some 
places not truly interpreted the sense, or pre- 
served the antiquities, it ought to be excused 
on account of the haste he was obliged to write 
in. He seems to have had too much regard to 
Chapman, whose words he sometimes copies, 
and has unhappily followed him in passages 
where he wanders from the original. How- 
ever, had he translated the whole work, I 
would no more have attempted Homer after 
him than Virgil, his version of whom (notwith- 
standing some human erroi-s) is the most noble 
and spirited translation I know in any lan- 
guage. But the fate of great geniuses is like 
that of great ministers : though they are con- 
fessedly the first in the commonwealth of let- 
ters, they must be envied and calumniated only 
for being at the head of it. 

That which in my opinion ought to be the 
endeavour of any one who translates Homer, is 
above all things to keep alive that spirit and 
fire which makes his chief character : in parti- 
cular places, where the sense can bear any 
doubt, to follow the strongest and most poeti- 
cal, as most agreeing with that character ; to 
copy him in all the variations of his style, and 
the different modulations of his numbers ; to 
preserve, in the more active or descriptive 
parts, a warmth and elevation ; in the more 
sedate or narrative, a plainness and solemnity ; 
in the speeches, a fulness and perspicuity ; in 
the sentences, a shortness and gravity : not to 
neglect even the little figures and turns on the 
words, nor sometimes the very cast of the 
periods ; neither to omit nor confound any rites 
or customs of antiquity : perhaps, too, he 



26o 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



oug-ht to conclude the whole in a shorter com- 
pass than has hitherto heen done by any trans- 
lator who has tolerably preserved either the 
sense or poetry. What I would farther recom- 
mend to him, is to study his author rather from 
his own text, than from any commentaries, how 
learned soever, or whatever figure they may 
make in the estimation of the world ; to con- 
sider him attentively in comparison with Virgil 
above all the ancients, and with Milton above 
all the moderns. Next these, the Archbishop 
of Cambray's Telemachus may give him the 
truest idea of the spirit and turn of our author, 
and Bossu's admirable treatise of the Epic 
Poem the justest notion of his design and con- 
duct. But, after all, with whatever judgment 
and study a man may proceed, or with what- 
ever happiness he may perform such a work, 
he must hope to please but a few ; those only 
who have at once a taste of poetry, and com- 
petent learning. For to satisfy such as want 
either, is not in the nature of this undertaking* ; 
since a mere modern Wit can like nothing that 
is not modern, and a Pedant nothing that is not 
Greek. 

What I have done is submitted to the public, 
from whose opinions I am prepared to learn ; 
though I fear no judges so little as our best 
poets, who are most sensible of the weight of 
this task. As for the worst, whatever they 
shall please to say, they may give me some 
concern as they are unhappy men, but none as 
they are malignant writers. I was guided in 
this translation by judgments very different 
from theirs, and by persons for whom they can 
have no kindness, if an old observation be true, 
that the strongest antipathy in the world is 
that of fools to men of wit. Mr. Addison was 
the first whose advice determined me to under- 
take this task ; who was pleased to write to 
me upon that occasion in such terms as I can- 
not repeat without vanity. I was obliged to 
Sir Richard Steele for a very early recommen- 
dation of my undertaking to the public. Dr. 
Swift promoted my interest with that warmth 
with whicli he always serves his friend. The 
humanity and frankness of Sir Samuel Garth 
are what I never knew wanting on any occasion. 
I must also acknowledge, with infinite plea- 
sure, the many friendly offices, as well as sin- 
cere criticisms, of Mr. Congreve, who had led 
me the way in translating some parts of Homer. 
I miist add the names of Mr. Rowe and Dr. 
Parnell, though I shall take a farther oppor- 
tunity of doing justice to the last, whose good- 
nature (to give it a great panegyric) is no less 
extensive than his learning. The favour of 
these gentlemen is not entirely undeserved by 
one who bears them so true an affection. But 
what can I say of the honour so many of the 



great have done me, while the Jirst names of 
the age appear as my subscribers, and the most 
distinguished patrons and orn;iments of learn- 
ing, as my chief encouragers ? Among these 
it is a particular pleasure to me to find, that 
my highest obligations are to such who have 
done most honour to the name of poet : That 
his grace the Duke of Buckingham was not 
displeased I should undertake the author to 
whom he has given (in his excellent Essay) so 
complete a praise : 

Read Homer once, and you can read no more; 
For all books else appear so mean, so poor, 
"Verse will seem prose ; but still persist to read 
And Homer will be all the books you need : 

That the Earl of Halifax was one of the first 
to favour me, of whom it is hard to say whether 
the advancement of the Polite Arts is more 
owing to his generosity or his example : That 
such a genius as my Lord Bolingbroke, not 
more distinguished in the great scenes of busi- 
ness, than in all the useful and entertaining 
parts of learning, has not refused to be the 
critic of these sheets, and the patron of their 
writer: and that the noble author ^ of the 
tragedy of Heroic Love has continued his par- 
tiality to me, from my writing Pastorals, to my 
attempting the Iliad. I cannot deny myself the 
pride of confessing, that I have had the ad- 
vantage not only of their advice for the con- 
duct in general, but their correction of several 
particulars of this translation. 

I could say a great deal of the plea<?ni'e of 
being distinguished by the Earl of Carnarvon, 
but it is almost absurd to particularize any one 
generous action in a person whose whole life is 
a continued series of them. Mr. Stanhope, the 
present secretary of state, will pardon my de- 
sire of having it known that he was pleased to 
promote this affair. The particular zeal of 
Mr. Harcourt (the son of the late Lord Chan- 
cellor) gave me a proof how much I am hon- 
oured in a share of his friendship. I must 
attribute to the same motive that of several 
others of my friends, to whom all acknowledg- 
ments are rendered unnecesary by the privi- 
leges of a familiar correspondence ; and I am 
satisfied I can no way better oblige men of 
their turn than by my silence. 

In short, I have found more patrons than 
ever Homer wanted. He would have thought 
himself happy to have met the same favour at 
Athens, that has been shown me by its learned 
rival, the university of Oxford. And I can 
hardly envy him those pompous honours he 
received after death, when I reflect on the en- 
joyment of so many agreeable obligations, and 
easy friendships, which make the satisfaction 
of life. This distinction is the more to be ac- 
1 George Granville, Lord Lansdowu«. 



THE ILIAD 



261 



knowledg'ed, as it is shewn to one whose pen 
has never gratified the prejudices of particular 
parties, or the vanities of particular men. What- 
ever the success nriay prove, I shall never repent 
of an undertaking- in which I have experienced 
the candour and friendship of so many persons 
of merit ; and in which I hope to pass some of 
those years of youth tliat are generally lost 
in a circle of follies, after a manner neither 
wholly unuseful to others, nor disagreeable to 
myself. 



BOOK I 

THE CONTENTION OF ACHILLES AND AGA- 
MEMNON 

THE ARGUMENT 

In the war of Troy, the Greeks having sacked 
some of the neigiibouring towns, and taking 
from thence two beautiful captives, Chrj^is, 
and BriseiSj allotted the first to Aganiemnon, 
and the last to Achilles. Chryses, the father 
of Chryseis, and priest of Apollo, comes to 
the Grecian camp to ransom her ; with which 
the action of the poem opens, in the tenth year 
of the siege. The priest being refused and 
insolently dismissed by Agamemnon, entreats 
for vengeance from his god, who inflicts a 
pestilence on the Greeks. Acliilles calls a 
council, and encourages Chalcas to declare 
the cause of it, who attributes it to the re- 
fusal of Chryseis. The king being obliged to 
send back his captive, enters into a furious 
contest with Achilles, which Nestor pacifies ; 
however, as he had the absolute command of 
the army, he seizes on Briseis in revenge. 
Achilles in discontent withdraws himself and 
his forces from the rest of the Greeks ; and 
complaining to Thetis, she supplicates Jupi- 
ter to render them sensible of the wrong 
done to her son, by giving victory to the 
Trojans. Jupiter granting her suit, incenses 
Juno, between whom the debate runs high, 
till they are reconciled by the address of 
Vulcan. 

The time of two-and-twenty days is taken up 
in this book ; nine during the plague, one in 
the council and quarrel of the Princes, and 
twelve for Jupiter's stay with the Ethiopians, 
at whose return Thetis prefers her petition. 
The scene lies in the Grecian camp, then 
changes to Chrysa, and lastly to Olympus. 

Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful 

spring 
Of woes unnumber'd, heav'nly Goddess, 

singl 



That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy 

reign 
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain: 
Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore, 
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore: 
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, 
Such was the Sov'reign doom, and such the 

will of Jove! 
Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour 
Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended 

power ? 10 

Latona's son a dire contagion spread. 
And heap'd the camp with mountains of 

the dead; 
The King of Men his rev'rend priest defied. 
And for the King's offence, the people died. 
For Chryses sought with costly gifts to 

gain 
His captive daughter from the victor's 

chain. 
Suppliant the venerable father stands; 
Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands: 
By these he begs: and, lowly bending 

down, 19 

Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown. 
He sued to all, but chief implored for grace 
The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race: 
* Ye Kings and Warriors! may your vows 

be crown'd. 
And Troy's proud walls lie level with the 

ground; 
May Jove restore you, when your toils 

are o'er. 
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. 
But oh 1 relieve a wretched parent's pain, 
And give Chryseis to these arms again; 
If mercy fail, yet let my presents move. 
And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.* 
The Greeks in shouts their joint assent 

declare, 31 

The Priest to rev'rence and release the 

Fair. 
Not so Atrides: he, with kingly pride, 
Repuls'd the sacred sire, and thus replied: 
' Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile 

plains, 
Nor ask, presumptuous, what the King de- 
tains: 
Hence, with thy laurel crown, and golden 

rod. 
Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy God. 
Mine is thy daughter. Priest, and shall re- 
main; 
And prayers, and tears, and bribes, shall 

plead in vain; 4a 



262 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Till time shall rifle ev'ry youthful grace, 
And age dismiss her from my cold em- 
brace, 
In daily labours of the loom employ 'd, 
Or doom'd to deck the bed she once en- 

Hence then! to Argos shall the maid re- 
tire, 

Far from her native soil, and weeping sire.' 
The trembling priest along the shore 
return'd. 

And in the anguish of a father mourn'd. 

Disconsolate, not daring to complain, 

Silent he wander'd by the sounding main: 50 

Till, safe at distance, to his God he prays. 

The God who darts around the world his 
rays. 
* O Smintheus! sprung from fair Latona's 
line, 

Thou guardian power of Cilia the divine. 

Thou source of light! whom Tenedos 
adores, 

And whose bright presence gilds thy 
Chrysa's shores; 

If e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred 
fane, 

Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain, 

God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ, 

Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks de- 
stroy.' 60 
Thus Chryses pray'd: the fav'ring power 
attends, 

And from Olympus' lofty tops descends. 

Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to 
wound ; 

Fierce, as he mov'd, his silver shafts re- 
sound. 

Breathing revenge, a sudden night he 
spread. 

And gloomy darkness roll'd around his 
head. 

The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly 
bow. 

And hissing fly the feather'd fates below. 

On mules and dogs th' infection first began; 

And last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in 
man. 70 

For nine long nights, thro' all the dusky air 

The pyres thick-flaming shot a dismal 
glare. 

But ere the tenth revolving day was run, 

Inspired by Juno, Thetis' god-like son 

Convened to council all the Grecian train; 

For much the Goddess mourn'd her heroes 
slain. 



Th' assembly seated, rising o'er the rest, 
Achilles thus the King of Men address'd: 
* Why leave we not the fatal Trojan 

shore. 
And measure back the seas we cross'd 

before ? 80 

The Plague destroying whom the Sword 

would spare, 
'T is time to save the few remains of war. 
But let some prophet or some sacred sage 
Explore the cause of great Apollo's rage; 
Or learn the wasteful vengeance to remove 
By mystic dreams, for dreams descend 

from Jove. 
If broken vows this heavy curse have laid, 
Let altars smoke, and hecatombs be paid. 
So Heav'n atoned shall dying Greece re- 
store, 
And Phcebus dart his burning shafts no 

more.' 90 

He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus 

replied : 
Chalcas the wise, the Grecian priest and 

guide. 
That sacred seer, whose comprehensive 

view 
The past, the present, and the future 

knew; 
Uprising slow, the venerable sage 
Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of 

age: 
'Belov'd of Jove, Achilles! would'st 

thou know 
Why angry Phcebus bends his fatal bow ? 
First give thy faith, and plight a Prince's 

word 
Of sure protection, by thy power and 

sword, 100 

For I must speak what wisdom would con- 
ceal. 
And truths invidious to the great reveal. 
Bold is the task, when subjects, grown too 

wise, 
Instruct a monarch where his error lies; 
For tho' we deem the short-lived fury past, 
'T is sure, the mighty will revenge at last.' 
To whom Pelides: * From thy inmost soul 
Speak what thou know'st, and speak with- 
out control. 
Ev'n by that God I swear, who rules the 

day, 
To whom thy hands the vows of Greece 

convey, no 

And whose blest oracles thy lips declare ; 
Long as Achilles breathes this vital air, 



THE ILIAD 



263 



No daring Greek, of all the numerous band, 
Against his priest shall lift an impious 

hand : 
Not ev'n the Chief by whom our hosts are 

led, 
The King of Kings, shall touch that sacred 

head.' 
Encouraged thus, the blameless man re- 
plies: 
* Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice, 
* But he, our Chief, provoked the raging 

pest, 119 

Apollo's vengeance for his injured priest. 
Nor will the God's awaken'd fury cease. 
But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires 

increase. 
Till the great King, without a ransom paid, 
/ To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed 
/ maid. 

Perhaps, with added sacrifice and prayer, 
\ The Priest may pardon, and the God may 
\ spare.' 

The prophet spoke ; when, with a gloomy 

frown. 
The Monarch started from his shining 

throne ; 
Black choler fill'd his breast that boil'd 

with ire. 
And from his eyeballs flash'd the living 

fire. 130 

' Augur accurs'd! denouncing mischief still. 
Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill! 
Still must that tongue some wounding mes- 
sage bring, 
And still thy priestly pride provoke thy 

King ? 
For this are Phoebus' oracles explor'd, 
To teach the Greeks to murmur at their 

lord ? 
For this with falsehoods is my honour 

stain'd ; 
Is Heav'n offended, and a priest profaned. 
Because my prize, my beauteous maid, 1 

hold. 
And heav'nly charms prefer to proffer'd 
^ gold ? 140 

A maid, unmatch'd in manners as in face, 
Skill'd in each art, and crown'd with ev'ry 

grace : 
Not half so dear were Clytsemnestra's 

charms. 
When first her blooming beauties bless'd 

my arms. 
Yet, if the Gods demand her, let her sail; 
Our cares are only for the public weal: 



Let me be deem'd the hateful cause of all. 
And suffer, rather than my people fall. 
The prize, the beauteous prize, I will re- 
sign. 
So dearly valued, and so justly mine. 150 
But since for common good I yield the Fair, 
My private loss let grateful Greece repair; 
Nor unrewarded let your Prince complain, 
That he alone has fought and bled in vain.' 
'Insatiate King!' (Achilles thus re- 
plies) 
'Fond of the Power, but fonder of the 

Prize! 
Wouldst thou the Greeks their lawful prey 

should yield. 
The due reward of many a well - fought 

field ? 
The spoils of cities razed, and warriors 

slain, 
We share with justice, as with toil we 
gain: 160 

But to resume whate'er thy av'rice craves 
(That trick of tyrants) may be borne by 

slaves. 
Yet if our Chief for plunder only fight, 
The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss requite. 
Whene'er, by Jove's decree, our conquer- 
ing powers 
Shall humble to the dust her lofty towers.* 
Then thus the King: 'Shall I my prize 
resign 
With tame content, and thou possess'd of 

thine ? 
Great as thou art, and like a God in fight, 
Think not to rob me of a soldier's right. 170 
At thy demand shall I restore the maid ? 
First let the just equivalent be paid; 
Such as a King might ask; and let it be 
A treasure worthy her, and worthy me. 
Or grant me this, ©r with a monarch's 

claim 
This hand shall seize some other captive 

dame. 
The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign, 
Ulysses' spoils, or ev'n thy own be mine. 
The man who suffers, loudly may com- 
plain; 
And rage he may, but he shall rage in 
vain. 180 

But this when time requires: It now re- 
mains 
We launch a bark to plough the wat'ry 

plains. 
And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa's shores, 
With chosen pilots, and with lab'ring oars. 



264 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Soon shall the Fair the sable ship ascend, 
And some deputed prince the charge attend. 
This Greta's king, or Ajax shall fulfil. 
Or wise Ulysses see perform'd our will; 
Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain, 189 
Achilles' self conduct her o'er the main; 
Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage. 
The God propitiate, and the pest assuage.' 
At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied: 
* O tyrant, arm'd with insolence and pride! 
Inglorious slave to int'rest, ever join'd 
With fraud unworthy of a royal mind! 
What gen'rous Greek, obedient to thy 

word. 
Shall form an ambush, or shall lift the 

sword ? 
What cause have I to war at thy decree ? 
The distant Trojans never injured me; 200 
To Phthia's realms no hostile troops they 

led ; 
Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed; 
Far hence remov'd, the hoarse-resounding 

main. 
And walls of rocks, secure my native reign. 
Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests 

grace, 
Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race. 
Hither we sail'd, a voluntary throng, 
T' avenge a private, not a public wrong: 
What else to Troy th' assembled nations 

draws. 
But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's 

cause? 210 

Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve, 
Disgraced and injured by the man we 

serve ? 
And darest thou threat to snatch my prize 

away, 
Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day ? 
A prize as small, O tyrant! match 'd with 

thine, 
As thy own actions if compared to mine. 
Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey, 
Tho' mine the sweat and danger of the day. 
Some trivial present to my ships I bear. 
Or barren praises pay the wounds of war. 
But know, proud Monarch, I 'm thy slave 

no more: 221 

My fleet shall waft me to Thessalia's shore. 
Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain. 
What spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides 

gain ? ' 
To this the King: 'Fly, mighty warriori 

.fly, 

Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy: 



There want not chiefs in such a cause to 

%ht, 
And Jove himself shall guard a Monarch's 

right. 
Of all the Kings (the Gods' distinguish'd 

care) 229 

To pow'r superior none such hatred bear; 
Strife and debate thy restless soul employ, 
And wars and horrors are thy savage joy. 
If thou hast strength, 't was Heav'u that 

strength bestow'd. 
For know, vain man! thy valour is from 

God. 
Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed 

away, 
Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway: 
I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate 
Thy short-lived friendship, and thy ground- 
less hate. 
Go, threat thy earth-born Myrmidons; but 

here 
'T is mine to threaten, Prince, and thine to 

fear. 240 

Know, if the God the beauteous dame da- 

mand, 
My bark shall waft her to her native land ; 
But then prepare, imperious Prince! pre- 
pare, 
Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive 

fair: 
Ev'n in thy tent I '11 seize the blooming 

prize, 
Thy loved Briseis, with the radiant eyes. 
Hence shalt thou prove my might, and 

curse the hour, 
Thou stood 'st a rival of imperial power; 
And hence to all our host it shall be known 
That Kings are subject to the Gods alone.' 
Achilles heard, with grief and rage op- 

press'd; 251 

His heart swell'd high, and labour'd in his 

breast. 
Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom 

ruled. 
Now fired by wrath, and now by reason 

cool'd: 
That prompts his hand to draw the deadly 

sword. 
Force thro' the Greeks, and pierce their 

haughty lord; 
This whispers soft, his vengeance to control, 
And calm the rising tempest of his soul. 
Just as in anguish of suspense be stay'd. 
While half unsheathed appear'd the glitt'r- 

ing blade, 260 



THE ILIAD 



20j 



Minerva swift descended from above, 
Sent by the sister and the wife of Jove 
(For both the princes claim'd her equal 

care) ; 
Behind she stood, and by the golden hair 
Achilles seized; to him alone confess'd, 
A sable cloud conceal'd her from the rest. 
He sees, and sudden to the Goddess cries 
(Known by the flames that sparkle from 

her eyes) : 

* Descends Minerva, in her guardian care, 
A heav'nly witness of the wrongs I bear 270 
From Atreus' son ? Then let those eyes 

that view 
The daring crime, behold the vengeance 
too.' 

* Forbear! ' (the progeny of Jove replies) 

* To calm thy fury I forsake the skies: 
Let great Achilles, to the Gods resign'd. 
To reason yield the empire o'er his mind. 
By awful Juno this command is giv'n; 
Tlie King and you are both the care of 

Heav'n. 
The force of keen reproaches let him feel. 
But sheathe, obedient, thy revenging steel. 
For I pronounce (and trust a heav'nly 

Power) 281 

Thy injured honour has its fated hour, 
When the proud monarch shall thy arms 

implore. 
And bribe thy friendship with a boundless 

store. 
Then let revenge no longer bear the sway. 
Command thy passions, and the Gods obey.' 

To her Pelides: 'With regardful ear, 
'Tis just, O Goddess! I thy dictates hear. 
Hard as it is, my "Vengeance I suppress: 
Those who revere the Gods, the Gods will 

bless.' 290 

He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid ; 
Then in the sheath return'd the shining 

blade. 
The Goddess swift to high Olympus flies, 
And joins the sacred senate of the skies. 
Nor yet the rage his boiling breast for- 
sook; 
Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke: 

* O monster! mix'd of insolence and fear. 
Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer! 
When wert thou known in ambush'd fights 

to dare. 
Or nobly face the horrid front of war ? 300 
'T is ours, the chance of fighting fields to 

try. 
Thine to look on, and bid the valiant die. 



So much 't is safer thro' the camp to go, 
And rob a subject, than despoil a foe. 
Scourge of thy people, violent and base! 
Sent in Jove's anger on a slavish race. 
Who, lost to sense of gen'rous freedom 

past. 
Are tanied to wrongs, or this had been thy 

last. 
Now by this sacred sceptre hear me swear, 
Which never more shall leaves or blossoms 

bear, 3 10 

Which, sever'd from the trunk (as I from 

thee) 
On the bare mountains left its parent tree; 
This sceptre, form'd by temper'd steel to 

prove 
An ensign of the delegates of Jove, 
From whom the power of laws and justice 

springs 
(Tremendous oath! inviolate to Kings): 
By this I swear, when bleeding Greece 

again 
Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain. 
When, flush'd with slaughter. Hector comes 

to spread 
The purpled shore with mountains of the 

dead, 320 

Then shalt thou mourn th' affront thy mad- 
ness gave. 
Forced to deplore, when impotent to save: 
Then rage in bitterness of soul, to know 
This act has made the bravest Greek thy 

foe.' 
He spoke; and furious hurl'd against 

the ground 
His sceptre starr'd with golden studs 

around ; 
Then sternly silent sat. With like disdain. 
The raging King return'd his frowns again. 
To calm their passion with the words 

of age, ^ 329 

Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage. 
Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skill'd; 
Words sweet as honey from his lips dis- 

till'd: 
Two generations now had pass'd away, 
Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway; 
Two ages o'er his native realm he reign'd, 
And now th' example of the third remain'd. 
All view'd with awe the venerable man; 
Who thus, with mild benevolence, began: 
' What shame, what woe is this to Greece ! 

what joy 
To Troy's proud monarch, and the friends 

of Troy! 340 



266 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



That adverse Gods commit to stern debate 
The best, the bravest of the Grecian state. 
Young as you are, this youthful heat re- 
strain, 
Nor think your Nestor's years and wisdom 

vain. 
A godlike race of heroes once I knew. 
Such as no more these aged eyes shall view! 
Lives there a chief to match Pirithous' 

fame, 
Dryas the bold, or Ceneus' deathless name; 
Theseus, endued with more than mortal 

might, ^ 349 

Or Polyphemus, like the Gods in fight ? 
With these of old to toils of battle bred, 
In early youth my hardy days I led; 
Fired with the thirst which virtuous envy 

breeds, 
And smit with love of honourable deeds. 
Strongest of men, they pierc'd the moun-" 

tain boar, 
Ranged the wild deserts red with mon 

sters' gore, [ 

And from their hills the shaggy Centaurs 

tore. J 

Yet these with soft persuasive arts I sway'd; 
When Nestor spoke, they listen'd and 

obey'd. 
If in my youth, ev'n these esteem'd me 

wise, 360 

Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise. 
Atrides, seize not on the beauteous slave; 
That prize the Greeks by common suffrage 

gave: 
Nor thou, Achilles, treat our Prince with 

pride; 
Let Kings be just; and sov'reign power 

preside. 
Thee, the first honours of the war adorn, 
Like Gods in strength, and of a Goddess 

born; 
Him, awful majesty exalts above 
The powers of earth, and sceptred sons of 

Jove. 369 

Let both unite with well-consenting mind. 
So shall authority with strength be join'd. 
Leave me, O King! to calm Achilles' rage; 
Rule thou thyself, as more advanced in age. 
Forbid it, Gods! Achilles shonld be lost, 
The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our 

host.' 
This said, he ceas'd: the King of Men 

replies: 
* Thy years are awful, and thy words are 

wise. 



But that imperious, that unconquer'd soul, 
No laws can limit, no respect control: 
Before his pride must his superiors fall, 3S0 
His word the law, and he the lord of all ? 
Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself, 

obey ? 
What King can bear a rival in his sway ? 
Grant that the Gods his matchless force 

have giv'n; 
Has foul reproach a privilege from 

Heav'n ? ' 
Here on the Monarch's speech Achilles 

broke. 
And furious, thus, and interrupting, spoke: 
* Tyrant, I well deserv'd thy galling chain. 
To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain, 
Should I submit to each unjust decree: 390 
Command thy vassals, but command not 

me. 
Seize on Briseis, whom the Grecians doom'd 
My prize of war, j-et tamely see resumed; 
And seize secure; no more Achilles draws 
His conquering sword in any woman's 

cause. 
The Gods command me to forgive the past; 
But let this first invasion be the last: 
For know, thy blood, when next thou darest 

invade. 
Shall stream in vengeance on my reeking 

blade.' 
At this they ceas'd; the stern debate ex- 
pired : 400 
The Chiefs in sullen majesty retired. 

Achilles with Patroclus took his way. 
Where near his tents his hollow vessels lay. 
Meantime Atrides launch'd with numerous 

oars 
A well - rigg'd ship for Chrysa's sacred 

shores: 
High on the deck was fair Chryseis placed, 
And sage Ulvsses with the conduct graced: 
Safe in her sides the hecatomb they stow'd, 
Then, swiftly sailing, cut the liquid road. 
The host to expiate, next the King pre- 
pares, 410 
With pure lustrations and with solenm 

prayers. 
Wash'd by the briny wave, the pious train 
Are cleans'd; and cast th' ablutions in the 

main. 
Along the shores whole hecatombs were 

laid, 
And bulls and goats to Phoebus' altars paid. 
The sable fumes in curling spires arise. 
And waft their grateful odours to the skies. 



THE ILIAD 



267 



The army thus in sacred rites engaged, 
Atrides still with deep resentment raged. 
To wait his will two sacred heralds stood, 
Talthybius and Eurybates the good, 421 
*Haste to the fierce Achilles' tent' (he cries), 
' Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize : 
Submit he must; or, if they will not part, 
Ourself in arms shall tear her from his 
heart.' 
Th' unwilling heralds act their lord's 
commands ; 
Pensive they walk along the barren sands: 
Arrived, the hero in his tent they find, 
With gloomy aspect, on his arm reclin'd. 
At awful distance long they silent stand, 430 
Loth to advance, or speak their hard com- 
mand ; 
Decent confusion! This the godlike man 
Perceiv'd, and thus with accent mild be- 
gan: 
' With leave and honour enter our 
abodes. 
Ye sacred ministers of men and Gods! 
I know your message; by constraint you 

came ; 
Not you, but your imperious lord, I blame. 
Patroclus, haste, the fair Briseis bring; 
Conduct my captive to the haughty King. 
But witness, Heralds, and proclaim my 
vow, 440 

Witness to Gods above, and men below! 
But first, and loudest, to your Prince de- 
clare. 
That lawless tyrant whose commands you 

bear; 
Unmov'd as death Achilles shall remain. 
The' prostrate Greece should bleed at 

ev'ry vein: 
The raging Chief in frantic passion lost. 
Blind to himself, and useless to his host, 
Unskill'd to judge the future by the past. 
In blood and slaughter shall repent at last.' 
Patroclus now th' unwilling beauty 
brought; 450 

She, in soft sorrows, and in pensive thought, 
Pass'd silent, as the heralds held her hand. 
And oft look'd back, slow-moving o'er the 
strand. 
Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore; 
But sad retiring to the sounding shore, 
O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung, 
That kindred deep from whence his mother 

sprung; 
There, bathed in tears of anger and disdain, 
Thus loud lamented to the stormy main; 



'O parent Goddess! since in early bloom 
Thy son must fall, by too severe a doom; 
Sure, to so short a race of glory born, 462 
Great Jove in justice should this span 

adorn. 
Honour and Fame at least the Thund'rer 

owed; 
And ill he pays the promise of a God, 
If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies. 
Obscures my glories, and resumes my 

prize.' 
Far in the deep recesses of the main. 
Where aged Ocean holds his wat'ry reign. 
The Goddess-mother heard. The waves 

divide; 470 

And like a mist she rose above the tide; 
Beheld him mourning on the naked shores. 
And thus the sorrows of his soul explores: 
' Why grieves my son ? thy anguish let me 

share, 
Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's care.* 
He deeply sighing said: 'To tell my woe. 
Is but to mention what too well you know. 
From Thebe, sacred to Apollo's name 
(Eetion's realm), our conquering army 

came. 
With treasure loaded and triumphant 

spoils, 480 

Whose just division crown'd the soldier's 

toils; 
But bright Chryseis, heav'nly prize! was 

led 
By vote selected to the gen'ral's bed. 
The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to 

gain 
His beauteous daughter from the victor's 

chain ; 
The fleet he reach'd, and, lowly bending 

down. 
Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown. 
Entreating all; but chief implor'd for 

grace 
The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race: 
The gen'rous Greeks their joint consent 

declare, 490 

The Priest to rev'rence, and release the 

Fair. 
Not so Atrides: he, with wonted pride, 
The sire insulted, and his gifts denied: 
Th' insulted sire (his God's peculiar care) 
To Phoebus pray'd, and Phoebus heard the 

prayer : 
A dreadful plague ensues; th* avenging 

darts 
Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts, 



268 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



A prophet then, inspired by Heav'n, arose, 
And points the crime, and thence derives 

the woes: 
Myself the first th' assembled chiefs in- 
cline 500 
T' avert the vengeance of the Power di- 
vine; 
Then, rising in his wrath, the Monarch 

storm'd; 
Incens'd he threaten'd, and his threats per- 

f orm'd : 
The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent, 
With offer'd gifts to make the God relent; 
But now he seized Briseis' heav'nly charms, 
And of my valour's prize defrauds my 

arms. 
Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train; 
And Service, Faith, and Justice, plead in 

vain. 
But, Goddess! thou thy suppliant son at- 
tend, 510 
To high Olympus' shining court ascend, 
Urge all the ties to former service owed. 
And sue for vengeance to the thund'ring 

God. 
Oft hast thou triumph'd in the glorious 

boast 
That thou stood'st forth, of all th' ethereal 

host, 
When bold rebellion shook the realms 

above, 
Th' undaunted guard of cloud-compelling 

Jove. 
When the bright partner of his awful 

reign. 
The warlike maid, and Monarch of the 

Main, 
The Traitor-gods, by mad ambition driv'n. 
Durst threat with chains th' omnipotence 

of Heav'n, 521 

Then call'd by thee, the monster Titan 

came 
(Whom Gods Briareus, men ^geon name); 
Thro' wond'ring skies enormous stalk' d 

along; 
Not he that shakes the solid earth so 

strong: 
With giant pride at Jove's high throne he 

stands, 
And brandish'd round him all his hundred 

hands. 
Th' affrighted Gods confess'd their awful 

lord. 
They dropp'd the fetters, trembled and 

adored. 



This, Goddess, this to his rememb'rauce 

call, 530 

Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall; 
Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train, 
To hurl them headlong to their fleet and 

main. 
To heap the shores with copious death,^and 

bring 
The Greeks to know the curse of such a 

King: 
Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head 
O'er all his wide dominion of the dead, 
And mourn in blood, that e'er he durst dis- 
grace 
The boldest warrior of the Grecian race.' 
' Unhappy son! ' (fair Thetis thus ve\ 

plies, 54o\ 

While tears celestial trickle from her' 

eyes) 
* Why have I borne thee with a mother's 

throes. 
To fates averse, and nurs'd for future 

woes ? 
So short a space the light of Heav'n to 

view! 
So short a space! and fill'd with sorrow 

too! 
O might a parent's careful wish prevail, 
Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail. 
And thou, from camps remote, the danger 

shun. 
Which now, alas! too nearly threats my 

son. 
Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I '11 

go ^ 550 

To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy 

snow. 
Meantime, secure within thy ships from 

far 
Behold the field, nor mingle in the war. 
The Sire of Gods, and all th' ethereal train, 
On the warm limits of the farthest main. 
Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to 

grace 
The feasts of Ethiopia's blameless race: 
Twelve days the Powers indulge the genial 

rite. 
Returning with the twelfth revolving light. 
Then will 1 mount the brazen dome, and 

move 560 

The high tribunal of immortal Jove.' 

The Goddess spoke: the rolling waves 

unclose ; 
Then down the deep she plunged, from 

whence she rose, 



THE ILIAD 



269 



And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast 
In wild resentment for the Fair he lost. 

In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses rode; 
Beneath the deck the destin'd victims 

stow'd: 
The sails they furl'd, they lash'd the mast 

aside, 
And dropp'd their anchors, and the pinnace 

tied. 
Next on the shore their hecatomb they 

land, 570 

Chryseis last descending on the strand. 
Her, thus returning from the furrow'd 

main, 
Ulysses led to Phcebus' sacred fane; 
Where at his solemn altar, as the maid 
He gave to Chryses, thus the hero said: 

* Hail, rev'rend Priest! to Phcebus' awful 

dome 
A suppliant I from great Atrides come: 
Unransom'd here receive the spotless Fair; 
Accept the hecatomb the Greeks prepare; 
And may thy God who scatters darts 

around, 580 

Atoned by sacrifice, desist to wound.' 

At this the sire embraced the maid again. 
So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain. 
Then near the altar of the darting King 
Disposed in rank their hecatomb they 

bringf: 
With water purify their hands, and take 
The sacred off'ring of the salted cake; 
While thus with arms devoutly raised in 

air. 
And solemn voice, the priest directs his 

prayer : 

* God of the Silver Bow, thy ear in- 

cline, 590 

Whose power encircles Cilia the divine; 

Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys. 

And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguish'd 
rays! 

If, fired to vengeance at thy priest's re- 
quest, 

Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest; 

Once more attend! avert the wasteful woe, 

And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow.' 
So Chryses pray'd, Apollo heard his 
prayer : 

And now the Greeks their hecatomb pre- 
pare; 

Be Ween their horns the salted barley 
threw, 600 

And with their heads to Heav'n the victims 
slew: 



The limbs they sever from th' inclosing 

hide; 
The thighs, selected to the Gods, divide: 
On these, in double cauls involv'd with 

art. 
The choicest morsels lay from every part. 
The priest himself before his altar stands, 
And burns the off'ring with his holy hands, 
Pours the black wine, and sees the flames 

aspire ; 
The youths with instruments surround the 

fire: 
The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails 

drest, 610 

Th' assistants part, transfix, and roast the 

rest: 
Then spread the tables, the repast prepare. 
Each takes his seat, and each receives his 

share. 
When now the rage of hunger was re- 

press'd, 
With pure libations they conclude the 

feast: 
The youths with wine the copious goblets 

crown'd. 
And, pleas'd, dispense the flowing bowls 

around. 
With hymns divine the joyous banquet 

ends, 
The Pseans lengthen'd till the sun de- 
scends: 
The Greeks, restor'd, the grateful notes 

prolong: 620 

Apollo listens, and approves the song. 
'T was night; the chiefs beside their 

vessel lie. 
Till rosy morn had purpled o'er the sky: 
Then launch, and hoist the mast; indulgent 

gales. 
Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails; 
The milk-white canvas bellying as they 

blow. 
The parted ocean foams and roars below: 
Above the bounding billows swift they 

flew. 
Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in 

view. 
Far on the beach they haul their barks to 

land, 630 

(The crooked keel divides the yellow 

sand), 
Then part, where stretch 'd along the wind- 
ing bay 
The ships and tents in mingled prospect 

lay. 



270 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



But, raging still, amidst his navy sate 
The stern Achilles, steadfast in his hate ; 
Nor mix'd in combat, nor in council join'd; 
But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind: 
In his black thoughts revenge and slaugh- 
ter roll, 
And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his 

soul. 
Twelve days were past, and now the 

dawning light 640 

The Gods had summon'd to th' Olympian 

height: 
Jove, first ascending from the wat'ry 

bowers, 
Leads the long order of ethereal Powers. 
When like the morning mist, in early day, 
Rose from the flood the Daughter of the 

Sea; 
And to the seats divine her flight ad- 

dress'd. 
There, far apart, and high above the rest, 
The Thund'rer sat; where old Olympus 

shrouds 
His hundred heads in Heav'n, and props 

the clouds. 
Suppliant the Goddess stood: one hand she 

placed 650 

Beneath his beard, and one his knees em- 
braced. 
* If e'er, O father of the Gods! ' she said, 
' My words could please thee, or my actions 

aid; 
Some marks of honour on thy son bestow, 
And pay in glory what in life you owe. 
Fame is at least by heav'nly promise due 
To life so short, and now dishonour'd too. 
Avenge this wrong, oh ever just and wise! 
Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans 

rise; 
Till the proud King, and all th' Achaian 

race 660 

Shall heap with honours him they now dis- 
grace.' 
Thus Thetis spoke, but Jove in silence 

held 
The sacred councils of his breast conceal'd. 
Not so repuls'd, the Goddess closer press'd, 
Still grasp'd his knees, and urged the dear 

request. 
*0 Sire of Gods and men! thy suppliant 

hear. 
Refuse, or grant; for what has Jove to 

fear? 
Or, oh! declare, of all the Powers above, 
Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove ? ' 



She said, and sighing thus the God re- 
plies, 670 
Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted 

skies: 
* What hast thou ask'd ? Ah, why should 

Jove engage 
In foreign contests, and domestic rage, 
The Gods' complaints, and Juno's fierce 

alarms. 
While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms ? 
Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway 
With jealous eyes thy close access survey; 
But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped: 
Witness the sacred honours of our head. 
The nod that ratifies the will divine, 680 
The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable sign; 
This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy 

vows — ' 
He spoke, and awful bends his sable brows, 
Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the 

nod; 
The stamp of Fate, and sanction of the 

God: 
High Heav'n with trembling the dread sig- 
nal took. 
And all Olympus to the centre shook. 
Swift to the seas profound the Goddess 

flies, 
Jove to his starry mansion in the skies. 689 
The shining Synod of th' Immortals wait 
The coming God, and from their thrones 

of state 
Arising silent, rapt in holy fear, 
Before the Majesty of Heav'n appear. 
Trembling they stand, while Jove assumes 

the throne. 
All, but the God's imperious Queen alone: 
Late had she view'd the silver - footed 

dame, 
And all her passions kindled into flame. 
' Say, artful manager of Heav'n' (she cries), 
' Who now partakes the secrets of the 

skies ? 
Thy Juno knows not the decrees of Fate, 700 
In vain the partner of imperial state. 
What fav'rite Goddess then those cares 

divides. 
Which Jove in prudence from his consort 

hides ? ' 
To this the Thund'rer: ' Seek not thou 

to find 
The sacred counsels of almighty mind: 
Involved in darkness lies the great decree, 
Nor can the depths of Fate be piexc'd by 

thee. 



THE ILIAD 



271 



What fits thy knowledge, thou the first 

shalt know: 
The first of Gods above and men below: 
But thou, nor they, shall search the 



thouffhts that roll 



710 



Deep in the close recesses of my soul.' 

Full on the Sire, the Goddess of the skies 
RolI'd the large orbs of her majestic eyes. 
And thus retura'd: * Austere Saturnius, 

say. 
From whence tliis wrath, or who controls 

thy sway ? 
Thy boundless will, for me, remains in 

force, 
And all thy counsels take the destin'd 

course. 
But 'tis for Greece I fear: for late was 

seen 
In close consult the Silver-footed Queen. 
Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny, 720 
Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky. 
What fatal favour has the Goddess won, 
To grace her fierce inexorable son ? 
Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the 

plain. 
And glut his vengeance with my people 

slain.' 
Then thus the God: * Oh restless fate of 

pride. 
That strives to learn what Heav'n resolves 

to hide; 
Vain is the search, presumptuous and 

abhorr'd, 
Anxious to thee, and odious to thy Lord. 
Let this suffice: th' immutable decree 730 
No force can shake: what is, that ought to 

be. 
Goddess, submit, nor dare our will with- 
stand, 
But dread the power of this avenging hand; 
Th' united strength of all the Gods above 
In vain resist th' omnipotence of Jove.' 
The Thund'rer spoke, nor durst the 

Queen reply; 
A rev'rend horror silenced all the sky. 
The feast disturb'd, with sorrow Vulcan 

saw 
His mother menaced, and the Gods in awe ; 
Peace at his heart, and pleasure his design. 
Thus interposed the architect divine: 741 
*The wretched quarrels of the mortal state 
Are far unworthy, Gods! of your debate: 
Let men their days in senseless strife em- 
ploy, 
We, in eternal peace, and constant joy. 



Thou, Goddess-mother, with our sire com- 
ply* 
Nor break the sacred union of the sky: 

Lest, rous'd to rage, he shake the blest 
abodes. 

Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the 
Gods. 

If you submit, the Thund'rer stands ap- 
peas'd; 750 

The gracious Power is willing to be 
pleas'd.' 
Thus Vulcan spoke; and, rising with a 
bound. 

The double bowl with sparkling nectar 
crown'd, 

Which held to Juno in a cheerful way, 

' Goddess ' (he cried), ' be patient and obey. 

Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend, 

I can but grieve, unable to defend. 

What God so daring in your aid to move, 

Or lift his hand against the force of Jove ? 

Once in your cause I felt his matchless 
might, 760 

Hurl'd headlong downward from th' ethe- 
real height; 

Toss'd all tlie day in rapid circles round; 

Nor, till the sun descended, touch'd the 
ground: 

Breathless I fell, in giddy motion lost; 

The Sinthians rais'd me on the Lemnian 
coast.' 
He said, and to her hands the goblet 
heav'd. 

Which, with a smile, the white-arm'd Queen 
receiv'd. 

Then to the rest he fill'd; and, in his 
turn. 

Each to his lips applied the nectar'd urn. 

Vulcan with awkward grace his office 
plies, 770 

And unextinguish'd laughter shakes the 
skies. 
Thus the blest Gods the genial day pro- 
long, 

In feasts ambrosial, and celestial song. 

Apollo tuned the lyre; the Muses round 

With voice alternate aid the silver sound. 

Meantime the radiant sun, to mortal sight 

Descending swift, roll'd down the rapid 
light. 

Then to their starry domes the Gods de- 
part, 

The shining monuments of Vulcan's art: 

Jove on his couch reclin'd his awful head. 

And Juno slumber'd on the golden bed. 781 



272 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



BOOK II 

THE TRIAL OF THE ARMY AND CATALOGUE 
OF THE FORCES 

THE ARGUMENT 

Jupiter, in pursuance of the request of Thetis, 
sends a deceitful vision to Ag-amemnon, per- 
suading him to lead the army to battle ; in 
order to make the Greeks sensible of their 
want of Achilles. The general, who is de- 
luded with the hopes of taking Troy without 
his assistance, but fears the army was dis- 
couraged by his absence and the late plague, 
as well as by length of time, contrives to 
make trial of their disposition by a strata- 
gem. He first communicates his design to 
the Princes in council, that he would propose 
a return to the soldiers, and that they should 
put a stop to them if the proposal was em- 
braced. Then he assembles the whole host, 
and upon moving for a return to Greece, they 
unanimously agree to it, and run to prepare 
the ships. They are detained by the manage- 
ment of Ulysses, who chastises the insolence 
of Thersites. The assembly is recalled, sev- 
eral speeches made on the occasion, and 
at length the advice of Nestor followed, 
which was to make a general muster of the 
troops, and to divide them into their sev- 
eral nations, before they proceeded to battle. 
This gives occasion to the poet to enumerate 
all the forces of the Greeks and Trojans, in a 
large catalogue. 

The time employed in this book consists not 
entirely of one day. The scene lies in the 
Grecian camp and upon the seashore ; to- 
ward the end it removes to Troy. 

Now pleasing^leep had seal'd each mortal 

eye, 
Stretch'd in the tents the Grecian leaders 

lie, 
Th' immortal slumber'd on their thrones 

above ; 
All but the ever-wakeful eyes of Jove. 
To honour Thetis' son he bends his care, 
And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of 

war: 
Then bids an empty Phantom rise to sight, 
And thus commands the Vision of the 

night : 
* Fly hence, deluding Dream ! and, light 

as air. 
To Agamemnon's ample tent repair. 10 

Bid him in arms draw forth th' embattled 

train, 
Lead all his Grecians to the dusty plain. 



Declare, ev'n now 't is given him to destroy 
The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. 
For now no more the Gods with Fate con- 
tend. 
At Juno's suit the heav'uly factions end. 
Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall, 
And nodding Iliou waits th' impending 
fall.' 
Swift as the word the vain Illusion fled, 
Descends, and hovers o'er Atrides' head ; 20 
Clothed in the figure of the Pylian sage, 
lienown'd for wisdom, and revered for 

age; 
Around his temples spreads his golden 

wing. 
And thus the flatt'ring Dream deceives the 
King: 
' Canst thou, with all a Monarch's cares 
oppress'd, 
O Atreus' sou ! canst thou indulge thy 

rest? 
Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides, 
Directs in council, and in war presides. 
To whom its safety a whole people owes. 
To waste long nights in indolent repose. 30 
Monarch, awake! 'tis Jove's command I 

bear, 
Thou and thy glory claim his heav'uly 

care. 
In just array draw forth th' embattled train, 
Lead all thy Grecians to the dust}' plain; 
Ev'n now, O King! 'tis given thee to de- 
stroy 
The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. 
For now no more the Gods with Fate con- 
tend, 
At Juno's suit the heav'uly factions end. 
Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall, 
And nodding llion waits th' impending 
fall, 40 

Awake, but, waking, this advice approve. 
And trust the vision that descends from 
Jove.' 
The Phantom said; then vanish'd from 
his sight, 
Resolves to air, and mixes with the night. 
A thousand schemes the Monarch's mind 

employ ; 
Elate in thought, he sacks untaken Troy; 
Vain as he was, and to the future blind; 
Nor saw what Jove and secret Fate de- 

sign'd ; 
What mighty toils to either host remain, 
What scenes of grief, and numbers of the 
slain! 50 



THE ILIAD 



273 



Eager he rises, and in fancy hears 
The voice celestial murni'ring in his ears. 
First on his limbs a slender vest he drew, 
Around him next the regal mantle threw, 
Th' embroider'd sandals on his feet were 

tied ; 
The starry falchion glitter'd at his side: 
And last his arm tlie massy sceptre loads, 
Unstain'd, immortal, and the gift of Gods. 
Now rosy Morn ascends the court of 
Jove, 
Lifts up her light, and opens day above. 60 
The King dispatcli'd his heralds with com- 
mands 
To range the camp and summon all the 

bands: 
The gath'ring hosts the Monarch's word 

obey ; 
While to the fleet Atrides bends his way. 
In his black ship the Pylian Prince he 

found ; 
There calls a senate of the peers around: 
Th' assembly placed, the King of Men ex- 

press'd 
The counsels lab'ring in his artful breast: 
* Friends and conf ed'rates ! with atten- 
tive ear 
Receive my words, and credit what you 
hear. 70 

Late as I slumber'd in the shades of night, 
A Dream divine appear'd before my sight; 
Whose visionary form like Nestor came. 
The same in habit, and in mien the same. 
The heav'nly Phantom hover'd o'er my 

head, 
And, "Dost thou sleep, O Atreus' son?" 

(he said) 
" 111 fits a chief who mighty nations guides. 
Directs in council, and in war presides. 
To whom its safety a whole people owes, 
To waste long nights in indolent repose. 80 
Monarch, awake! *t is Jove's command I 

bear. 
Thou and thy glory claim his heav'nly care ; 
In just array draw forth th' embattled train. 
And lead the Grecians to the dusty plain. 
Ev'n now, O King! 't is giv'n thee to de- 
stroy 
The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy. 
For now no more the Gods with Fate con- 
tend, 
At Juno's suit the heav'nly factions end. 
Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall. 
And nodding Ilion waits th' impending 
fall. go 



This hear observant, and the Gods obey!" 
Tlie Vision spoke, and pass'd in air away. 
Now, valiant chiefs! since Heav'n itself 

alarms. 
Unite, and rouse the sons of Greece to 

arms. 
But first, with caution, try what yet they 

dare. 
Worn with nine years of unsuccessful war. 
To move the troops to measure back the 

main. 
Be mine; and yours the province to detain.' 
He spoke, and sat; when Nestor rising 

said 
(Nestor, whom Pylos' sandy realms 

obey'd) : 100 

* Princes of Greece, your faithful ears in- 
cline. 
Nor doubt the Vision of the Powers divine; 
Sent by great Jove to him who rules the 

host. 
Forbid it, Heav'n! this warning should be 

lost! 
Then let us haste, obey the God's alarms. 
And join to rouse the sons of Greece to 

arms.' 
Thus spoke the sage: the Kings without 

delay 
Dissolve the council, and their Chief obey: 
The sceptred rulers lead; the foU'wing 

host, 
Pour'd forth by thousands, darkens all the 

coast. , no 

As from some rocky cleft the shepherd 

sees 
Clust'ring in heaps on heaps the driving 

bees. 
Rolling and black'ning, swarms succeeding 

swarms 
With deeper murmurs and more hoarse 

alarms; 
Dusky they spread, a close - embodied 

crowd. 
And o'er the vale descends the living 

cloud. 
So, from the tents and ships, a length'ning 

train 
Spreads all the beach, and wide o'ershades 

the plain; 
Along the region runs a deaf'ning sound; 
Beneath their footsteps groans the trem- 
bling ground. 120 
Fame flies before, the messenger of Jove, 
And shining soars, and claps her wings 

above. 



274 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Nine sacred heralds now proclaiming loud 
The Monarch's will, suspend the list'ning 

crowd. 
Soon as the throngs in order ranged ap- 
pear, 
And fainter murmurs died upon the ear, 
The King of Kings his awful figure raised; 
High in his hand the golden sceptre blazed: 
The golden sceptre, of celestial frame. 
By Vulcan form'd, from Jove to Hermes 

came: 130 

To Pelops he th' immortal gift resign'd; 
Th' immortal gift great Pelops left behind, 
In Atreus' hand, which not with Atreus 

ends, 
To rich Thyestes next the prize descends; 
And now, the mark of Agamemnon's reign, 
Subjects all Argos, and controls the main. 
On this briglit sceptre now the King re- 

clin'd, 
And artful thus pronounced the speech de- 

sign'd ; 
*Ye sons of Mars! partake your leader's 

care. 
Heroes of Greece, and brothers of the war! 
Of partial Jove with justice I complain, 141 
And heav'nly oracles belie v'd in vain. 
A safe return was promis'd to our toils, 
Renown'd, triumphant, and enrich'd with 

spoils. 
Now shameful flight alone can save the 

host, 
Our blood, our treasure, and our glory lost. 
So Jove decrees, resistless Lord of all! 
At whose command whole empires rise or 

fall: 
He shakes the feeble props of human trust. 
And towns and armies humbles to the dust. 
What shame to Greece a fruitless war to 

wage, 151 

Oh lasting shame in ev'ry future age! 
Once great in arms, the common scorn we 

grow, 
Repuls'd and baffled by a feeble foe. 
So small their number, that, if wars were 

ceas'd, 
And Greece triumphant held a gen'ral 

feast, 
All rank'd by tens; whole decades, when 

they dine. 
Must want a Trojan slave to pour the wine. 
But other forces have our hopes o'er- 

thrown, 
And Troy prevails by armies not her 

own. 160 



Now nine long years of mighty Jove are 

run, 
Since first the labours of this war begun; 
Our cordage torn, decay'd our vessels lie, 
And scarce ensure the wretched power to 

fly. 

Haste then, for ever leave the Trojan wall! 
Our weeping wives, our tender children 

call; 
Love, Duty, Safety, summon us away, 
'T is Nature's voice, and Nature we obey. 
Our shatter'd barks may yet transport us 

o'er, 
Safe and inglorious, to our native shore. 170 
Fly, Grecians, fly! your sails and oars em- 

pioy» 

And dream no more of Heav'n-defended 
Troy.' 
His deep design unknown, the hosts ap- 
prove 

Atrides' speech. The mighty numbers 
move. 

So roll the billows to th' Icarian shore, 

From east and south when winds begin to 
roar. 

Burst their dark mansions in the clouds, 
and sweep 

The whitening surface of the ruffled deep: 

And as on corn when western gusts de- 
scend. 

Before the blast the lofty harvests bend ; 180 

Thus o'er the field the moving host appears, 

With nodding plumes and groves of wav- 
ing spears, 

The gath'ring murmur spreads, their tram- 
pling feet 

Beat the loose sands, and thicken to the 
fleet. 

With long-resounding cries they urge the 
train 

To fit the ships, and launch into the main. 

They toil, they sweat, thick clouds of dust 
arise, 

The doubling clamours echo thro' the 
skies. 

Ev'n then the Greeks had left the hostile 
plain, 

And Fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain; 

But Jove's imperial Queen their flight sur- 
vey 'd, 191 

And sighing thus bespoke the blue-eyed 
maid: 
* Shall then the Grecians fly ? O dire dis- 
grace ! 

And leave unpunish'd this perfidious race 7 



THE ILIAD 



275 



Shall Troy, shall Priam, and the adult'rous 
spouse, 

In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows ? 

And bravest chiefs, in Helen's quarrel slain, 

Lie unavenged on yon detested plain ? 

No: let my Greeks, unmov'd by vain 
alarms, 

Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms. 

Haste, Goddess, haste! the flying host de- 
tain, 201 

Nor let one sail be hoisted on the main.' 
Pallas obeys, and from Olympus' height 

Swift to the ships precipitates her flight; 

Ulysses, first in public cares, she found, 

For prudent counsel like the Gods renown'd; 

Oppress'd with gen'rous grief the hero 
stood ; 

Nor drew his sable vessels to the flood. 

* And is it thus, divine Laertes' son! 
Thus fly the Greeks ? ' (the Martial Maid 

begun) 210 

* Thus to their country bear their own dis- 

grace, 

And Fame eternal leave to Priam's race ? 

Shall beauteous Helen still remain unfreed. 

Still unrevenged a thousand heroes bleed ? 

Haste, gen'rous Ithacus! prevent the 
shame, 

Recall your armies, and your chiefs re- 
claim. 

Your own resistless eloquence employ. 

And to th' immortals trust the fall of 

The voice divine confess'd the Warlike 

Maid, 
Ulysses heard, nor uninspired obey'd: 220 
Then, meeting first Atrides, from his hand 
Receiv'd th' imperial sceptre of command. 
Thus graced, attention and respect to gain. 
He runs, he flies thro' all the Grecian 

train, 
Each Prince of name, or Chief in arms 

approv'd, 
He fired with praise, or with persuasion 

mov'd: 
* Warriors like you, with strength and 

wisdom blest, 
By brave examples should confirm the 

rest. 
The JMonarch's will not yet reveal'd ap- 
pears ; 
He tries our courage, but resents our 

fears. 230 

Th' unwary Greeks his fury may provoke; 
Not thus the King in secret council spoke. 



Jove loves our Chief, from Jove his honour 

springs. 
Beware! for dreadful is the wrath of 

Kings.' 
But if a clam'rous vile plebeian rose, 
Him with reproof he check'd or tamed 

with blows. 
* Be still, thou slave, and to thy betters 

yield; 
Unknown alike in council and in field: 
Ye Gods, what dastards would our host 

command ? 23^9 

Swept to the war, the number of a land. 
Be silent, wretch, and think not here 

allow'd 
That worst of tyrants, an usurping crowd. 
To one sole monarch Jove commits the 

sway; 
His are the laws, and him let all obey.' 
With words like these the troops Ulysses 

ruled, 
The loudest silenc'd, and the fiercest cool'd. 
Back to th' assembly roll the thronging 

train. 
Desert the ships, and pour upon the plain. 
Murm'ring they move, as when old Ocean 

roars. 
And heaves huge surges to the trembling 

shores: 250 

The groaning banks are burst with bellow- 
ing sound. 
The rocks remurmur, and the deeps re- 
bound. 
At length the tumult sinks, the noises cease. 
And a still silence lulls the camp to peace. 
Thersites only clamour'd in the throng. 
Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue: 
Awed by no shame, by no respect con- 

troll'd, 
In scandal busy, in reproaches bold; 
With witty malice studious to defame; 259 
Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim. 
But chief he gloried with licentious style 
To lash the great, and monarchs to revile. 
His fignre such as might his soul pro- 
claim: 
One eye was blinking, and one leg was 

lame : 
His mountain-shoulders half his breast 

o'erspread; 
Thin hairs bestrew'd his long misshapen 

head. 
Spleen to mankind his envious heart 

possess'd, 
And much he hated all, but most the best. 



276 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Ulysses or Achilles still his theme; 

But royal scandal his delight supreme. 270 

Long had he lived the scorn of ev'ry 

Greek; 
Vex'd when he spoke, yet still they heard 

him speak. 
Sharp was his voice; which, in the shrillest 

tone. 
Thus with injurious taunts attack'd the 

throne : 
* Amidst the glories of so bright a reign, 
What moves the great Atrides to com- 
plain ? 
'T is thine whate'er the warrior's breast 

inflames, 
The golden spoil, and thine the lovely 

dames. 
With all the wealth our wars and blood 

bestow. 
Thy tents are crowded, and thy chests 

o'erflow. 280 

Thus at full ease, in heaps of riches roll'd, 
What grieves the Monarch ? Is it thirst of 

gold? 
Say, shall we march with our unconquer'd 

powers 
(The Greeks and I), to Ilion's hostile 

towers. 
And bring the race of royal bastards here. 
For Troy to ransom at a price too dear ? 
But safer plunder thy own host supplies; 
Say, wouldst thou seize some valiant lead- 
er's prize ? 
Or, if thy heart to gen'rous love be led. 
Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly 

bed ? 290 

Whate'er our master craves, submit we 

must. 
Plagued with his pride, or punish'd for his 

lust. 
Oh, women of Achaia! men no more! 
Hence let us fly, and let him waste his 

store 
In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian 

shore. 

We may be wanted on some busy day. 
When Hector comes: so great Achilles 

may: 
From him be forced the prize we jointly 

gave, 
From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the 

brave : 
And durst he, as he ought, resent that 

wrong, 300 

This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long.' 



Fierce from his seat, at this, Ulysses 

springs 
In gen'rous vengeance of the King of Kings. 
With indignation sparkling in his eyes. 
He views the wretch, and sternly thus re- 
plies: 
'Peace, factious monster! born to vex 

the state, 
With wrangling talents form'd for foul de- 
bate: 
Curb that impetuous tongue, nor, rashly 

vain 
And singly mad, asperse the sov'reign reign. 
Have we not known thee. Slave! of all our 

host, 310 

The man who acts the least, upbraids the 

most ? 
Think not the Greeks to shameful flight to 

bring, 
Nor let those lips profane the name of 

King. 
For our return we trust the heav'uly 

powers ; 
Be that their care; to fight like men be 

ours. 
But grant the host with wealth the gen'ral 

load. 
Except detraction, what hast thou be- 

stow'd ? 
Suppose some hero should his spoils resign, 
Art thou that hero, could those spoils be 

thine ? 319 

Gods! let me perish on this hateful shore. 
And let these eyes behold my son no more; 
If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear 
To strip those arms thou ill deserv'st to 

wear. 
Expel the council where our Princes meet, 
And send thee scourged, and howling 

thro' the fleet.' 
He said, and cow'ring as the dastard 

bends. 
The weighty sceptre on his back descends, 
On the round bunch the bloody tumours 

rise; 
The tears spring starting from his haggard 

eyes: 
Trembling he sat, and, shrunk in abject 

fears, 330 

From his vile visage wiped the scalding 

tears. 
While to his neighbour each express'd his 

thought: 
'Ye Gods! what wonders has Ulysses 

wrought! 



THE ILIAD 



277 



What fruits his conduct and his courage 

yield, 
Great in the council, glorious in the field! 
Gen'rous he rises in the Crown's defence, 
To curb the factious tongue of insolence. 
Such just examples on offenders shewn 
Sedition silence, and assert the throne.' 
'T was thus the gen'ral voice the hero 

praised 340 

Who, rising high, th' imperial sceptre 

rais'd: 
The blue-eyed Pallas, his celestial friend 
(In form a herald), bade the crowds at- 
tend; 
Th' expecting crowds in still attention 

hung, 
To hear the wisdom of his heav'nly tongue. 
Then, deeply thoughtful, pausing ere he 

spoke, 
His silence thus the prudent hero broke: 
* Unhappy Monarch! whom the Grecian 

race. 
With shame deserting, heap with vile dis- 
grace. 
Not such at Argos was their gen'rous 

vow, 350 

Once all their voice, but ah! forgotten now: 
Ne'er to return, was then the common cry. 
Till Troy's proud structures should in ashes 

lie. 
Behold them weeping for their native 

shore ! 
What could their wives or helpless children 

more ? 
What heart but melts to leave the tender 

train. 
And, one short month, endure the wintry 

main ? 
Few leagues remov'd, we wish our peace- 
ful seat. 
When the ship tosses and the tempests 

beat: 
Then well may this long stay provoke their 

tears, 360 

The tedious length of nine revolving years. 
Not for their grief the Grecian host I 

blame; 
But vanquish'd! baffled! oh eternal shame! 
Expect the time to Troy's destruction giv'n, 
And try the faith of Calchas and of 

Heav'n. 
What pass'd at Aulis, Greece can witness 

bear, 
And all who live to breathe this Phrygian 

air. 



Beside a fountain's sacred brink we rais'd 
Our verdant altars, and the victims blazed 
('Twas where the plane-tree spread its 

shades around) ; 370 

The altars heav'd; and from the crumbling 

ground 
A mighty dragon shot, of dire portent; 
From Jove himself the dreadful sign was 

sent. 
Straight to the tree his sanguine spires he 

roll'd, 
And curl'd around in many a winding fold. 
The topmost branch amother-bird possess'd; 
Eight callow infants fill'd the mossy nest; 
Herself the ninth: the serpent, as he hung, 
Stretch'd his black jaws, and crash'd the 

crying young; 
While hov'ring near, with miserable moan, 
The drooping mother wail'd her children 

gone. 381 

The mother last, as round the nest she flew, 
Seiz'd by the beating wing, the monster 

slew: 
Nor long survived; to marble turu'd he 

stands 
A lasting prodigy on Aulis* sands, 
Such was the will of Jove; and hence we 

dare 
Trust in his omen, and support the war. 
For while around we gazed with wond'ring 

eyes, 
And trembling sought the Powers with 

sacrifice, 389 

Full of his God, the rev'rend Calchas cried; 
" Ye Grecian warriors! lay your fears aside: 
This wondrous signal Jove himself displays. 
Of long, long labours, but eternal praise. 
As many birds as by the snake were slain. 
So many years the toils of Greece remain; 
But wait the tenth, for Ilion's fall decreed: " 
Thus spoke the prophet, thus the Fates 

succeed. 
Obey, ye Grecians, with submission wait, 
Nor let your flight avert the Trojan fate.' 
He said: the shores with loud applauses 

sound, 400 

The hollow ships each deaf'ning shout re- 
bound. 
Then Nestor thus: 'These vain debates 

forbear: 
Ye talk like children, not like heroes dare. 
Where now are all your high resolves at 

last? 
Your leagues concluded, your engagements 

past ? 



278 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Vow'd with libations and with victims 

then, 
Now vanish'd like their smoke: the faith 

of men! 
While useless words consume th' unactive 

hours, 
No wonder Troy so long resists our powers. 
Rise, great Atrides! and with courage 

sway; 410 

We march to war, if thou direct the way. 
But leave the few that dare resist thy laws, 
The mean deserters of the Grecian cause. 
To grudge the conquests mighty Jove pre- 
pares. 
And view, with envy, our successful wars. 
On that great day when first the martial 

train, 
Big with the fate of Ilion, plough'd the 

main ; 
Jove on the right a prosp'rous signal sent. 
And thunder rolling shook the firmament. 
Encouraged hence, maintain the glorious 

strife, 420 

Till ev'ry soldier grasp a Phrygian wife, 
Till Helen's woes at full revenged appear. 
And Troy's proud matrons render teas for 

tear. 
Before that day, if any Greek invite 
His country's troops to base, inglorious 

flight. 
Stand forth that Greek! and hoist his sail 

to fly; 
And die the dastard first, who dreads. to die. 
But now, O monarch! all thy Chiefs advise: 
Nor what they offer, thou thyself despise. 
Among those counsels, let not mine be 

vain; 430 

In tribes and nations to divide thy train: 
His sep'rate troops let ev'ry leader call. 
Each strengthen each, and all encourage 

all. 
What Chief, or soldier, of the numerous 

band, 
Or bravely fights, or ill obeys command. 
When thus distinct they war, shall soon be 

known. 
And what the cause of Ilion not o'erthrown ; 
If Fate resists, or if our arms are stow. 
If Gods above prevent, or men below.' 
To him the King: 'How much thy years 

excel 440 

In arts of council, and in speaking well! 
Oh would the Gods, in love to Greece, de- 
cree 
But ten such sages as they grant in thee ; 



Such wisdom soon should Priam's force 

destroy. 
And soon should fall the haughty towers of 

Troy ! 
But Jove forbids, who plunges those he 

hates 
In fieree contention and in vain debates. 
Now great Achilles from our aid withdraws, 
By me provoked; a captive maid the cause: 
If e'er as friends we join, the Trojan wall 
Must shake, and heavy will the vengeance 

fall! 45X 

But now, ye warriors, take a short repast; 
And, well - refresh'd, to bloody conflict 

haste. 
His sharpen'd spear let every Grecian wield 
And every Grecian fix his brazen shield; 
Let all excite the fiery steeds of war, 
And all for combat fit the rattling car. 
This day, this dreadful day, let each con- 
tend; 
No rest, no respite, till the shades descend; 
Till darkness, or till death shall cower all, 460 
Let the war bleed, and let the mighty fall; 
Till bathed in sweat be ev'ry manly breast, 
With the huge shield each brawny arm de- 

press'd. 
Each aching nerve refuse the lance to 

throw, 
And each spent courser at the chariot blow. 
Who dares, inglorious, in his ships to stay. 
Who dares to tremble on this signal day, 
That wretch, too mean to fall by martial 

power. 
The birds shall mangle and the dogs de- 
vour.' 
The Monarch spoke: and straight a mur 

mur rose, 470 

Loud as the surges when the tempest 

blows, 
That dash'd on broken rocks tumultuous 

roar, 
And foam and thunder on the stony shore. 
Straight to the tents the troops dispersing 

bend. 
The fires are kindled, and the smokes 

ascend; 
With hasty feasts they sacrifice, and pray 
T' avert the dangers of the doubtful day. 
A steer of five years' age, large limb'd, and 

fed, 
To Jove's high altars Agamemnon led: 
There bade the noblest of the Grecian 

peers, 480 

And Nestor first, as most advanc'd in years. 



THE ILIAD 



279 



Next came Idomeneus and Tydeus' sou, 

Ajax the less, and Ajax Telamon; 

Then wise Ulysses in his rank was placed; 

And Menelaus came unbid, the last. 

The Chiefs surround the destin'd beast, and 

take 
The sacred off'ring of the salted cake: 
When thus the King prefers his solemn 

prayer: 
* Oh thou! whose thunder rends the clouded 

air, 
Who in the Heav'n of Heav'ns hast fix'd 

thy throne, 490 

Supreme of Gods! unbounded and alone! 
Hear, and before the burning sun descends. 
Before the night her gloomy veil extends. 
Low in the dust be laid yon hostile spires, 
Be Priam's palace Sunk in Grecian fires, 
In Hector's breast be plunged this shining 

sword, 
And slaughter'd heroes groan around their 

lord!' 
Thus pray'd the Chief: his unavailing 

prayer 
Great Jove refused, and toss'd in empty 

air: 
The God, averse, while yet the fumes arose, 
Prepar'd new toils, and doubled woes on 

woes. 501 

Their prayers perform'd, the Chiefs the 

rites pursue, 
The barley sprinkled, and the victim slew. 
The limbs they sever from th' enclosing 

hide. 
The thighs, selected to the Gods, divide. 
On these, in double cauls involv'd with 

art, 
The choicest morsels lie from every part. 
From the cleft wood the crackling flames 

aspire. 
While the fat victim feeds the sacred fire. 
The thighs thus sacrificed and entrails 

dress'd, 510 

Th' assistants part, transfix, and roast the 

rest; 
Then spread the tables, the repast prepare. 
Each takes his seat, and each receives his 

share. 
Soon as the rage of hunger was suppress'd. 
The gen'rous Nestor thus the Prince ad- 

dress'd : 
*Now bid thy heralds sound the loud 

alarms, 
And call the squadrons sheathed in brazen 

arms: 



Now seize th' occasion, now the troops sur- 
vey, 
And lead to war when Heav'n directs the 

way.' 
He said; the Monarch issued his com- 
mands; 520 
Straight the loud heralds call the gath'ring 

bands. 
The Chiefs enclose their King: the hosts 

divide, 
In tribes and nations rank'd on either side. 
High in the midst the blue-eyed Virgin flies ; 
From nank to rank she darts her ardent 

eyes: 
The dreadful aegis, Jove's immortal shield, 
Blazed on her arm, and lighten'd all the 

field: 
Round the vast orb a hundred serpents 

roll'd, 
Form'd the bright fringe, and seem'd to 

burn in g6ld. 
With this each Grecian's manly breast she 

warms, 530 

Swells their bold hearts, and strings their 

nervous arms; 
No more they sigh inglorious to return, 
But breathe revenge, and for the combat 

burn. 
As on some mountain, thro' the lofty 

grove. 
The crackling flames ascend and blaze 

above, 
The fires, expanding as the winds arise. 
Shoot their long beams, and kindle half the 

skies, 
So from the polish'd arms, and brazen 

shields, 
A gleamy splendour flash'd along the fields. 
Not less their number than th' embodied 

cranes, 5;4o 

Or milk-white swans in Asius' wat'ry 

plains. 
That o'er the windings of Cayster's springs 
Stretch their long necks, and clap their 

rustling wings. 
Now tower aloft, and course in airy rounds; 
Now light with noise ; with noise the field 

resounds. 
Thus numerous and confused, extending 

wide, 
The legions crowd Scamander'sflow'ry side; 
With rushing troops the plains are cover'd 

o'er, 
And thund'ring footsteps shake the sound- 
ing shore; 



28o 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Along the river's level meads they stand, 550 

Thick as in spring the flowers adorn the 
land, 

Or leaves the trees; or thick as insects play, 

The wand'ring nation of a summer's day, 

That, drawn by milky steams, at ev'ning 
hours, 

In gather'd swarms surround the rural 
bowers; 

From pail to pail with busy murmur run 

The gilded legions, gUtt'ring in the sun. 

So throng'd, so close, the Grecian squadrons 
stood 

In radiant arms, and thirst for Trojan 
blood. 

Each leader now his scatter'd force con- 
joins 560 

In close array, and forms the deep'ning 
lines. 

Not with more ease the skilful shepherd 
swain 

Collects his flock from thousands on the 
plain. 

The King of Kings, majestically tall, 

Towers o'er his armies, and outshines them 
all: 

Like some proud bull that round the pas- 
tures leads 

His subject - herds, the monarch of the 
meads. 

Great as the Gods th' exalted Chief was 
seen, 

His strength like Neptune, and like Mars 
his mien; 

Jove o'er his eyes celestial glories spread, 

And dawning conquest play'd around his 
head. 571 

Say, Virgins, seated round the throne 
divine, 

All-knowing Goddesses! immortal Nine! 

Since earth's wide regions, Heav'n's un- 
measured height, 

And Hell's abyss, hide nothing from your 
sight 

(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts be- 
low. 

But guess by rumour, and but boast we 
know), 

Oh say what heroes, fired by thirst of 
fame. 

Or urged by wrongs, to Troy's destruction 
came ? 

To count them all, demands a thousand 
tongues, 580 

A throat of brass, and adamantine lungs; 



Daughters of Jove, assist! inspired by you. 
The mighty labour dauntless I pursue : 
What crowded armies, from what climes, 

they bring. 
Their names, their numbers, and their 

Chiefs, I sing. 
The hardy warriors whom Bceotia bred, 
Peneleus, Leitus, Prothoenor led: 
With these Arcesilaus and Clonius stand. 
Equal in arms, and equal in command. 
These head the troops that rocky Aulis 

yields, 590 

And Eteon's hills, and Hyrie's wat'ry 

fields, 
And Schcenos, Scolos, Grsea near the main, 
And Mycalessia's ample piny plain. 
Those who in Peteon or Ilesion dwell, 
Or Harraa, where Apollo's prophet fell ; 
Heleon and Hyle, which the springs o'er- 

flow; 
And Medeon lofty, and Ocalea low; 
Or in the meads of Haliartus stray, 
Or Thespia, sacred to the God of Day. 
Onchestus, Neptune's celebrated groves; 600 
Copse, and Thisb^, famed for silver doves, 
For flocks Erythrse, Glissa for the vine; 
Platsea green, and Nisa the di\dne. 
And they whom Thebes' well-built walls en- 
close. 
Where Myde, Eutresis, Coron^ rose; 
And Arne rich, with purple harvests 

crown'd ; 
And Anthedon, Bceotia's utmost bound. 
Full fifty ships they send, and each con- 
veys 
Twice sixty warriors thro' the foaming 

seas. 
To these succeed Asplendon's martial 

train, 610 

Who plough the spacious Orchomenian 

plain. 
Two valiant brothers rule th' undaunted 

throng, 
lalmen and Ascalaphus the strong. 
Sons of Astyoche, the heav'nly Fair, 
Whose virgin charms subdued the God of 

War 
(In Actor's court as she retired to rest. 
The strength of Mars the blushing maid 

compress'd): 
Their troops in thirty sable vessels sweep. 
With equal oars, the hoarse - resounding 

deep. 619 

The Phocians next in forty barks repair, 
Epistrophus and Schedius head the war; 



THE ILIAD 



281 



From those rich regions where Cephissus 
leads 

His silver current thro* the flowery meads; 

From Panopea, Chrysa the divine, 

Where Anemoria's stately turrets shine, 

Where Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood, 

And fair Lilaea views the rising flood. 

These, ranged in order on the floating tide, 

Close, on the left, the bold Boeotians' side. 
Fierce Ajax led the Locrian squadrons 
on, 630 

Ajax the less, Oi'leus' valiant son; 

Skill'd to direct the flying dart aright; 

Swift in pursuit, and active in the fight. 

Him, as their chief, the chosen troops at- 
tend. 

Which Bessa, Thronus, and rich Cynos 
send; 

Opus, Calliarus, and Scarphe's bands; 

And those who dwell where pleasing 
Augia stands, 

And where BoJigrius floats the lowly lands, 

Or in fair Tarphe's sylvan seats reside ; 

In forty vessels cut the yielding tide. 640 
Euboea next her martial sons prepares. 

And sends the brave Abantes to the wars; 

Breathing revenge, in arms they take their 
way 

From Chalcis' walls, and strong Eretria; 

Th' Isteian fields for geu'rous vines re- 
no wn'd. 

The fair Carystos, and the Styrian ground; 

Where Dios from her towers o'erlooks the 
plain. 

And high Cerinthus views the neighb'ring 
main, 

Down their broad shoulders falls a length 
of hair; 

Their hands dismiss not the long lance in 
air: 650 

But with portended spears, in fighting 
fields. 

Pierce the tough corselets and the brazen 
shields. 

Twice twenty ships transport the warlike 
bands. 

Which bold Elphenor, fierce in arms, com- 
mands. 
Full fifty more from Athens stem the 
main, 

Led by Menestheus thro' the liquid plain 

(Athens the fair, where great Erectheus 
sway'd. 

That owed his nurture to the blue-eyed 
maid, 



But from the teeming furrow took his 

birth. 
The mighty offspring of the foodfuU 

earth. 660 

Him Pallas placed amidst her wealthy 

fane, 
Ador'd with sacrifice and oxen slain; 
Where as the years revolve her altars 

blaze, 
And all the tribes resomid the Goddess' 

praise). 
No Chief like thee, Menestheus! Greece 

could yield. 
To marshal armies in the dusty field, 
Th' extended wings of battle to display, 
Or close th' embodied host in firm array. 
Nestor alone, improv'd by length of days. 
For martial conduct bore an equal 

praise. 670 

With these appear the Salaminian bands, 
Whom the gigantic Telamon commands; 
In twelve black ships to Troy they steer 

their course, 
And with the great Athenians join their 

force. 
Next move to war the gen'rous Argive 

train 
From high Trcezene, and Maseta's plain. 
And fair ^gina circled by the main: 
Whom strong Tirynthe's lofty walls sur- 
round. 
And Epidaure with viny harvests crown 'd: 
And where fair Asinen and Hermion 

shew 680 

Their cliffs above, and ample bay below. 
These by the brave Euryalus were led. 
Great Sthenelus, and greater Diomed, 
But Chief Tydides bore the sov'reign sway; 
In fourscore barks they plough the wat'ry 

way. 
The proud Mycene arms her martial 

powers, 
Cleone, Corinth, with imperial towers, 
Fair Araethyrea, Ornia's fruitful plain. 
And iEgion, and Adrastus' ancient reign; 
And those who dwell along the sandy 

shore, 690 

And where Pellene yields her fleecy store. 
Where Helice and Hyperesia lie. 
And Gonoessa's spires salute the sky. 
Great Agamemnon rules the numerous' 

band, 
A hundred vessels in long order stand. 
And crowded nations wait his dread com 

mand. 



■J 



2»2 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



High on the deck the King of men appears, 
And his refulgent arms in triumph wears; 
Proud of his host, unrivall'd in his reign, 
In silent pomp he moves along the 

main. 700 

His brother follows, and to vengeance 

warms 
The hardy Spartans, exercised in arms: 
Phares and Brysia's valiant troops, and 

those 
Whom Lacedaemon's lofty hills enclose: 
Or Messe's towers for silver doves re- 

nown'd, 
Amyclse, Laas, Augia's happy ground, 
And those whom CEtylos' low walls con- 
tain, 
And Helos on the margin of the main: 
These o'er the bending ocean, Helen's 

cause 
In sixty ships with Menelaus draws: 710 
Eager and loud, from man to man he flies, 
Revenge and fury flaming in his eyes; 
While, vainly fond, in fancy oft he hears 
The fair one's grief, and sees her falling 

tears. 
In ninety sail, from Pylos' sandy coast, 
Nestor the sage conducts his chosen host: 
From Amphigenia's ever-fruitful land; 
Where ^JEpy high, and little Pteleon stand: 
Where beauteous Arene her structures 

shows. 
And Thryon's walls Alpheiis' streams en- 
close: 720 
And Dorion, famed for Thamyris' disgrace, 
Superior once of all the tuneful race. 
Till, vain of mortal's empty praise, he 

strove 
To match the seed of cloud-compelling 

Jove ! 
Too daring bard! whose unsuccessful pride 
Th' immortal Muses in their art defied. 
Th' avenging Muses of the light of day 
Deprived his eyes, and snatch'd his voice 

away; 
No more his heav'nly voice was heard to 

sing; 
His hand no more awaked the silver 

string. ^ 730 

Where under high Cyllen^, crown'd with 

wood. 
The shaded tomb of old ^pytus stood; 
From Rip6, Stratie, Tegea's bord'ring 

towns. 
The Phenean fields, and Orchomenian 

downs, 



Where the fat herds in plenteous pasture 

rove; 
And Stymphelus with her surrounding 

grove, 
Parrhasia, on her snowy cliffs reclin'd. 
And high Enispe shook by wintry wind, 
And fair Mantinea's ever-pleasing site; 
In sixty sail th' Arcadian bands unite. 740 
Bold Agapenor, glorious at their head 
(Ancseus' son), the mighty squadron led. 
Their ships, supplied by Agamemnon's 

care. 
Thro' roaring seas the wond'ring warriors 

bear; 
The first to battle on th' appointed plain, 
But new to all the dangers of the main. 
Those, where fair Elis and Buprasium 

join; 
Whom Hyrmin, here, and Myrsinus con- 
fine. 
And bounded there, where o'er the valleys 

rose 
Th' Olenian rock; and where Alisium 

flows; 750 

Beneath four Chiefs (a numerous army) 

came: 
The strength and glory of th' Epean name. 
In sep'rate squadrons these their train 

divide. 
Each leads ten vessels thro' the yielding 

tide. 
One was Amphimachus, and Thalpius one; 
(Eurytus' this, and that Teatus' son): 
Diores sprung from Amarynceus' line; 
And great Polyxenus, of force divine. 

But those who view fair Elis o'er the seas 
From the blest islands of th' Echinades, 760 
In forty vessels under Meges move. 
Begot by Phyleus, the belov'd of Jove. 
To strong Dulichium from his sire he fled, 
And thence to Troy his hardy warriors led. 

Ulysses follow'd thro' the wat'ry road, 
A Chief, in wisdom equal to a God. 
With those whom Cephallenia's isle en- 
closed, 
Or till their fields along the coast opposed ; 
Or where fair Ithaca o'erlooks the floods. 
Where high Neritos shakes his waving 

woods, 770 

Where iEgilipa's rugged sides are seen, 
Crocylia rocky, and Zacynthus green. 
These, in twelve galleys with vermillion 

prores, 
Beneath his conduct sought the Phrygian 

shores. 



THE ILIAD 



283 



Thoas came next, Andrsemou's valiant 

son, 
Frorn Pleuron's walls and chalky Calydon, 
And rough Pylen6, and th' Olenian steep, 
And Chalcis, beaten by the rolling deep. 
He led the warriors from th' ^tolian 

shore. 
For now the sons of CEneus were no 

more! 780 

The glories of the mighty race were fled! 
Q^lneus himself, and Meleager dead! 
To Thoas' care now trust the martial train: 
His forty vessels follow thro' the main. 
Next eighty barks the Cretan King com- 
mands, 
Of Gnossus, Lyctus, and Gortyna's bands. 
And those who dwell where Rhytion's 

domes arise, 
Or white Lycastus glitters to the skies, 
Or where by Phsestus silver Jardan runs; 
Crete's hundred cities pour forth all her 

sons. 790 

These march'd, Idomeneus, beneath thy 

care. 
And Merion, dreadful as the God of War. 
Tlepolemus, the son of Hercules, 
Led nine swift vessels thro' the foamy seas; 
From Rhodes, with everlasting sunshine 

bright, 
Jalyssus, Lindus and Camirus white. 
His captive mother fierce Alcides bore 
From Ephyr's walls, and Selle's winding 

shore. 
Where mighty towns in ruins spread the 

plain. 
And saw their blooming warriors early 

slaih. 800 

The hero, when to manly years he grew, 
Alcides' uncle, old Licymnius, slew; 
For this constrain' d to quit his native 

place. 
And shun the vengeance of th' Herculean 

race, 
A fleet he built, and with a numerous 

train 
Of willing exiles, wander'd o'er the main; 
Where, many seas and many suff 'rings past. 
On happy Rhodes the Chief arrived at last: 
There in three tribes divides his native 

band. 
And rules them peaceful in a foreign 

land; 810 

Increas'd and prosper'd in their new 

abodes 
By mighty Jove, the sire of men and Gods; 



With joy they saw the growing empire 

rise. 
And showers of wealth descending from 

the skies. 
Three ships with Nireus sought the Tro- 
jan shore, 
Nireus, whom Aglae to Charopus bore, 
Nireus, in faultless shape, and blooming 

grace, 
The loveliest youth of all the Grecian race; 
Pelides only match'd his early charms; 
But few his troops, and small his strength 

in arms. 820 

Next thirty galleys cleave the liquid 

plain, 
Of those Calydnse's sea-girt isles contain; 
With them the youth of Nisyrus repair. 
Casus the strong, and Crapathus the fair; 
Cos, where Eurypylus possess'd the sway, 
Till great Alcides made the realms obey: 
These Antiphus and bold Phidippus bring, 
Sprung from the God by Thessalus the 

King. 
Now, Muse, recount Pelasgic Argos' 

powers, 829 

From Alos, Alop6, and Trechin's towers; 
From Phthia's spacious vales; and Hella, 

bless'd 
With female beauty far beyond the rest. 
Full fifty ships beneath Achilles' care 
Th' Achaians, Myrmidons, Hellenians bear; 
Thessalians all, tho' various in their name, 
The same their nation, and their Chief the 

same. 
But now inglorious, stretch'd along the 

shore. 
They hear the brazen voice of war no more; 
No more the foe they face in dire array: 
Close in his fleet their angry leader lay; 840 
Since fair Briseis from his arms was torn. 
The noblest spoil from sack'd Lyrnessus 

borne. 
Then, when the Chief the Theban walls o'er- 

threw. 
And the bold sons of great Evenus slew. 
There mourn'd Achilles, plunged in depth 

of care, 
But soon to rise in slaughter, blood, and 

war. 
To these the youth of Phylac^ succeed, 
Itona, famous for her fleecy breed, 
And grassy Pteleon deck'd with cheerful 

greens. 
The bowers of Ceres, and the sylvan 

scenes, 85c 



284 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Sweet Pyrrhasus, with blooming flowerets 

crown'd, 
And Antron's wat'ry dens, and cavern'd 

ground. 
These own'd as Chief Protesilas the brave, 
Who now lay silent in the gloomy grave: 
The first who boldly touch'd the Trojan 

shore, 
And dyed a Phrygian lance with Grecian 

gore; 
There lies, far distant from his native plain ; "] 
Unfinish'd his proud palaces remain, > 

And his sad consort beats her breast in vain. J 
His troops in forty ships Podarces led, 860 
Iphiclus' son, and brother to the dead; 
Nor he unworthy to command the host; 
Yet still they mourn'd their ancient leader 

lost. 
The men who Glaphyra's fair soil par- 
take, 
Where hills encircle Bcebe's lowly lake, 
Where Pherse hears the neighb'ring waters 

fall, 
Or proud lolcus lifts her airy wall. 
In ten black ships embark'd for Ilion's 

shore, 
With bold Euraelus, whom Aleest^ bore: 
All Pelias' race Alcest^ far outshined, 870 
The grace and glory of the beauteous kind. 
The troops Methone, or Thaumacia 

yields, 
Olizon's rocks, or Meliboea's fields, 
With Philoctetes sail'd, whose matchless 

art 
From the tough bow directs the feather'd 

dart. 
Seven were his ships: each vessel fifty row, 
Skill'd in his science of the dart and bow. 
But he lay raging on the Lemnian ground ; 
A pois'nous Hydra gave the burning 

wound; 
There groan'd the Chief in agonizing pain. 
Whom Greece at length shall wish, nor 

wish in vain. 881 

His forces Medon led from Lemnos' shore, 
Oileus* son, whom beauteous Rhena bore. 
Th' CEchalian race, in those high towers 

contain'd, 
Where once Eurytus in proud triumph 

reign'd, 
Or where her humbler turrets Tricca rears, 
Or where Ithom^, rough with rocks, ap- 
pears ; 
In thirty sail the sparkling waves divide, 
Which Podalirius and Machaon guide. 



To these his skill their Parent-god imparts. 
Divine professors of the healing arts. 891 

The bold Ormenian and Asteriau bands 
In forty barks Eurypylus commands. 
Where Titan hides his hoary head in snow, 
And where Hyperia's silver fountains flow. 

Thy troops, Argissa, Polypcetes leads. 
And Eleon, shelter'd by Olympus' shades, 
Gry tone's warriors; and where Orth6 lies. 
And Oloosson's chalky clifiPs arise. 
Sprung from Pirithous of immortal race, 900 
The fruit of fair Hippodame's embrace 
(That day, when, hurl'd from Pelion's 

cloudy head. 
To distant dens the shaggy Centaurs fled). 
With Polypcetes join'd in equal sway, 
Leonteus leads, and forty ships obey. 

In twenty sail the bold Perrhaebians came 
From Cyphus, Guneus was their leader's 

name. 
With these the Enians join'd, and those 

who freeze 
Where cold Dodona lifts her holy trees; 
Or where the pleasing Titaresius glides, 910 
And into Peneus rolls his easy tides; 
Yet o'er the silver surface pure they flow. 
The sacred stream unmix'd with streams 

below. 
Sacred and awful! From the dark abodes 
Styx pours them forth, the dreadful oath of 

Gods! 
Last under Prothous the Magnesians 

stood, 
Prothous the swift, of old Tenthredon's 

blood ; 
Who dwell where Pelion, crown'd with piny 

boughs. 
Obscures the glade, and nods his shaggy 

brows: 
Or where thro' flowery Ternp^ Peneus 

stray'd 920 

(The region stretch'd beneath his mighty 

shade) : 
In forty sable barks they stemm'd the 

main; 
Such were the Chiefs, and such the Grecian 

train. 
Say next, O Muse! of all Achaia breeds. 
Who bravest fought, or rein'd the noblest 

steeds ? 
Eumelus' mares were foremost in the chase, 
As eagles fleet, and of Pheretian race; 
Bred where Pieria's fruitful fountains flow. 
And train'd by him who bears the silver 

bow. 



THE ILIAD 



285 



Fierce in the fight, their nostrils breathed a 
flame, 930 

Their height, their colour, and their age, 
the same; 

O'er fields of death they whirl the rapid 
car, 

And break the ranks, and thunder thro' the 
war. 

Ajax in arms the first renown acquired, 

While stern Achilles in his wrath retired 

(His was the strength that mortal might 
exceeds. 

And his th' unrivall'd race of heav'nly 
steeds): 

But Thetis' son now shines in arms no 
more; 

His troops, neglected on the sandy shore. 

In empty air their sportive jav'lins throw. 

Or whirl the disk, or bend an idle bow: 941 

Unstain'd with blood his cover'd chariots 
stand ; 

Th' immortal coursers graze along the 
strand ; 

But the brave Chiefs th' inglorious life de- 
plor'd. 

And, wand'ring o'er the camp, required 
their lord. 
Now, like a deluge, cov'ring all around. 

The shining armies swept along the ground ; 

Swift as a flood of fire, when storms arise, 

Floats the wide field, and blazes to the 
skies. 

Earth groan'd beneath them; as when an- 
gry Jove 950 

Hurls down the forky lightning from 
above. 

On Arim^ when he the thunder throws. 

And fires Typhosus with redoubled blows. 

Where Typhon, press'd beneath the burn- 
ing load. 

Still feels the fury of th' avenging God. 
But various Iris, Jove's commands to 
bear. 

Speeds on the wings of winds thro' liquid air; 

In Priam's porch the Trojan Chiefs she 
found. 

The old consulting, and the youths around. 

Polites' shape, the monarch's son, she chose. 

Who from ^Esetes' tomb observ'd the foes. 

High on the mound; from whence in pro- 
spect lay ■ 962 

The fields, the tents, the navy, and the bay. 

In this dissembled form she hastes to bring 

Th' unwelcome message to the Phrygian 
King: 



* Cease to consult, the time for action 
calls. 
War, horrid war, approaches to your walls! 
Assembled armies oft have I beheld. 
But ne'er till now such numbers charged a 

field. 
Thick as autumnal leaves, or driving sand, 
The moving squadrons blacken all the 
strand. 971 

Thou, godlike Hector! all thy force em- 
ploy, 
Assemble all th' united bands of Troy; 
In just array let every leader call 
The foreign troops : this day demands them 
all.' 
The voice divine the mighty Chief alarms; 
The council breaks, the warriors rush to 

arms. 
The gates unfolding pour forth all their 

train, 
Nations on nations fill the dusky plain. 
Men, steeds, and chariots, shake the trem- 
bling ground; 980 
The tumult thickens, and the skies resound. 
Amidst the plain in sight of Ilion stands 
A rising mount, the work of human hands 
(This for Myrinne's tomb th' immortals 

know, 
Tho' call'd Bateia in the world below) ; 
Beneath their Chiefs in martial order here 
Th' auxiliar troops and Trojan hosts ap- 
pear. 
The godlike Hector, high above the rest, 
Shakes his huge spear, and nods his plumy 

crest: 
In throngs around his native bands appear. 
And groves of lances glitter in the air. 991 

Divine vEneas brings the Dardan race, 
Anchises' son, by Venus' stol'n embrace. 
Born in the shades of Ida's secret grove 
(A mortal mixing with the Queen of Love) ] 
Archilochus and Acaraas divide 
The warrior's toils, and combat by his side. 

Who fair Zeleia's wealthy valleys till, 
Fast by the foot of Ida's sacred hill ; 
Or drink, ^sepus, of thy sable flood; 1000 
Were led by Pandarus, of royal blood. 
To whom his art Apollo deign'd to shew. 
Graced with the present of his shafts and 
bow. 
From rich Apsesus and Adrestia's towers, 
High Teree's summits, and Pityea's bowers; 
From these the congregated troops obey 
Young Amphius and Adrastus' equal 
sway; 



286 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Old Merops' sons ; whom, skill'd in fates to 

come, 
The sire forewarn'd, and prophesied their 

doom: 
Fate urged them on! the sire forewarn'd in 

vain, loio 

They rush'd to war, and perish'd on the 

plain. 
From Practius' stream, Percot^'s pasture 

lands. 
And Sestos and Abydos'neighb'ring strands. 
From great Arisba's walls and Selle's coast, 
Asius Hyrtacides conducts his host: 
High on his car he shakes the flowing reins. 
His fiery coursers thunder o'er the plains. 

The fierce Pelasgi next, in war renown'd, 
March from Larissa's ever-fertile ground: 
In equal arms their brother leaders shine, 
Hippothous bold, and Pyleus the divine. 1021 
Next Acamas and PyroUs lead their 

hosts 
In dread array, from Thracia's wintry 

coasts; 
Round the black realms where Hellespon- 

tus roars, 
And Boreas beats the hoarse-resounding 

shores. 
With great Euphemus the Ciconians 

move. 
Sprung from Trcezenian Ceiis, lov'd by 

Jove. 
Pyrsechmes the Pseonian troops attend, 
Skill'd in the fight their crooked bows to 

bend; 
From Axius' ample bed he leads them on, 
Axius, that laves the distant Amydon, 103 1 
Axius, that swells with all his neighb'ring 

rills, 
And wide around the floating region fills. 

The Paphlagonians Pylsemenes rules. 
Where rich Henetia breeds her savage 

mules, 
Where Erythinus' rising cliffs are seen. 
Thy groves of box, Cy torus! ever green; 
And where ^gialus and Cromna lie. 
And lofty Sesamus invades the sky; 
And where Parthenius roU'd thro' banks of 

flowers, 1040 

Reflects her bord'ring palaces and bowers. 
Here march'd in arms the Halizonian 

band. 
Whom Odius and Epistrophus command. 
From those far regions where the sun re- 
fines 
The ripening silver in Alybean mines. 



There, mighty Chromis led the Mysiau 

train, 
And augur EnnomuS; inspired in vain, 
For stern Achilles lopp'd his sacred head, 
Roll'd down Scamander with the vulgar 

dead. 
Phorcys and brave Ascanius here unite 
Th' Ascanian Phrygians, eager for the 

fight. 105 1 

Of those who round Mseouia's realms 

reside. 
Or whom the vales in shade of Tmolus 

hide, 
Mestles and Antiphus the charge partake; 
Born on the banks of Gyges' silent lake. 
There, from the fields where wild Meander 

flows, 
High Mycal^, and Latmos' shady brows, 
And proud Miletus, came the Carian 

throngs, 
With mingled clamours, and with barb'rous 

tongues: 1059 

Amphimachus and Naustes guide the train, 
Naustes the bold, Amphimachus the vain, 
Who, trick'd with gold, and glitt'ring on 

his car. 
Rode like a woman to the field of war. 
Fool that he was! by fierce Achilles slain. 
The river swept him to the briny main: 
There whelm'd with waves the gaudy war- 
rior lies; 
The valiant victor seiz'd the golden prize. 

The forces last in fair array succeed, 
Which blameless Glaucus and Sarpedon 

lead; 
The warlike bands that distant Lycia 

yields 1070 

Where gnlfy Xanthus foams along the 

fields. 



BOOK III 

THE DUEL OF MENELAUS AND PARIS 
THE ARGUMENT 

The armies being ready to engage, a single 
combat is agreed upon between Menelaus 
and Paris (by the intervention of Hector) for 
the determination of the war. Iris is sent to 
call Helena to behold the fight. She leads 
her to the walls of Troy, where Priam sat 
with his counsellors, observing tiie Grecian 
leaders on the plain below, to whom Helen 
gives an aeeonnt of the chief of them. The 
Kings on either part take the solemn oath 



THE ILIAD 



287 



for the conditions of the combat. The duel 
ensues, wherein Paris, being- overcome, is 
snatched away in a cloud by Venus, and 
transported to his apartment. She then calls 
Helen from the walls, and brings the lovers 
together. Agamemnon, on the part of the 
Grecians, demands the restoration of Helen, 
and the performance of the articles. 
The three-and-twentieth day still continues 
throughout this book. The scene is some- 
times in the field before Troy, and sometimes 
in Troy itself. 

Thus by their leader's care each martial 

band 
Moves into ranks, and stretches o'er the 

land. 
With shouts the Trojans, rushing from afar, 
Proclaim their motions, aud provoke the 

war: 
So when inclement winters vex the plain 
With piercing frosts, or thick-descending 

raiu, 
To warmer seas the cranes embodied fly, 
With noise, and order, thro' the midway 

sky; 
To pigmy nations wounds and death they 

bring, 
And all the war descends upon the wing. 10 
But silent, breathing rage, resolv'd, and 

skill'd 
By mutual aids to fix a doubtful field. 
Swift march the Greeks: the rapid dust 

around 
Dark'ning arises from the labour'd ground. 
Thus from his flaggy wings when Notus 

sheds 
A night of vapours round the mountain- 
heads, 
Swift-gliding mists the dusky fields invade. 
To thieves more grateful than the mid- 
night shade; 
While scarce the swains their feeding flocks 

survey. 
Lost and confused amidst the thicken'd 

day : 20 

So, wrapt in gath'ring dust, the Grecian 

train, 
A moving cloud, swept on, and hid the 

plain. 
Now front to front the hostile armies 

stand. 
Eager of fight, and only wait command: 
When, to the van, before the sons of fame 
Whom Troy sent forth, the beauteous Paris 

came: 



In form a God ! the panther's speckled 

hide 
Flow'd o'er his armour with an easy pride; 
His bended bow across his shoulders flung. 
His sword beside him negligently hung; 30 
Two pointed spears be shook with gallant 

grace. 
And dared the bravest of the Grecian race. 
As thus, with glorious air and proud dis- 
dain. 
He boldly stalk'd, the foremost on the 

plain, 
Him Menelaus, loved of Mars, espies. 
With heart elated, and with joyful eyes: 
So joys a lion, if the branching deer 
Or mountain goat, his bulky prize, appear; 
In vain the youths oppose, the mastiffs bay. 
The lordly savage rends the panting prey. 
Thus, fond of vengeance, with a furious 

bound, 41 

In clanging arms he leaps upon the ground 
From his high chariot: him, approaching 

near. 
The beauteous champion views with marks 

of fear, 
Smit with a conscious sense, retires behind, 
And shuns the fate he well deserv'd to 

find. 
As when some shepherd, from the rustling 

trees 
Shot forth to view, a scaly serpent sees: 
Trembling and pale, he starts with wild 

affright. 
And, all confused, precipitates his flight: 50 
So from the King the shining warrior 

flies. 
And plunged amid the thickest Trojans 

lies. 
As godlike Hector sees the Prince re- 
treat. 
He thus upbraids him with a gen'rous heat: 
' Unhappy Paris! but to women brave! 
So fairly form'd, and only to deceive! 
Oh, hadst thou died when first thou saw'st 

the light. 
Or died at least before thy nuptial rite! 
A better fate, than vainly thus to boast. 
And fly, the scandal of thy Trojan host. 60 
Gods! how the scornful Greeks exult to see 
Their fears of danger undeceiv'd in thee! 
Thy figure promis'd with a martial air, 
But ill thy soul supplies a form so fair. 
In former days, in all thy gallant pride. 
When thy tall ships triumphant stemm'd 

the tide, 



288 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



When Greece beheld thy painted canvas 

flow, 
And crowds stood wond'ring at the passing 

show; 
Say, was it thus, with such a baffled mien, 
You met th' approaches of the Spartan 

Queen, 70 

Thus from her realm convey'd the beaute- 
ous prize, 
And both her warlike lords outshined in 

Helen's eyes ? 
This deed, thy foes' delight, thy own dis- 
grace. 
Thy father's grief, and ruin of thy race; 
This deed recalls thee to the proffer'd 

flight; 
Or hast thou injured whom thou dar'st not 

right ? 
Soon to thy cost the field would make thee 

know 
Thou keep'st the consort of a braver foe. 
Thy graceful form instilling soft desire, 
Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre, 80 
Beauty and youth, in vain to these you 

trust, 
When youth and beauty shall be laid in 

dust: 
Troy yet may wake, and one avenging blow 
Crush the dire author of his country's 

woe.' 
His silence here, with blushes, Paris 

breaks : 
*'Tis just, my brother, what your anger 

speaks : 
But who like thee can boast a soul sedate. 
So firmly proof to all the shocks of Fate ? 
Thy force, like steel, a temper'd hardness 

shews. 
Still edged to wound, and still untired with 

blows, 90 

Like steel, uplifted by some strenuous 

swain. 
With falling woods to strow the wasted 

plain. 
Thy gifts I praise; nor thou despise the 

charms 
With which a lover golden Venus arms; 
Soft moving speech, and pleasing outward 

show, 
No wish can gain them, but the Gods be- 
stow. 
Yet wouldst thou have the proffer'd combat 

stand. 
The Greeks and Trojans seat on either 

hand; 



Then let a mid-way space our hosts divide, 

And on that stage of war the cause be 
tried: 100 

By Paris there the Spartan King be fought, 

For beauteous Helen and the wealth she 
brought; 

And who his rival can in arms subdue. 

His be the fair, and his the treasure too. 

Thus with a lasting league your toils may 
cease. 

And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace; 

Thus may the Greeks review their native 
shore, 

Much famed for gen'rous steeds, for beauty 
more.' 
He said. The challenge Hector heard 
with joy. 

Then with his spear restrain' d the youth of 
Troy, no 

Held by the midst, athwart; and near the 
foe 

Advanced with steps majestically slow; 

While round his dauntless head the Gre- 
cians pour 

Their stones and arrows in a mingled 
shower. 
Then thus the Monarch, great Atrides, 
cried : 

'Forbear, ye warriors! lay the darts aside: 

A parley Hector asks, a message bears; 

We know him by the various plume he 
wears.' 

Awed by his high command the Greeks at- 
tend, 1 19 

The tumult silence, and the fight suspend. 
While from the centre Hector rolls his 
eyes 

On either host, and thus to both applies: 

' Hear, all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian bands! 

What Paris, author of the war, demands. 

Your shining swords within the sheath re- 
strain, 

And pitch your lances in the yielding plain. 

Here, in the midst, in either army's sight, 

He dares the Spartan King to single fight; 

And wills, that Helen and the ravish'd spoil. 

That caus'd the contest, shall reward the 
toil. 130 

Let these the brave triumphant victor grace, 

And diff'ring nations part in leagues of 
peace.' 
He spoke: in still suspense on either 
side 

Each army stood. The Spartan Chief re- 
plied: 



THE ILIAD 



289 



*Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose fatal 

right 
A world engages in the toils of fight — 
To me the labour of the field resign; 
Me Paris injured; all the war be mine. 
Fall he that must, beneath his rival's arms, 
And live the rest secure of future harms. 
Two lambs, devoted by your country's 

rite, 141 

To Earth a sable, to the Sun a white, 
Prepare, ye Trojans! while a third we 

bring 
Select to Jove, th' inviolable King. 
Let rev'rend Priam in the truce engage, 
And add the sanction of consid'rate age; 
His sons are faithless, headlong in debate, 
And youth itself an empty wav'ring state : 
Cool age advances venerably wise. 
Turns on all hands its deep-discerning 

eyes; 150 

Sees what befell, and what may yet befall. 
Concludes from both, and best provides for 

all.' 
The nations hear, with rising hopes pos- 

sess'd, 
And peaceful prospects dawn in every 

breast. 
Within the lines they drew their steeds 

around. 
And from their chariots issued on the 

ground : 
Next all, unbuckling the rich mail they 

wore, 
Laid their bright arms along the sable shore. 
On either side the meeting hosts are seen 
With lances fix'd, and close the space be- 
tween. i6o 
Two heralds now, despatch'd to Troy, in- 
vite 
The Phrygian monarch to the peaceful rite ; 
Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to bring 
The lamb for Jove, th' inviolable King. 
Meantime, to beauteous Helen, from the 

skies 
The various Goddess of the Rainbow flies 
(Like fair Laodice in form and face. 
The loveliest nymph of Priam's royal race) ; 
Her in the palace, at her loom she found; 
The golden web her own sad story crown'd. 
The Trojan wars she weav'd (herself the 

prize), 171 

And the dire triumphs of her fatal eyes. 
To whom the Goddess of the Painted Bow: 
'Approach, and view the wondrous scene 

belowl 



Each hardy Greek, and valiant Trojan 

knight. 
So dreadful late, and furious for the fight. 
Now rest their spears, or lean upon their 

shields; 
Ceas'd is the war, and silent all the fields. 
Paris alone and Sparta's King advance, 
In single fight to toss the beamy lance; 180 
Each met in arms, the fate of combat tries. 
Thy love the motive, and thy charms the 

prize.' 
This said, the many-colour'd maid in- 
spires 
Her husband's love, and wakes her former 

fires; 
Her country, parents, all that once were 

dear. 
Rush to her thought, and force a tender 

tear. 
O'er her fair face a snowy veil she threw 
And, softly sighing, from the loom with- 
drew. 
Her handmaids Clymene and ^thra wait 
Her silent footsteps to the Scsean gate. 190 
There sat the seniors of the Trojan race 
(Old Priam's Chiefs, and most in Priam's 

grace); 
The King the first; Thymcetes at his side; 
Lampus and Clytius, long in council tried; 
Panthus, and Hicetaon, once the strong; 
And next the wisest of the rev'rend throng, 
Antenor grave, and sage Ucalegon, 
Lean'd on the walls, and bask'd before the 

sun. 
Chiefs, who no more in bloody fights en- 
gage. 
But, wise thro' time, and narrative with 

age, 200 

In summer-days like grasshoppers rejoice, 
A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice. 
These, when the Spartan Queen approach'd 

the tower. 
In secret own'd resistless Beauty's power: 
They cried, ' No wonder, such celestial 

charms 
For nine long years have set the world in 

arms! 
What winning graces! what majestic 

mien! 
She moves a Goddess, and she looks a 

Queen. 
Yet hence, oh Heav'n! convey that fatal 

face, 
And from destruction save the Trojan 

race.' 210 



290 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The good old Priam welcom'd her, and 
cried, 
* Approach, my child, and grace thy father's 

side. 
See on the plain thy Grecian spouse ap- 
pears, 
The friends and kindred of thy former 

years. 
No crime of thine our present suff'rings 

draws. 
Not thou, but Heav'n's disposing will, the 

cause; 
The Gods these armies and this force em- 
ploy, 
The hostile Gods conspire the fate of Troy. 
But lift thine eyes, and say, what Greek is 

he 
(Far as from hence these aged orbs can 
see), 220 

Around whose brow such martial graces 

shine. 
So tall, so awful, and almost divine ? 
Tho' some of larger stature tread the green, 
None match his grandeur and exalted mien: 
He seems a monarch and his country's 

pride.' 
Thus ceas'd the King, and thus the Fair 
replied: 
* Before thy presence, father, I appear 
With conscious shame and reverential fear, 
Ah! had I died, ere to these walls I fled. 
False to my country, and my nuptial bed. 
My brothers, friends, and daughter left be- 
hind, 331 
False to them all, to Paris only kind! 
For this I mourn, till grief or dire disease 
Shall waste the form whose crime it was to 

please! 
The King of Kings, Atrides, you survey. 
Great in the war, and great in arts of sway: 
My brother once, before my days of shame: 
And oh! that still he bore a brother's 
name! ' 
With wonder Priam view'd the godlike 
man, 
Extoll'd the happy Prince, and thus began: 
' O blest Atrides! born to presp'rous fate, 241 
Successful monarch of a mighty state! 
How vast thy empire! Of yon matchless 

train 
What numbers lost, what numbers yet re- 
main! 
In Phrygia once were gallant armies known. 
In ancient time, when Otreus fiU'd the 
throne; 



When godlike Mygdon led their troops of 

horse. 
And I, to join them, rais'd the Trojan force; 
Against the manlike Amazons we stood. 
And Sangar's stream ran purple with their 
blood. 250 

But far inferior those, in martial grace 
And strength of numbers, to this Grecian 
race.' 
This said, once more he view'd the war- 
rior train: 

* What 's he, whose arms lie scatter'd on the 

plain ? 
Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger 

spread, 
Tho' great Atrides overtops his head. 
Nor yet appear his care and conduct small; 
From rank to rank he moves, and orders 

all. 
The stately ram thus measures o'er the 

ground. 
And, master of the flocks, surveys them 

round.' 260 

Then Helen thus: * Whom your discern- 
ing eyes 
Have singled out, is Ithacus the wise: 
A barren island boasts his glorious birth; 
His fame for wisdom fills the spacious 

earth.' 
Antenor took the word, and thus began: 

* Myself, O King! have seen that wondrous 

man; 
When, trusting Jove and hospitable laws. 
To Troy he came, to plead the Grecian 

cause 
(Great Menelaus urged the same request); 
My house was honour'd with each royal 

guest: 270 

I knew their persons, and admired their 

parts. 
Both brave in arms, and both approved in 

arts. 
Erect, the Spartan most engaged our view, 
Ulysses seated greater rev'rence drew. 
When Atreus' son harangued the list'ning 

train. 
Just was his sense, and his expression 

plain, 
His words succinct, yet full, without a 

fault; 
He spoke no more than just the thing he 

oug^ht. 
But when Ulysses rose, in thought pro- 
found, 
His modest eyes he fix'd upon the ground; 



THE ILIAD 



agi 



As one unskill'd or dumb, he seem'd to 
stand, 281 

Nor rais'd his head, nor streteh'd his scep- 
tred hand; 

But when he speaks, what elocution flows! 

Soft as the fleeces of descending snows. 

The copious accents fall, with easy art; 

Melting they fall, and sink into the heart! 

Wond'ring we hear, and, fix'd in deep sur- 
prise. 

Our ears refute the censure of our eyes.' 
The King then ask'd (as yet the camp 
he view'd), 

* What Chief is that, with giant strength 

endued, 290 

Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swell- 
ing chest. 
And lofty stature, far exceed the rest ? ' 

* Ajax the great ' (the beauteous Queen re- 

plied), 
•Himself a host: the Grecian strength and 

pride. 
See! bold Idomeneus superior towers 
Amidst yon circle of his Cretan powers. 
Great as a God! I saw him once before. 
With Menelaus on the Spartan shore. 
The rest I know, and could in order name; 
All valiant Chiefs, and men of mighty 

fame. 300 

Yet two are wanting of the numerous train, 
Whom long my eyes have sought, but 

sought in vain; 
Castor and Pollux, first in martial force. 
One bold on foot, and one renown'd for 

horse. 
My brothers these; the same our native 

shore, 
One house contain'd us, as one mother 

bore. 
Perhaps the Chiefs, from warlike toils at 

ease. 
For distant Troy refused to sail the seas : 
Perhaps their sword some nobler quarrel 

draws. 
Ashamed to combat in their sister's cause.' 
So spoke the Fair, nor knew her brothers' 

doom, 311 

Wrapt in the cold embraces of the tomb; 
Adorn'd with honours in their native shore. 
Silent they slept, and heard of wars no 

more. 
Meantime, the heralds thro' the crowded 

town 
Bring the rich wine and destin'd victims 

down. 



Idseus' arms the golden goblets press'd, 
Who thus the venerable King address'd: 
'Arise, O father of the Trojan state! 
The nations call, thy joyful people wait, 320 
To seal the truce, and end the dire debate. 
Paris, thy son, and Sparta's King advance. 
In measured lists to toss the weighty lance ; 
And who his rival shall in arms subdue, 
His be the dame, and his the treasure too. 
Thus with a lasting league our toils may 

cease. 
And Troy possess her fertile fields in 

peace: 
So shall the Greeks review their native 

shore. 
Much famed for gen'rous steeds, for beauty 

more.' 
With grief he heard, and bade the Chiefs 

prepare 330 

To join his milk-white coursers to the car: 
He mounts the seat, Antenor at his side; 
The gentle steeds thro' Scaea's gates they 

guide: 
Next from the car, descending on the plain. 
Amid the Grecian host and Trojan train 
Slow they proceed: the sage Ulysses then 
Arose, and with him rose the King of men. 
On either side a sacred herald stands; 
The wine they mix, and on each monarch's 

hands 
Pour the full urn; then draws the Grecian 

lord 340 

His cutlass, sheathed beside his pond'rous 

sword; 
From the sign'd victims crops the curling 

hair. 
The heralds part it, and the Princes share ; 
Then loudly thus before th' attentive bands 
He calls the Gods, and spreads his lifted 

hands: 
* O first and greatest Power! whom all 

obey. 
Who high on Ida's holy mountain sway. 
Eternal Jove! and you bright Orb that roll 
From cast to west, and view from pole to 

pole! 
Thou mother Earth! and all ye living 

Floods! 350 

Infernal Furies, and Tartarean Gods, 
Who rule the dead, and horrid woes pre- 
pare 
For perjured Kings, and all who falsely 

swear! 
Hear, and be witness. If, by Paris slain, 
Great Menelaus press the fatal plain; 



292 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The dame and treasures let the Trojan 

keep; 
And Greece returning plough the wat'ry 

deep. 
If by my brother's lance the Trojan bleed, 
Be his the wealth and beauteous dame de- 
creed: 
Th' appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, 360 
And age to age record the signal day. 
This if the Phrygians shall refuse to yield, 
Arms must revenge, and Mars decide the 

field.' 
With that the Chief the tender victims 

slew. 
And in the dust their bleeding bodies 

threw: 
The vital spirit issued at the wound, 
And left the members quiv'ring on the 

ground. 
From the same urn they drink the mingled 

wine. 
And add libations to the Powers divine. 
While thus their prayers united mount the 

sky: 370 

*Hear, mighty Jove! and hear, ye Gods on 

hiffh! 
And may their blood, who first the league 

confound. 
Shed like this wine, disdain the thirsty 

ground ; 
May all their consorts serve promiscuous 

lust. 
And all their race be scatter'd as the dust! ' 
Thus either host their imprecations join'd. 
Which Jove refused, and mingled with the 

wind. 
The rites now finish'd, rev'rend Priam 

rose, 
And thus express'd a heart o'ercharged with 

woes: 
* Ye Greeks and Trojans, let the Chiefs en- 
gage, 380 
But spare the weakness of my feeble age: 
In yonder walls that object let me shun, 
Nor view the danger of so dear a son. 
Whose arms shall conquer, and what Prince 

shall fall, 
Heav'n only knows, for Heav'n disposes 

all.' 
This said, the hoary King no longer 

stay'd. 
But on his car the slaughter'd victims laid; 
Then seiz'd the reins his gentle steeds to 

guide. 
And drove to Troy, Antenor at his side. 



Bold Hector and Ulysses now dispose 390 
The lists of combat, and the ground en- 
close ; 
Next to decide by sacred lots prepare, 
Who first shall lance his pointed spear in 

air. 
The people pray with elevated hands, 
And words like these are heard thro' all 

the bands: 
' Immortal Jove! high Heav'n's superior 

lord. 
On lofty Ida's holy mount ador'd! 
Whoe'er involv'd us in this dire debate. 
Oh give that author of the war to Fate 
And shades eternal! let division cease, 400 
And joyful nations join in leagues of peace.' 
With eyes averted Hector hastes to turn 
The lots of fight, and shakes the brazen 

urn. 
Then, Paris, thine leap'd forth; by fatal 

chance 
Ordain'd the first to whirl the mighty 

lance. 
Both armies sat, the combat to survey, 
Beside each Chief his azure armour lay. 
And round the lists the gen'rous coursers 

neigh. 
The beauteous warrior now arrays for fight. 
In gilded arms magnificently bright: 410 
The purple cuishes clasp his thighs around. 
With flowers adorn'd, with silver buckles 

bound: 
Lycabn's corslet his fair body dress'd. 
Braced in, and fitted to his softer breast; 
A radiant baldric, o'er his shoulder tied, 
Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his 

side: 
His youthful face a polish'd helm o'er- 

spread ; 
The waving horse-hair nodded on his head : 
His figured shield, a shining orb, he takes. 
And in his hand a pointed jav'lin shakes. 420 
With equal speed, and fired by equal 

charms. 
The Spartan hero sheathes his limbs in arms. 
Now round the lists th' admiring armies 

stand. 
With jav'lins fix'd, the Greek and Trojan 

band. 
Amidst the dreadful vale the Chiefs ad- 
vance. 
All pale with rage, and shake the threat'- 

ning lance. 
The Trojan first his shining jav'lin threw: 
Full on Atrides' ringing shield it flew, 



THE ILIAD 



293 



Nor pierc'd the brazen orb, but with a 

bound 
Leap'd from the buckler bhinted on the 

ground. 430 

Atrides then his massy lance prepares, 
In act to throw, but first prefers his 

prayers : 
*Give me, great Jove! to punish lawless 

lust. 
And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust; 
Destroy th' aggressor, aid my righteous 

cause, 
Avenge the breach of hospitable laws! 
Let this example future times reclaim. 
And guard from wrong fair friendship's 

holy name.' 
He said, and, pois'd in air, the jav'lin sent; 
Thro' Paris' shield the forceful weapon 

went, 440 

His corslet pierces, and his garment rends. 
And, glancing downward, near his flank 

descends. 
The wary Trojan, bending from the blow, 
Eludes the death, and disappoints his 

foe: 
But fierce Atrides waved his sword, and 

struck 
Full on his casque; the crested helmet 

shook; 
The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand. 
Broke short: the fragments glitter'd on the 

sand; 
The racing warrior to the spacious skies 
Kais'd his upbraiding voice, and angry 

eyes: 450 

* Then is it vain in Jove himself to trust ? 
And is it thus the Gods assist the just ? 
When crimes provoke us, Heav'n success 

denies: 
The dart falls harmless, and the falchion 

flies.' 
Furious he said, and toward the Grecian 

crew 
(Seiz'd by the crest) th' unhappy warrior 

drew; 
Struggling he follow'd, while th' em- 

broider'd thong. 
That tied his helmet, dragg'd the Chief 

along. 
Then had his ruin crown'd Atrides' joy. 
But Venus treml)led for the Prince of 

Troy : 460 

Unseen she came, and burst the golden 

band^ 
And ieft an empty helmet in bis band. 



The casque, enraged, amidst the Greeks he 

threw; 
The Greeks with smiles the polish'd trophy 

view. 
Then, as once more he lifts the deadly 

dart, 
In thirst of vengeance, at his rival's heart. 
The Queen of Love her favour'd champion 

shrouds 
(For Gods can all things) in a veil of 

clouds. 
Rais'd from the field the panting youth she 

led. 
And gently laid him on the bridal bed, 470 
With pleasing sweets his fainting sense re- 
news. 
And all the dome perfumes with heav'nly 

dews. 
Meantime the brightest of the female 

kind. 
The matchless Helen, o'er the walls re- 

clin'd: 
To her, beset with Trojan beauties, came, 
In borrow'd form, the laughter - loving 

dame 
(She seem'd an ancient maid, well skill'd 

to cull 
The snowy fleece, and wind the twisted 

wool). 
The Goddess softly shook her silken vest 
That shed perfumes, and whisp'ring thus 

address'd: 480 

* Haste, happy nymph! for thee thy Paris 

calls 
Safe from the fight, in yonder lofty walls, 
Fair as a God! with odours round him 

spread 
He lies, and waits thee on the well-known 

bed. 
Not like a warrior parted from the foe. 
But some gay dancer in the public show.' 
She spoke, and Helen's secret soul was 

mov'd; 
She scorn' d the champion, but the man she 

lov'd. 
Fair Venus' neck, her eyes that sparkled 

fire. 
And breast, reveal'd the Queen of soft de- 
sire. 490 
Struck with her presence, straight the 

lively red 
Forsook her cheek; and trembling thus she 

said: 

* Then is it still thy pleasure to deceive ? 
And woman's frailty always to believe ? 



294 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Say, to new nations must I cross the main, 
Or carry wars to some soft Asian plain ? 
For whom must Helen break her second 

vow ? 
What other Paris is thy darling now ? 
Left to Atrides (victor in the strife) 
An odious conquest and a captive wife, 500 
Hence let me sail: and, if thy Paris bear 
My absence ill, let Venus ease his care. 
A handmaid Goddess at his side to wait. 
Renounce the glories of thy heav'nly state. 
Be fix'd for ever to the Trojan shore. 
His spouse, or slave; and mount the skies 

no more. 
For me, to lawless love no longer led, 
I scorn the coward, and detest his bed ; 
Else should I merit everlasting shame. 
And keen reproach from every Phrygian 

dame: 510 

111 suits it now the joys of love to know. 
Too deep my anguish, and too wild my woe.' 
Then thus, incens'd, the Paphian Queen 

replies: 
* Obey the power from whom thy glories 

rise: 
Should Venus leave thee, ev'ry charm must 

Fade from thy cheek, and languish in thy 

eye. 
Cease to provoke me, lest I make thee 

more 
The world's aversion, than their love before; 
Now the bright prize for which mankind 

engage, ^ 
Then, the sad victim of the public rage.' 520 

At this, the fairest of her sex obey'd. 
And veil'd her blushes in a silken shade ; 
Unseen, and silent, from the train she 

moves. 
Led by the Goddess of the smiles and loves. 
Arrived, and enter'd at the palace gate, 
The maids officious round their mistress 

wait: 
Then all, dispersing, various tasks attend; 
The Queen and Goddess to the Prince as- 
cend. 
Full in her Paris' sight the Queen of Love 
Had placed the beauteous progeny of Jove; 
Where, as he view'd her charms, she tum'd 

away 531 

Her glowing eyes, and thus began to say: 
* Is this the Chief, who, lost to sense of 

shame, 
Late fled the field, and yet survives his 

fame? 



Oh hadst thou died beneath the righteous 

sword 
Of that brave man whom once I call'd my 

lord! 
The boaster Paris oft desired the day 
With Sparta's King to meet in single fray: 
Go now, once more thy rival's rage excite, 
Provoke Atrides, and renew the fight: 540 
Yet Helen bids thee stay, lest thou un- 

skill'd 
Shouldst fall an easy conquest on the field.' 
The Prince replies: 'Ah cease, divinely 

fair. 
Nor add reproaches to the wounds I bear; 
This day the foe prevail'd by Pallas' power; 
We yet may vanquish in a happier hour: 
There want not Gods to favour us above; 
But let the bus'ness of our life be love: 
These softer moments let delights employ, 
And kind embraces snatch the hasty joy. 550 
Not thus I lov'd thee, when from Sparta's 

shore 
My forced, my willing, heav'nly prize I 

bore, 
When first entrane'd in Cranae's isle I lay, 
Mix'd with thy soul, and all dissolv'd 

away ! ' 
Thus having spoke, th' enamour'd Phrygian 

boy 
Rush'd to the bed, impatient for the joy. 
Him Helen follow'd slow with bashful 

charms, 
And clasp'd the blooming hero in her arms. 
While these to love's delicious rapture 

yield. 
The stern Atrides rages round the field : 560 
So some fell lion whom the woods obey. 
Roars thro' the desert, and demands his 

prey. 
Paris he seeks, impatient to destroy, 
But seeks in vain along the troops of Troy ; 
Ev'n those had yielded to a foe so brave 
The recreant warrior, hateful as the grave. 
Then speaking thus, the King of Kings 

arose : 
* Ye Trojans, Dardans, all our gen'rous foes! 
Hear and attest! from Heav'u with conquest 

crown'd. 
Our brother's arms the just success have 

found. 570 

Be therefore now the Spartan wealth r&- 

stor'd, 
Let Argive Helen own her lawful lord; 
Th' appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, 
And age to age record this signal day.' 



THE ILIAD 



29s 



He ceas'd; his army's loud applauses 
rise, 
And the long shout runs echoing thro' the 
skies. 

BOOK IV 

THE BREACH OF THE TRUCE, AND THE FIRST 
BATTLE 

THE ARGUMENT 

The Gods deliberate in council concerning- the 
Trojan war : they agree upon the continua- 
tion of it, and Jupiter sends down Minerva 
to break the truce. She persuades Pandarus 
to aim an arrow at Menelaus, who is wounded, 
but cured by Maehaon. In the mean time 
some of the Trojan troops attack the Greeks. 
Agamemnon is distinguished in all the parts 
of a good general; he reviews the troops, and 
exhorts the leaders, some by praises, and 
others by reproofs. Nestor is particularly cele- 
brated for his military discipline. The bat- 
tle joins, and great numbers are slain on 
both sides. 

The same day continues through this, as 
through the last book ; as it does also through 
the two following, and almost to the end of 
the seventh book. The scene is wholly in the 
field before Troy. 

And now Olympus' shining gates unsold; 
The Gods, with Jove, assume their thrones 

of gold: 
Immortal Heb^, fresh with bloom divine, 
The golden goblet crowns with purple wine: 
While the full bowls flow round, the 

Powers employ 
Their careful eyes on long-contended Troy. 
When Jove, disposed to tempt Saturnia's 

spleen, 
Thus waked the fury of his partial Queen: 
* Two Powers divine the son of Atreus aid. 
Imperial Juno, and the Martial Maid: 10 
But high in Heav'n they sit, and gaze from 

far, 
The tame spectators of his deeds of war. 
Not thus fair Venus helps her favour'd 

knight, 
The Queen of Pleasures shares the toils of 

fight, 
Each danger wards, and, constant in her 

care, 
Saves in the moment of the last despair. 
Her act has rescued Paris' forfeit life, 
Tho' great Atrides gain'd the glorious 

strife. 



Then say, ye Powers! what signal issue 
waits 

To crown this deed, and finish all the 
Fates ? 20 

Shall Heav'n by peace the bleeding king- 
doms spare. 

Or rouse the Furies, and awake the war ? 

Yet, would the Gods for human good pro- 
vide, 

Atrides soon might gain his beauteous 
bride. 

Still Priam's walls in peaceful honours grow, 

And thro' his gates the crowding nations 
flow.' 
Thus while he spoke, the Queen of 
Heav'n, enraged. 

And Queen of War, in close consult en- 
gaged: 

Apart they sit, their deep designs employ. 

And meditate the future woes of Troy. 30 

Tho' secret anger swell'd Minerva's breast, 

The prudent Goddess yet her wrath sup- 
press'd; 

But Juno, impotent of passion, broke 

Her sullen silence, and with fury spoke: 
* Shall then, O Tyrant of th' ethereal 
reign ! 

My schemes, my labours, and my hopes, be 
vain ? 

Have I, for this, shook Ilion with alarms. 

Assembled nations, set two worlds in arms ? 

To spread the war, I flew from shore to 
shore ; 

Th' immortal coursers scarce the labour 
bore. 40 

At length ripe vengeance o'er their heads 
impends, 

But Jove himself the faithless race de- 
fends; 

Loth as thou art to punish lawless lust. 

Not all the Gods are partial and unjust.' 
The Sire whose thunder shakes the 
cloudy skies. 

Sighs from his inmost soul, and thus replies: 

'Oh lasting rancour! oh insatiate hate 

To Phrygia's monarch and the Phrygian 
state! 

What high offence has fired the wife of 
Jove? 

Can wretched mortals harm the Powers 
above ? 50 

That Troy and Troy's whole race thou 
wouldst confound, 

And yon fair structures level with the 
ground ? 



296 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Haste, leave the skies, fulfil thy stern desire. 
Burst all her gates, and wrap her walls in 

fire! 
Let Priam bleed! if yet thou thirst for 

more, 
Bleed all his sons, and Ilion float with gore. 
To boundless vengeance the wide realm be 

giv'n 
Till vast destruction glut the Queen of 

Heav'n! 
So let it be, and Jove his peace enjoy. 
When Heav'n no longer hears the name of 

Troy. 60 

But should this arm prepare to wreak our 

hate 
Ou thy lov'd realms, whose guilt demands 

their fate, 
Presume not thou the lifted bolt to stay. 
Remember Troy, and give the vengeance 

way. 
For know, of all the numerous towns that 

rise 
Beneath the rolling sun, and starry skies. 
Which Gods have rais'd, or earth-born 

men enjoy; 
None stands so dear to Jove as sacred 

No mortals merit more distinguish'd grace 

Than godlike Priam, or than Priam's 
race : 70 

Still to our name their hecatombs expire. 

And altars blaze with unextingnish'd fire.' 
At this the Goddess roU'd her radiant 
eyes, 

Then on the Thund'rer fix'd them, and re- 
plies: 

'Three towns are Juno's on the Grecian 
plains, 

More dear than all th' extended earth con- 
tains, 

Mycenae, Argos, and the Spartan wall; 

These thou may'st raze, nor I forbid their 
fall: 

*T is not in me the vengeance to remove ; 

The crime 's sufficient that they share my 
love. 80 

Of power superior, why should I com- 
plain ? 

Resent I may, but must resent in vain. 

Yet some distinction Juno might require, 

Sprung with thyself from one celestial 
sire, 

A Goddess born to share the realms above, 

And styled the consort of the thund'ring 
Jove: 



Nor thou a wife and sister's right deny; 
Let both consent, and both by turns 

comply; 
So shall the Gods our joint decrees obej', 
And Heav'n shall act as we direct the 

way. 90 

See ready Pallas waits thy high commands, 
To raise in arms the Greek and Phrygian 

bands ; 
Their sudden friendship by her arts may 

cease. 
And the proud Trojans first infringe the 

peace.' 
The Sire of men, and Monarch of the 

sky, 
Th' advice approv'd, and bade Minerva fly, 
Dissolve the league, and all her arts em- 
ploy 
To make the breach the faithless act of 

Troy. 
Fired with the charge, she headlong 

urged her flight 
And shot like lightning from Olympus' 

height. 100 

As the red comet, from Saturnius sent 
To fright the nations with a dire portent 
(A fatal sign to armies on the plain. 
Or trembling sailors on the wintry main). 
With sweeping glories glides along in air, 
And shakes the sparkles from its blazing 

hair; 
Between both armies thus, in open sight, 
Shot the bright Goddess in a trail of light. 
With eyes erect, the gazing hosts admire 
The Power descending, and the Heav'ns on 

fire! no 

* The Gods ' (they cried), ' the Gods this 

signal sent. 
And Fate now labours with some vast 

event: 
Jove seals the league, or bloodier scenes 

prepares ; 
Jove, the great arbiter of peace and wars ! ' 
They said, while Pallas thro' the Trojan 

throng 
(In shape a mortal) pass'd disguised along. 
Like bold Laodocus, her course she bent. 
Who from Antenor traced his high descent. 
Amidst the ranks Lycabn's son she found, 
The warlike Pandarus, for strength re- 
no wn'd; 120 
Whose squadrons, led from black ^sepus' 

flood. 
With flaming shields in martial circle 

stood. 



THE ILIAD 



297 



To him the Goddess: 'Phrygian! canst 
thou hear 

A well-timed counsel with a willing ear ? 

What praise were thine, could'st thou di- 
rect thy dart, 

Amidst his triumph, to the Spartan's 
heart ? 

What gifts from Troy, from Paris, wouldst 
thou gain, 

Thy country's foe, the Grecian glory, slain ? 

Then seize th' occasion, dare the mighty 
deed. 

Aim at his breast, and may that aim suc- 
ceed! 130 

But first, to speed the shaft, address thy 
vow 

To Lycian Phoebus with the silver bow. 

And swear the firstlings of thy flock to 

pay 

On Zelia's altars, to the God of Day.' 
He heard, and madly at the motion 

pleas'd. 
His polish'd bow with hasty rashness 

seiz'd. 
'T was form'd of horn, and smooth'd with 

artful toil; 
A mountain goat resign'd the shining spoil. 
Who pierc'd long since beneath his arrows 

bled; 
The stately quarry on the cliffs lay 

dead, 140 

And sixteen palms his brow's large hon- 
ours spread: 
The workman join'd, and shaped the 

bended horns, 
And beaten gold each taper point adorns. 
This, by the Greeks unseen, the warrior 

bends, 
Screen'd by the shields of his surrounding 

friends. 
There meditates the mark, and, crouching 

low. 
Fits the sharp arrow to the well-strung 

bow. 
One, from a hundred feather' d deaths he 

chose. 
Fated to wound, and cause of future 

woes. 
Then offers vows with hecatombs to 

crown 150 

Apollo's altars in his native town. 

Now with full force the yielding horn he 

bends, 
Drawn to an arch, and joins the doubling 

ends; 



Close to his breast he strains the nerve 

below. 
Till the barb'd point approach the circling 

bow; 
Th' impatient weapon whizzes on the 

wing; 
Sounds the tough horn, and twangs the 

quiv'ring string. 
But thee, Atrides! in that dangerous 

hour 
The Gods forget not, nor thy guardian 

Power. 1 59 

Pallas assists, and (weaken'd in its force) 
Diverts the weapon from its destin'd 

course: 
So from her babe, when slumber seals his 

eye, 
The watchful mother wafts th' envenom'd 

fly. 

Just where his belt with golden buckles 

join'd. 
Where linen folds the double corslet lin'd. 
She turn'd the shaft, which, hissing from 

above, 
Pass'd the broad belt, and thro' the corslet 

drove ; 
The folds it pierc'd, the plaited linen tore, 
And razed the skin, and drew the purple 

gore. 
As when some stately trappings are de- 
creed 170 
To grace a monarch on his bounding steed, 
A nymph, in Caria or Mseonia bred, 
Stains the pure iv'ry with a lively red; 
With equal lustre various colours vie. 
The shining whiteness, and the Tyrian dye: 
So, great Atrides! shew'd thy sacred blood. 
As down thy snowy thigh distill'd the 

streaming flood. 
With horror seiz'd, the King of men de- 
scried 
The shaft infix'd, and saw the gushing 

tide : 

Nor less the Spartan fear'd, before he 

found 180 

The shining barb appear above the wound. 

Then, with a sigh that heav'd his manly 

breast, 
The royal brother thus his grief express'd, 
And grasp'd his hand; while all the Greeks 

around 
With answering sighs return'd the plaintive 
sound: 
* Oh dear as life! did I for this agree 
The solemn truce, a fatal truce to thee! 



298 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Wert thou exposed to all the hostile train, 
To fight for Greece, and conquer to be 

slain ? 
The race of Trojans in thy ruin join, 190 
And faith is scorn'd by all the perjured line. 
Not thus our vows, coufirm'd with wine 

and gore. 
Those hands we plighted, and those oaths 

we swore. 
Shall all be vain: when Heav'n's revenge 

is slow, 
Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer 

blow. 
The day shall come, the great avenging day. 
Which Troy's proud glories in the dust 

shall lay. 
When Priam's powers and Priam's self 

shall fall, 
And one prodigious ruin swallow all. 
I see the God, already, from the pole, 200 
Bare his red arm, and bid the thunder roll; 
I see th' Eternal all his fury shed, 
And shake his aegis o'er their guilty head. 
Such mighty woes on perjured Princes 

wait; 
But thou, alas! deserv'st a happier fate. 
Still must I mourn the period of thy days. 
And only mourn, without my share of 

praise ? 
Deprived of thee, the heartless Greeks no 

more 
Shall dream of conquests on the hostile 

shore ; 
Troy seized of Helen, and our glory 

lost, 210 

Thy bones shall moulder on a foreign 

coast: 
While some proud Trojan thus insulting 

cries 
(And spurns the dust where Menelaus lies) : 
" Such are the trophies Greece from Ilion 

brings, 
And such the conquest of her King of 



Kii 



igs! 



Lo his proud vessels scatter'd o'er the 
main, 

And unrevenged his mighty brother slain." 

Oh, ere that dire disgrace shall blast my 
fame, 

O'erwhelm me, earth! and hide a mon- 
arch's shame.' 
He said: a leader's and a brother's 
fears 220 

Possess his soul, which thus the Spartan 
cheers: 



* Let not thy words the warmth of Greece 
abate ; 

The feeble dart is guiltless of my fate: 

Stiff with the rich embroider'd work around, 

My varied belt repell'd the flying wound.' 
To whom the King: * My brother and 
my friend. 

Thus, always thus, may Heav'n thy life de- 
fend! 

Now seek some skilful hand, whose power- 
ful art 

May stanch th' effusion, and extract the 
dart. 

Herald, be swift, and bid Machaon bring 230 

His speedy succour to the Spartan King; 

Pierced with a winged shaft (the deed of 
Troy), 

The Grecian's sorrow and the Dardan's joy.' 
With hasty zeal the swift Talthybius 
flies; 

Thro' the thick files he darts his searching 
eyes. 

And finds Machaon, where sublime he 
stands 

In arms encircled with his native bands. 

Then thus: ' Machaon, to the King repair. 

His wounded brother claims thy timely 
care; 

Pierced by some Lycian or Dardanian 
bow, 240 

A grief to us, a triumph to the foe.' 

The heavy tidings grieved the godlike 
man; 

Swift to his succour through the ranks he 
ran: 

The dauntless King yet standing firm he 
found, 

And all the Chiefs in deep concern around. 

Where to the steelj' point the reed was 
join'd. 

The shaft he drew, but left the head be- 
hind. 

Straight the broad belt, with gay em- 
broid'ry graced. 

He loosed: the corslet from his breast un- 
braced ; 

Then suck'd the blood, and sov'reign balm 
infused, 250 

Which Chiron gave, and ^5^sculapius used. 
While round the Prince the Greeks era- 
ploy their care. 

The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war; 

Once more they glitter in refulgent arms. 

Once more the fields are fill'd with dire 
alarms. 



THE ILIAD 



299 



Nor had you seen the King of Men appear 

Confused, inactive, or surprised with fear; 

But fond of glory, with severe delight, 

His beating bosom claim'd the rising fight. 

No longer with his warlike steeds he stay'd. 

Or press'd the car with polish'd brass in- 
laid, 261 

But left Eurymedon the reins to guide; 

The fiery coursers snorted at his side. 

On foot thro' all the martial ranks he 
moves. 

And these encourages, and those reproves. 

* Brave men! ' he cries (to such who boldly 

dare 
Urge their swift steeds to face the coming 
war), 

* Your ancient valour on the foes approve; 
Jove is with Greece, and let us trust in 

Jove. 

*T is not for us, but guilty Troy, to 
dread, 270 

Whose crimes sit heavy on her perjured 
head: 

Her sons and matrons Greece shall lead in 
chains. 

And her dread warriors strew the mourn- 
ful plains.' 
Thus with new ardour he the brave in- 
spires; 

Or thus the fearful with reproaches fires: 

* Shame to your country, scandal of your 

kind! 
Born to the fate ye well deserve to find ; 
Why stand ye gazing round the dreadful 

plain. 
Prepared for flight, but doom'd to fly in 

vain ? 
Confused and panting, thus the hunted 

deer 280 

Falls as he flies, a victim to his fear. 
Still must ye wait the foes, and still retire, 
Till yon tall vessels blaze with Trojan fire? 
Or trust ye, Jove a valiant foe shall chase, 
To save a trembling, heartless, dastard 

race ? ' 
This said, he stalk'd with ample strides 

along. 
To Crete's brave monarch and his martial 

throng; 
High at their head he saw the Chief ap- 
pear. 
And bold Meriones excite the rear. 
At this the King his gen'rous joy express'd, 
And clasp 'd the warrior to his arm^d 

breast: 291 



' Divine Idomeneus! what thanks we owe 
To worth like thine ? what praise shall we 

bestow ? 
To thee the foremost honours are decreed, 
First in the fight, and ev'ry graceful deed 
For this, in banquets, when the gen'rous 

bowls 
Restore our blood, and raise the warriors' 

souls, 
Tho' all the rest with stated rules we 

bound, 
Unmix'd, unmeasured are thy goblets 

crown 'd. 
Be still thyself; in arms a mighty name; 30c 
Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy 

fame.' 
To whom the Cretan thus his speech ad- 

dress'd: 
* Secure of me, O King! exhort the rest: 
Fix'd to thy side, in ev'ry toil I share, 
Thy firm associate in the day of war. 
But let the signal be this moment giv'n; 
To mix in fight is all I ask of Heav'n. 
The field shall prove how perjuries suc- 
ceed, 
And chains or death avenge their impious 

deed.' 
Charm'd with this heat, the King his 

course pursues, 310 

And next the troops of either Ajax views: 
In one firm orb the bands were ranged 

around, 
A cloud of heroes blacken'd all the ground. 
Thus from the lofty promontory's brow 
A swain surveys the gath'ring storm below; 
Slow from the main the heavy vapours rise, 
Spread in dim streams, and sail along the 

skies, 
Till black as night the swelling tempest 

shews. 
The cloud condensing as the west-wind 

blows: 
He dreads th' impending storm, and drives 

his flock 320 

To the close covert of an arching rock. 
Such, and so thick, th' embattled squad- 
rons stood. 
With spears erect, a moving iron wood; 
A shady light was shot from glimm'ring 

shields. 
And their brown arms obscured the dusky 

fields. 
*0 Heroes! worthy such a dauntless 

train, 
Whose godlike virtue we but urge in vain' 



300 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



(Exclaim'd the King), * who raise your 

eager bands 
With great examples, more than loud 

commands. 
Ah would the Gods but breathe in all the 

rest 330 

Such souls as burn in your exalted breast! 
Soon should our arms with just success be 

crown'd. 
And Troy's proud walls lie smoking on the 

ground.' 
Then to the next the gen'ral bends his 

course 
(His heart exults, and glories in his force); 
There rev'rend Nestor ranks his Pylian 

bands. 
And with inspiring eloquence commands; 
With strictest order sets his train in arms. 
The Chiefs advises, and the soldiers warms. 
Alastor, Chromius, Hsemon, round him 

wait, 340 

Bias the good, and Pelagon the great. 
The horse and chariots to the front as- 

sign'd. 
The foot (the strength of war) he ranged 

behind; 
The middle space suspected troops supply. 
Enclosed by both, nor left the power to fly: 
He gives command to curb the fiery steed. 
Nor cause confusion, nor the ranks exceed: 
'Before the rest let none too rashly ride; 
No strength nor skill, but just in time, be 

tried : 
The charge once made, no warrior turn the 

rein, 350 

But fight, or fall; a firm, embodied train. 
He whom the fortune of the field shall cast 
From forth his chariot, mount the next in 

haste; 
Nor seek unpractis'd to direct the car, 
Content with jav'lins to provoke the war. 
Our great forefathers held this prudent 

course. 
Thus ruled their ardour, thus preserv'd 

their force. 
By laws like these immortal conquests 

made. 
And earth's proud tyrants low in ashes laid.' 

So spoke the master of the martial art, 
And touch'd with transport great Atrides' 

heart. 361 

* Oh! hadst thou strength to match thy 

brave desires. 
And nerves to second what thy soul in- 



spires 



But wasting years that wither humai> race, 
Exhaust thy spirits, and thy arms un- 
brace. 
What once thou wert, oh ever might'sfc 

thou be! 
And age the lot of any Chief but thee.' 
Thus to th' experienc'd Prince Atrides 
cried ; 
He shook his hoary locks, and thus replied: 
' Well might I wish, could mortal wish re- 
new 370 
That strength which once in boiling youth 

I knew; 
Such as I was, when Ereuthalion slain 
Beneath this arm fell prostrate on the 

plain. 
But Heav'n its gifts not all at once bestows, 
These years with wisdom crowns, with ac- 
tion those: 
The field of combat fits the young and 

bold. 
The solemn council best becomes the old: 
To you the glorious conflict I resign, 
Let sage advice, the palm of age, be mine.* 
He said. With joy the Monarch march'd 
before 380 

And found Menestheus on the dusty shore, 
With whom the firm Athenian phalanx 

stands; 
And next Ulysses, with his subject bands. 
Remote their forces lay, nor knew so far 
The peace infringed, nor heard the sounds 

of war; 
The tumult late begun, they stood intent 
To watch the motion, dubious of th' event. 
The King, who saw their squadrons yet un- 

mov'd. 
With hasty ardour thus the Chiefs re- 
prov'd: 
' Can Peteus' son forget a warrior's part, 
And fears Ulysses, skill'd in every art ? 391 
Why stand you distant, and the rest expect 
To mix in combat which yourselves neg- 
lect ? 
From you 't was hoped among the first to 

dare 
The shock of armies, and commence the 

war. 
For this your names are call'd before the 

rest, 
To share the pleasures of the genial feast: 
And can you, Chiefs! without a blush sur- 
vey 
Whole troops before you lab'ring in the 



fray? 



399 



THE ILIAD 



301 



Say, is it thus those honours you requite ? 
The first in banquets, but the last in fight.' 
Ulysses heard: the hero's warmth o'er- 

spread 
His cheek with blushes; and, severe, he 

said: 
*Take back th' unjust reproach! Behold 

we stand 
Sheathed in bright arms, and but expect 

command. 
If glorious deeds afford thy soul delight, 
Behold me plunging in the thickest fight. 
Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior's 

due. 
Who dares to act whate'er thou darest to 

view.' 
Struck with his gen'rous wrath, the King 

replies: 410 

* Oh great in action, and in council wise! 
With ours, thy care and ardour are the 

same. 
Nor need I to command, nor ought to 

blame. 
Sage as thou art, and learn'd in human 

kind. 
Forgive the transport of a martial mind. 
Haste to the fight, secure of just amends; 
The Gods that make shall keep the wor- 
thy friends.' 
He said, and pass'd where great Tydides 

lay. 
His steeds and chariots wedg'd in firm 

array 419 

(The warlike Sthenelus attends his side) ; 
To whom with stern reproach the Monarch 

cried: 

* Oh son of Tydeus ' (he whose strength 

could tame 
The bounding steed, in arms a mighty 
name), 

* Canst thou, remote, the mingling hosts 

decry, 

With hands inactive, and a careless eye ? 

Not thus thy sire the fierce encounter 
f ear'd ; 

Still first in front the matchless Pruice ap- 
pear'd : 

What glorious toils, what wonders they re- 
cite. 

Who view'd him lab'ring thro' the ranks of 
fight! 

I saw him once, when, gath'ring martial 
powers, 430 

A peaceful guest he sought Mycenae's tow- 
ers; 



Armies he ask'd, and armies had been 

giv'n, 
Not we denied, but Jove forbade from 

Heav'n ; 
While dreadful comets glaring from afar 
Forewarn'd the horrors of the Theban war. 
Next, sent by Greece from where Asopus 

fiows, 
A fearless envoy, he approach'd the foes; 
Thebes' hostile walls, unguarded and alone, 
Dauntless he enters and demands the 

throne. 
The tyrant, feasting with his Chiefs he 

found, 440 

And dared to combat all those Chiefs 

around; 
Dared and subdued, before their haughty 

lord; 
For Pallas strung his arm, and edg'd his 

sword. 
Stung with the shame, within the winding 

way. 
To bar his passage fifty warriors lay; 
Two heroes led the secret squadron on, 
Mpeon the fierce, and hardy Lycophon; 
Those fifty slaughter'd in the gloomy vale, 
He spared but one to bear the dreadful 

tale. 
Such Tydeus was, and such his martial 

fire ; 450 

Gods! how the son degen'rates from the 

sire! ' 
No words the godlike Diomed return'd. 
But heard respectful, and in secret burn'd: 
Not so fierce Capaneus' undaunted son; 
Stern as his sire, the boaster thus begun: 
' What needs, O Monarch, this invidious 

praise. 
Ourselves to lessen, while our sires you 

raise ? 
Dare to be just, Atrides! and confess 
Our valour equal, tho' our fury less. 
With fewer troops we storm'd the Theban 

wall, 460 

And, happier, saw the sev'nfold city fall. 
In impious acts the guilty fathers died; 
The sons subdued, for Heav'n was on their 

side. 
Far more than heirs of all our parents* 

fame, 
Our glories darken their diminish'd name.' 
To him Tydides thus: 'My friend, for- 
bear, 
Suppress thy passion, and the King re- 
vere: 



302 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



His high concern may well excuse this 

rage, 
Whose cause we follow, and whose war we 

wage; 
His the first praise, were Iliou's towers 

o'erthrown, 470 

And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own. 
Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite, 
'T is ours to labour in the glorious fight.' 
He spoke, and ardent on the trembling 

ground 
Sprung from his car; his ringing arms re- 
sound. 
Dire was the clang, and dreadful from afar, 
Of arm'd Tydides rushing to the war. 
As when the winds, ascending by degrees, 
First move the whitening surface of the 

seas. 
The billows float in order to the shore, 480 
The wave behind rolls on the wave before; 
Till, with the growing storm, the deeps 

arise. 
Foam o'er the rocks, and thunder to the 

skies: 
S© to the fight the thick battalions throiig. 
Shields urged on shields, and men drove 

men along. 
Sedate and silent move the numerous 

bands; 
No sound, no whisper, but their Chief's 

commands. 
Those only heard ; with awe the rest obey. 
As if some God had snatch'd their voice 

away. 
Not so the Trojans; from their host as- 
cends 490 
A gen'ral shout that all the region rends. 
As when the fleecy flocks unnumber'd 

stand 
In wealthy folds, and wait the milker's 

hand. 
The hollow vales incessant bleating fills. 
The lambs reply from all the neighb'ring 

hills: 
Such clamours rose from various nations 

round, 
Mix'd was the murmur, and confused the 

sound. 
Each host now joins, and each a God in- 
spires. 
These Mars incites, and those Minerva fires. 
Pale Flight around, and dreadful Terror 

reign; ; 500 

And Discord raging bathes the purple 

plain: 



Discord! dire sister of the slaught'ring 

Power, 
Small at her birth, but rising ev'ry hour; 
While scarce the skies her horrid head can 

bound, 
She stalks on earth, and shakes the world 

around ; 
The nations bleed, where'er her steps she 

turns; 
The groan still deepens, and the combat 

burns. 
Now shield with shield, with helmet 

helmet closed. 
To armour armour, lance to lance opposed. 
Host against host with shadowy squadrons 

drew, 510 

The sounding darts in iron tempests flew. 
Victors and vanquish'd join promiscuous 

cries. 
And shrilling shouts and dying groans 

arise; 
With streaming blood the slipp'ry fields are 

dyed. 
And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful 

tide. 
As torrents roll, increas'd by numerous 

rills. 
With rage impetuous down their echoing 

hills; 
Rush to the vales, and, pour'd along the 

plain. 
Roar thro' a thousand channels to the 

main; 
The distant shepherd trembling hears the 

sound: 520 

So mix both hosts, and so their cries re- 
bound. 
The bold Antilochus the slaughter led, 
The first who struck a valiant Trojan dead: 
At great Echepolus the lance arrives. 
Razed his high crest and thro' his helmet 

drives; 
Warm'd in the brain the brazen weapon 

lies, 
And shades eternal settle o'er his eyes. 
So sinks a tower that long assaults had 

stood 
Of force and fire, its walls besmear'd with 

blood. 
Him, the bold leader of th' Abantian throng 
Seized to despoil, and dragg'd the corpse 

along: 531 

But, while he strove to tug th' inserted 

dart, 
Agenor's jav'lin reach'd the hero's heart. 



THE ILIAD 



303 



His flank, unguarded by his ample shield, 
Admits the lance: he falls, and spurns the 

field; 
The nerves unbraced support his limbs no 

more: 
The soul comes floating in a tide of gore. 
Trojans and Greeks now gather round fclie 

slain; 538 

The war renews, the warriors bleed again; 
As o'er their prey rapacious wolves engage, 
Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage. 

In blooming youth fair Simoisius fell. 
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of Hell: 
Fair Simoisius, whom his mother bore 
Amid the flocks, on silver Simois' shore: 
The nymph, descending from the hills of 

Ide, 
To seek her parents on his flowery side, 
Brought forth the babe, their common care 

and joy, 
And thence from Simois named the lovely 

boy. 
Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax slain 
He falls, and renders all their cares in 

vain! 551 

So falls a poplar, that in wat'ry ground 
Rais'd high the head, with stately branches 

crown'd 
(Fell'd by some artist with his shining steel. 
To shape the circle of the bending wheel); 
Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely 

spread, 
With all its beauteous honours on its head; 
There, left a subject to the wind and rain. 
And scorch'd by suns, it withers on the 

plain. 
Thus, pierc'd by Ajax, Simoisius lies 560 
Stretch'd on the shore, and thus neglected 

dies. 
At Ajax, Antiphus his jav'Hn threw: ^ 
The pointed lance with erring fury flew, > 
And Leucus, loved by wise Ulysses, slew. J 
He drops the corpse of Simoisius slain, 
And sinks a breathless carcass on the plain. 
This saw Ulysses, and, with grief enraged. 
Strode where the foremost of the foes en- 
gaged; 
Arm'd with his spear, he meditates the 

wound, 
In act to throw; but, cautious, look'd 

around. 570 

Struck at his sight the Trojans backward 

drew. 
And trembling heard the jav'lin as it 

flew. 



A Chief stood nigh, who from Abydos 

came. 
Old Priam's son, Democoon was his name; 
The weapon enter' d close above his ear, 
Cold thro' his temples glides the whizzing 

spear; 
With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his 

breath. 
His eye-balls darken with the shades of 

death ; 
Pond'rous he falls; his clanging arms re- 
sound ; 
And his broad buckler rings against the 

ground. 580 

Seiz'd with affright the boldest foes ap- 
pear; 
Ev'n godlike Hector seems himself to fear; 
Slow he gave way, the rest tumultuous fled; 
The Greeks with shouts press on, and spoil 

the dead. 
But Phcebus now from Ilion's tow'ring 

height 
Shines forth reveal'd, and animates the 

fight. 
* Trojans, be bold, and force with force 

oppose; 
Your foaming steeds urge headlong on the 

foes! 
Nor are their bodies rocks, nor ribb'd with 

steel; 
Your weapons enter, and your strokes they 

feel. 590 

Have you forgot what seem'd your dread 

before ? 
The great, the fierce Achilles fights no 

more.' 
Apollo thus from Ilion's lofty towers, 
Array'd in terrors, rous'd the Trojan pow- 
ers: 
While war's fierce Goddess fires the Grecian 

foe, 
And shouts and thunders in the fields below. 
Then great Diores fell, by doom divine; 
In vain his valour and illustrious line. 
A broken rock the force of Pirus threw 
(Who from cold ^iEnus led the Thracian 

crew); 600 

Full on his ankle dropp'd the pond'rous 

stone. 
Burst the strong nerves, and crash'd the 

solid bone: 
Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands, 
Before his helpless friends, and native 

bands. 
And spreads for aid his unavailing hands. ^ 



304 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The foe rush'd furious as he pants for 

breath, 
And thro' his navel drove the pointed 

death: 
His gushing entrails smoked upon the 

ground, 
And the warm life came issuing from the 

wound. 
His lance bold Thoas at the conqu'ror 

sent, 6io 

Deep in his breast above the pap it went. 
Amid the lungs was fix'd the winged 

wood, 
And quiv'ring in his heaving bosom stood: 
Till from the dying Chief, approaching 

near, 
Th' -^tolian warrior tugg'd his weighty 

spear: 
Then sudden waved his flaming falchion 

round, 
And gash'd his belly with a ghastly wound. 
The corpse now breathless on the bloody 

plain, 
To spoil his arms the victor strove in 

vain ; 
The Thracian bands against the victor 

press'd; 620 

A grove of lances glitter'd at his breast. 
Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes. 
In sullen fury slowly quits the prize. 

Thus fell two heroes, one the pride of 

Thrace, 
And one the leader of th' Epeian race; 
Death's sable shade at once o'ercast their 

eyes, 
In dust the vanquish'd and the victor 

lies. 
With copious slaughter all the fields are 

red. 
And heap'd with growing mountains of the 

dead. 
Had some brave Chief this martial scene 

beheld, 630 

By Pallas guarded thro' the dreadful field. 
Might darts be bid to turn their points 

away. 
And swords around him innocently play. 
The war's whole art with wonder had he 

seen, 
And counted heroes where he counted 

men. 
So fought each host, with thirst of glory 

fired, 
And crowds on crowds triumphantly ex- 
pired. 



OBSERVATIONS ON HOMER'S BATTLES 

It may be necessary, at the opening- of Ho- 
mer's battles, to give some explanatory observa- 
tions ujK)n them. When we reflect that no 
less than the compass of twelve books is taken 
up in these, we shall have reason to wonder by 
what method the author could prevent descrip- 
tions of such a length from being tedious. It 
is not enough to say, that though the subject 
itself be the same, the actions are always dif- 
ferent ; that we have now distinct combats, 
now promiscuous fights, now single duels, now 
general engagements ; or that the scenes are 
perpetually varied ; we are now in the fields, 
now at the fortification of the Greeks, now at 
the ships, now at the gates of Troy, now at the 
river Scamander : but we must look farther 
into the art of the poet to find the reasons of 
this astonishing variety. 

We first observe that diversity in the deaths 
of his warriors, which he has supplied by the 
vastest fertility of invention. These he dis- 
tinguishes several ways : sometimes by the 
Characters of the men, their age, ojfice, profes- 
sion, nation, faviily, etc. One is a blooming 
Youth, whose father dissuaded him from the 
war ; one is a Priest, whose piety coxdd not save 
him : one is a Sportsman, whom Diana taught 
in vain ; one is the native of a far distant coun- 
try, who is never to return ; one is descended 
from a Noble Line, which ends in his death ; 
one is made remarkable by his Boasting ; 
another by his Beseeching ; and another, who 
is distinguished no way else, is marked by his 
Habit, and the singularity of his armour. 

Sometimes he varies these by the several 
Postures in which his heroes are represented 
either fighting or falling. Some of these are 
so exceedingly exact, that one may guess, from 
the very position of tlie combatant, where- 
abouts the wound will light : others so very 
peculiar and uncommon, that they could only 
be the eft'ect of an imagination which had 
searched through all the ideas of nature. Such 
is that picture of Mydou in the fifth book, 
whose arm being numbed by a blow on the 
elbow, drops the reins, that trail on the 
ground ; and then being suddenly struck on 
the temples, falls headlong from the chariot, 
in a soft and deep place, Avhere he sinks up to 
the shoulders in the sands, and continues a 
while fixed by the weight of his armour, with 
his legs quivering in the air, till he is trampled 
down by his horses. 

Another cause of this variety is the difference 
of the Wounds that are given in the Iliad : they 
are by no means like the wounds described by 
most other poets, which are commonly made 
in the self -same obvious places ; the heart and 



THE ILIAD 



305 



head serve for all those in general who under- 
stand no anatomy, and sometimes, for variety, 
they kill men by wounds that are nowhere 
mortal but in their poems. As tlie whole hu- 
man body is the subject of these, so nothing is 
more necessary to him who would describe 
them well, than a thorough knowledge of its 
structure, even though the poet is not profes- 
sedly to write of them as an anatomist ; in the 
same manner as an exact skill in anatomy is 
necessary to those painters that would excel in 
drawing the naked body, though they are not 
to make every muscle as visible as in a book 
of chirurgery. It appears from so many pas- 
sages in Homer, that he was perfectly master 
of this science, that it would be needless to 
cite any in particular. 

It may be necessary to take notice of some 
customs of antiquity relating to the Arms and 
Art Military of those times, which are proper 
to be known, in order to form a right notion of 
our author's descriptions of war. 

That Homer copied the manners and customs 
of the age he wrote of, rather than of that he 
lived in, has been observed in some instances. 
As that he nowhere represents Cavalry or 
Trumpets to have been used in the Trojan wars, 
though they apparently were in his own time. 
It is not therefore impossible but there may be 
found in his works some deficiencies in the art 
of war, which are not to be imputed to his igno- 
rance, but to his judgment. 

Horses had not been brought into Greece 
long before the siege of Troy. They were 
originally eastern animals, and if we find at 
that very period so great a nun)ber of them 
reckoned up in the wars of the Israelites, it is 
the less a wonder, considering they came from. 
Asia. The practice of riding them was so 
little known in Greece a few years before, that 
they looked upon the Centaurs who first used 
it, as monsters compounded of men and horses. 
Nestor, in the first Iliad, says he had seen these 
Centaurs in his youth, and Polypcetes in the 
second is said to have been born on the day 
that his father expelled them from Pelion to 
the deserts of ^thica. They had no other use 
of horses than to draw their chariots in battle, 
so that whenever Homer speaks of Jighting 
from a horse, taming a horse, or the like, it is 
constantly to be understood of fighting from a 
chariot, or taming horses to that service. This 
was a piece of decorum in the poet ; for in his 
own time they were arrived to such a perfection 
in horsemanship, that in the fifteenth Iliad, 
ver. 822, we have a simile taken from an extra- 
ordinary feat of activity, where one man man- 
ages four horses at once, and leaps from the 
back of one to another at full speed. 

If we consider in what high esteem among 



warriors these noble animals must have been 
at their first coming into Greece, we shall the 
less wonder at the frequent occasions Homer 
has taken to describe and celebrate them. 
It is not so strange to find them set almost 
upon a level with men, at the time when a 
horse in the prizes was of equal value with a 
captive. 

The Chariots were in all probability very 
low. For we frequently find in the Iliad, that 
a person who stands erect on a chariot is killed 
(and sometimes by a stroke on the head), by a 
foot soldier with a sword. This may farther 
appear from the ease and readiness with which 
they alight or mount on every occasion, to 
facilitate which, the chariots were made open 
behind. That the wheels were but small, may 
be guessed from a custom they had of taking 
them off and setting them on, as they were 
laid by, or made use of. Hebe in the fifth 
book puts on the wheels of Juno's chariot when 
she calls for it in haste : and it seems to be 
with allusion to the same practice that it is 
said in Exodus, ch. xiv., The Lord took off their 
chariot-wheels, so that they drove them heavily. 
The sides were also low ; for whoever is killed 
in his chariot throughout the poem, constantly 
falls to the ground, as having nothing to sup- 
port* him. That the whole machine was very 
small and light, is evident from a passage in 
the tenth Iliad, where Diomed debates whether 
he shall draw the chariot of Rhesus out of the 
way, or carry it on his shoulders to a place of 
safety. All the particulars agree with the 
representations of the chariots on the most 
ancient Greek coins ; where the tops of them 
reached not so high as the backs of the horses ; 
the wheels are yet lower, and the heroes who 
stand in them, are seen from the knee upwards. 

There were generally two persons in each 
chariot, one of whom was wholly employed in 
guiding the horses. They used, indifferently, 
two, three, or four horses : from whence it 
happens, that sometimes when ahorse is killed, 
the hero continues the fight with the two or 
more that remain ; and at other times a war- 
rior retreats upon the loss of one ; not that he 
had less courage than the other, but that he 
has fewer horses. 

Their Swords were all broad cutting swords, 
for we find they never stab but with their 
spears. The Spears were used two ways, either 
to push with, or to east from them, like the 
missive javelins. It seems surprising, that a 
man should throw a dart or spear with such 
force, as to pierce through both sides of the 
armour and the body (as is often described in 
Homer) : for if the strength of the men was 
gigantic, the armour must have been strong in 
proportion. Some solution might be given for 



3o6 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



this, if we imagined the armour was generally 
brass, and the weapons pointed with iron ; and 
if we could fancy that Homer called the spears 
and swords brazen, in the same manner that he 
calls the reins of a bridle ivory, only from the 
ornaments about them. But there are pas- 
sages where the point of the spear is expressly 
said to be of brass, as in the description of that 
of Hector in Iliad vi. Pausanias (Laconicis) 
takes it for granted, that the arms, as well 
oflPensive as defensive, were brass. He says 
the spear of Achilles was kept in his time in 
the temple of Minerva, the top and point of 
which were of brass; and the sword of Meri- 
ones, in that of ^sculapius among the Nico- 
medians, was entirely of the same metal. But 
be it as it will, there are examples even at this 
day of such a prodigious force in casting darts, 
as almost exceeds credibility. The Turks and 
Arabs will pierce through thick planks with 
darts of hardened wood ; which can only be 
attributed to their being bred (as the ancients 
were) to that exercise, and to the strength and 
agility acquired by a constant practice of it. 

We may ascribe to the same cause their 
power of casting stones of a vast weight, which 
appears a common practice in these battles. 
It is an error to imagine this to be only a ficti- 
tious embellishment of the poet, which was one 
of the exercises of war among the ancient 
Greeks and Orientals. St. Jerome tells us, it 
was an old custom in Palestine, and in use in 
his own time, to have round stones of a great 
weight kept in the castles and villages, for the 
youth to try their strength with. 



BOOK V 

THE ACTS OF DIOMED 
THE ARGUMENT 

DIomed, assisted by Pallas, performs wonders 
in this day's battle. Pandarus wounds him 
with an arrow, but the Goddess cures him, 
enables him to discern Gods from mortals, 
and prohibits him from contending with any 
of the former, excepting Venus, .^neas joins 
Pandarus to oppose him. Pandarus is killed, 
and .((Eneas in great danger but for the as- 
sistance of Venus ; who, as she is removing 
her son from the fight, is wounded on the 
hand by Diomed. Apollo seconds her in his 
rescue, and, at length, carries off ^neas to 
Troy, where he is healed in the temple of 
Pergamus. Mars rallies the Trojans, and 
assists Hector to make a stand. In the mean 
time .^neas is restored to the field, and they 
overthrow several of the Greeks ; among the 



rest Tlepolemus is slain by Sarpedon. Juno 
and Minerva descend to resist Mars ; the 
latter incites Diomed to go against that God ; 
he wounds him, and sends him groaning to 
Heaven. 
The first battle continues through this book. 
The scene is the same as in the former. 

But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires, 
Fills with her force, and warms with all 

her fires. 
Above the Greeks his deathless fame to 

raise. 
And crown her hero with distinguish'd 

praise. 
High on his helm celestial lightnings play, 
His beamy shield emits a living ray; 
Th' unwearied blaze incessant streams sup- 
plies, 
Like the red star that fires th' autumnal 

skies. 
When fresh he rears his radiant orb to 

sight, 
And bathed in Ocean shoots a keener light. 
Such glories Pallas on the Chief bestow'd, n 
Such, from his arms, the fierce effulgence 

flow'd: 
Onward she drives him, furious to engage, 
Where the fight burns, and where the 

thickest rage. 
The sons of Dares first the combat 

sought, 
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault; 
In Vulcan's fane the father's days were 

led; 
The sons to toils of glorious battle bred ; 
These, singled from their troops, the fight 

maintain; 
These from their steeds, Tydides on the 

plain. 20 

Fierce for renown the brother Chiefs draw 

near, 
And first bold Phegeus casts his sounding 

spear. 
Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took its 

course. 
And spent in empty air its erring force. 
Not so, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain. 
But pierced his breast, and stretch'd him 

on the plain. 
Seiz'd with unusual fear, Idaeus fled. 
Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead; 
And had not Vulcan lent celestial aid, 
He too had sunk to death's eternal shade ; 30 
But in a smoky cloud the God of Fire 
Preserv'd the son, in pity to the sire. 



THE ILIAD 



307 



The steeds and chariot, to the navy led, 
Inereas'd the spoils of gallant Diomed. 
Struck with amaze and shame, the Trojan 

crew 
Or slain, or fled, the sons of Dares view; 
When by the blood-stain'd hand Minerva 

press'd 
The God of Battles, and this speech ad- 

dress'd: 
• Stern Power of War! by whom the 

mighty fall, 
Who bathe in blood, and shake the lofty 

wall! 40 

Let the brave Chiefs their glorious toils 

divide; 
And whose the conquest mighty Jove de- 
cide: 
While we from interdicted fields retire. 
Nor tempt the wrath of Heav'n's avenging 

Sire.' 
Her words allay th' impetuous warrior's 

heat, 
The God of Arms and Martial Maid re- 
treat; 
Remov'd from fight, on Xanthus' flowery 

bounds 
They sat, and listen'd to the dying sounds. 
Meantime, the Greeks the Trojan race 

pursue. 
And some bold chieftain every leader slew: 
First Odius falls and bites the bloody 

sand, 51 

His death ennobled by Atrides' hand; 
As he to flight his wheeling car address'd. 
The speedy jav'lin drove from back to 

breast. 
In dust the mighty Halizonian lay. 
His arms resound, the spirit wings its way. 
Thy fate was next, O Phaestus! doom'd 

to feel 
The great Idomeneus' protended steel; 
Whom Borus sent (his son and only joy^) 
From fruitful Tarne to the fields of Troy. 60 
The Cretan jav'lin reach'd him from afar, 
And pierc'd his shoulder as he mounts his 

car; 
Back from the car he tumbles to the 

ground, 
And everlasting shades his eyes surround. 
Then died Scamandrius, expert in the 

chase, 
In woods and wilds to wound the savage 

race; 
Diana taught him all her sylvan arts, 
To bend the bow, and aim unerring darts; 



But vainly here Diana's arts he tries. 
The fatal lance arrests him as he flies; 7c 
From Menelaus' arm the weapon sent. 
Thro' his broad back and heaving bosom 

went: 
Down sinks the warrior with a thund'ring 

sound. 
His brazen armour rings against the 

ground. 
Next artful Phereclus untimely fell; 
Bold Merion sent him to the realms of 

Hell. 
Thy father's skill, Phereclus, was thine, 
The graceful fabric and the fair design; 
For, lov'd by Pallas, Pallas did impart 
To him the shipwright's and the builder's 

art. 80 

Beneath his hand the fleet of Paris rose, 
The fatal cause of all his country's woes; 
But he, the mystic will of Heav'n un- 
known. 
Nor saw his country's peril, nor his own. 
The hapless artist, while confused he fled. 
The spear of Merion mingled with the 

dead. 
Thro' his right hip, with forceful fury cast. 
Between the bladder and the bone it pass'd; 
Prone on his knees he falls with fruitless 

cries, 
And death in lasting slumber seals his 

eyes. 90 

From Meges' force the swift Pedseus fled, 
Antenor's offspring from a foreign bed; 
Whose gen'rous spouse, Theano, heav'nly 

fair, 
Nurs'd the young stranger with a mother's 

care. 
How vain those cares! when Meges in the 

rear 
Full in his nape infix'd the fatal spear; 
Swift thro' his crackling jaws the 

weapon glides. 
And the cold tongue and grinning teeth 

divides. 
Then died Hypsenor, gen'rous and divine. 
Sprung from the brave Dolopion's mighty 

line, loa 

Who near ador'd Scamander made abode. 
Priest of the stream, and honour'd as a God. 
On him, amidst the flying numbers found, 
Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound; 
On his broad shoulder fell the forceful 

brand. 
Thence glancing downward lopp'd his holy 

hand, 



3o8 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Which stain'd with sacred blood the blush- 
ing sand. 

Down sunk the priest: the purple hand of 
death 

Closed his dim eye, and Fate suppress'd his 
breath. 
Thus toil'd the Chiefs, in difF'rent parts 
engaged, no 

In ev'ry quarter fierce Tydides raged. 

Amid the Greek, amid the Trojan train, 

Rapt thro' the ranks he thunders o'er the 
plain ; 

Now here, now there, he darts from place 
to place, 

Pours on the rear, or lightens in their face. 

Thus from high hills the torrents swift and 
strong 

Deluge whole fields, and sweep the trees 
along; 

Thro' ruin'd moles the rushing wave re- 
sounds, 

O'erwhelms the bridge, and bursts the 
lofty bounds; 

The yellow harvests of the ripen'd year, 120 

And flatted vineyards, one sad waste ap- 
pear! 

While Jove descends in sluicy sheets of 
rain. 

And all the labours of mankind are vain. 
So raged Tydides, boundless in his ire. 

Drove armies back, and made all Troy re- 
tire. 

With grief the leader of the Lycian band 

Saw the wide waste of his destructive 
hand: 

His bended bow against the Chief he drew; 

Swift to the mark the thirsty arrow flew. 

Whose forky point the hollow breastplate 
tore, 130 

Deep in his shoulder pierc'd, and drank the 
gore; 

The rushing stream his brazen armour dyed. 

While the proud archer thus exulting cried: 
* Hither, ye Trojans, hither drive your 
steeds! 

Lo! by our hand the bravest Grecian bleeds. 

Not long the deatbful dart he can sustain; 

Or Phcebus urged me to these fields in 
vain.' 
So spoke he, boastful; but the winged 
dart 

Stopp'd short of life, and mock'd the shoot- 
er's art. 139 

The wounded Chief, behind his ear retired, 

The helping hand of Stheuelus required; 



Swift from his seat he leap'd upon the 

ground. 
And tugg'd the weapon from the gushing 

wound ; 
When thus the King his guardian Power 

address'd. 
The purple current wand'ring o'er his 

vest: 
' O progeny of Jove! unconquer'd maid! 
If e'er my godlike sire deserv'd thy aid. 
If e'er I felt thee in the fighting field ; 
Now, Goddess, now, thy sacred succour 

yield. 
Oh give my lance to reach the Trojan 

knight, 150 

Whose arrow wounds the Chief thou 

guard 'st in fight; 
And lay the boaster grov'ling on the shore. 
That vaunts these eyes shall view the light 

no more.' 
Thus pray'd Tydides, and Minerva 

heard, 
His nerves confirm'd, his languid spirits 

cheer'd; 
He feels each limb with wonted vigour 

light; 
His beating bosom claims the promis'd 

fight. 
* Be bold ' (she cried), ' in every combat 

shine. 
War be thy province, thy protection mine; 
Rush to the fight, and every foe control; 160 
Wake each paternal virtue in thy soul: 
Strength swells thy boiling breast infused 

by me. 
And all thy godlike father breathes in 

thee! 
Yet more, from mortal mists I purge thy 

eyes. 
And set to view the warring deities. 
These see thou shun, thro' all th' em- 
battled plain, 
Nor rashly strive where human force is 

vain. 
If Venus mingle in the martial band, 
Her shalt thou wound: so Pallas gives 

command.' 
With that, the Blue-eyed Virgin wing'd 

her flight; 170 

The hero rush'd impetuous to the fight; 
With tenfold ardour now invades the plain, 
Wild with delay, and more enraged by 

pain. 
As on the fleecy flocks, when hunger calls, 
Amidst the field a brindled lion falls; 



THE ILIAD 



309 



If chance some shepherd with a distant 

dart 
The savage wound, he rouses at the smart, 
He foams, he roars; the shepherd dares not 

stay. 
But trembling leaves the scatt'ring flocks a 

prey. 
Heaps fall on heaps; he bathes with blood 

the ground, 180 

Then leaps victorious o'er the lofty mound. 
Not with less fury stern Tydides flew. 
And two brave leaders at an instant slew; 
A sty nous breathless fell, and by his side 
His people's pastor, good Hypenor, died; 
Astynous' breast the deadly lance receives, 
Hypenor's shoulder his broad falchion 

cleaves. 
Those slain he left; and sprung with noble 

rage 
Abas and Polyidus to engage; 
Sons of Eurydamas, who, wise and old, 190 
Could fates foresee, and mystic dreams un- 
fold; 
The youths returned not from the doubtful 

plain. 
And the sad father tried his arts in vain; 
No mystic dream could make their fates 

appear, 
Tho' now determin'd by Tydides' spear. 
Young Xanthus next, and Thoon felt his 

rage. 
The joy and hope of Phsenops' feeble age; 
Vast was his wealth, and these the only 

heirs 
Of all his labours, and a life of cares. 
Cold death o'ertakes them in their bloom- 
ing years, 200 
And leaves the father unavailinsf tears: 
To strangers now descends his heapy store. 
The race forgotten, and the name no more. 

Two sons of Priam in one chariot ride, 
Glitt'ring in arms, and combat side by 

side. 
As when the lordly lion seeks his food 
Where grazing heifers range the lonely 

wood. 
He leaps amidst them with a furious bound. 
Bends their strong necks, and tears them 

to the ground: 
So from their seats the brother Chiefs are 

torn, 210 

Their steeds and chariots to the navy 

borne. 
With deep concern divine iEneas view'd 
The foe prevailing and his friends pursued; ■' 



Thro' the thick storm of singing spears he 

flies, 
Exploring Pandarus with careful eyes. 
At length he found Lycabn's mighty son; 
To whom the Chief of Venus' race begun: 
' Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours 

now. 
Thy winged arrows and unerring bow, 
Thy matchless skill, thy yet unrivall'd 

fame, 220 

And boasted glory of the Lycian name ? 
Oh pierce that mortal! if we mortal call 
That wondrous force by which whole armies 

fall; 
Or God incens'd, who quits the distant 

skies 
To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice; 
(Which oh avert from our unhappy state! 
For what so dreadful as celestial hate) ? 
Whoe'er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer; 
If man, destroy; if God, entreat to spare.' 
To him the Lycian: ' Whom your eyes 

behold, 230 

If right I judge, is Diomed the bold. 
Such coursers whirl him o'er the dusty 

field, 
So towers his helmet, and so flames his 

shield. 
If 't is a God, he wears that Chief's dis- 
guise; 
Or if that Chief, some guardian of the 

skies, 
Involv'd in clouds, protects him in the 

fray, 
And turns unseen the frustrate dart away. 
I wing'd an arrow, which not idly fell; 
The stroke had fix'd him to the gates of 

Hell; 
And, but some God, some angry God with- 
stands, 240 
His fate was due to these unerring hands. 
Skill'd in the bow, on foot I sought the 

war, 
Nor join'd swift horses to the rapid car. 
Ten polish'd chariots I possess'd at home. 
And still they grace Lycabn's princely 

dome: 
There veil'd in spacious coverlets they 

stand ; 
And twice ten coursers wait their lord's 

command. 
The good old warrior bade me trust to 

these, 
When first for Troy I sail'd the sacred 

seas; 



310 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



In fields, aloft, the whirling car to guide, 250 
And thro' the ranks of death triumphant 

ride. 
But vain with youth, and yet to thrift in- 
clined, 
I heard his counsels with unheedful mind. 
And thought the steeds (your large sup- 
plies unknown) 
Might fail of forage in the straiten'd town ; 
So took my bow and pointed darts in hand. 
And left the chariots in my native land. 
'Too late, O friend! my rashness I de- 
plore ; 
These shafts, once fatal, carry death no 

more. 
Tydeus' and Atreus' sons their points have 
found, 260 

And undissembled gore pursued the wound. 
In vain they bled: this unavailing bow 
Serves not to slaughter, but provoke the 

foe. 
In evil hour these bended horns I strung. 
And seiz'd the quiver where it idly hung. 
Curs'd be the fate that sent me to the field, 
Without a warrior's arms, the spear and 

shield! 
If e'er with life I quit the Trojan plain. 
If e'er I see my spouse and sire again. 
This bow, unfaithful to my glorious aims. 
Broke by my hand, shall feed the blazing 
flames.' 271 

To whom the leader of the Dardan race: 
' Be calm, nor Phoebus' honour'd gift dis- 
grace. 
The distant dart be prais'd, tho' here we 

need 
The rushing chariot, and the bounding 

steed. 
Against yon hero let us bend our course. 
And, hand to hand, encounter force with 

force. 
Now mount my seat, and from the chariot's 

height 
Observe my father's steeds, renown'd in 
, fight; 279 

Practis'd alike to turn, to stop, to chase. 
To dare the shock, or urge the rapid race: 
Secure with these, thro' fighting fields we go, 
Or safe to Troy, if Jove assist the foe. 
Haste, seize the whip, and snatch the guid- 
ing rein; 
The warrior's fury let this arm sustain: 
Or if to combat thy bold heart incline, 
Take thou the spear, the chariot's care be 
mine.* 



* O Prince ' (Lycadn's valiant son re^ 

plied), 

' As thine the steeds, be thine the task to 
guide. 

The horses, practis'd to their lord's com- 
mand, 290 

Shall hear the rein and answer to thy hand. 

But if, unhappy, we desert the fight, 

Thy voice alone can animate their flight: 

Else shall our fates be number'd with the 
dead. 

And these, the victor's prize, in triumpli 
led. 

Thine be the guidance then: with spear and 
shield 

Myself will charge this terror of the field.' 
And now both heroes mount the glit- 
t'ring car; 

The bounding coursers rush amidst the war. 

Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus es- 
pied, 300 

Who thus, alarm 'd, to great Tydides cried: 

* O friend ! two Chiefs of force immense 

I see. 

Dreadful they come, and bend their rage 
on thee: 

Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon's line, 

And great ^neas, sprung from race di- 
vine! 

Enough is giv'n to Fame. Ascend thy car; 

And save a life, the bulwark of our war.' 
At this the hero cast a gloomy look, 

Fix'd on the Chief with scorn, and thus he 
spoke : 

* Me dost thou bid to shun the coming 

fight? 310 

Me wouldst thou move to base, inglorious 

flight? 
Know, 't is not honest in my soul to fear, 
Nor was Tydides born to tremble here. 
I hate the cumbrous chariot's slow ad- 
vance, 
And the long distance of the flying lance: 
But while my nerves are strong, my force 

entire. 
Thus front the foe, and emulate my sire. 
Nor shall yon steeds, that fierce to fight 

convey 
Those threat'ning heroes, bear them both 

away; 
One Chief at least beneath this arm shall 

die; 320 

So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fly. 
But if she dooms, and if no God withstand, 
That both shall fall by one victorious hand ; 



THE ILIAD 



1 1 



Then heed my words: my horses here de- 
tain, 
Fix'd to the chariot by the straiten'd rein; 
Swift to .Eneas' empty seat proceed, 
And seize the coursers of ethereal breed, 
The race of those, which once the Thun- 

d'ring God 
For ravish'd Ganymede on Tros bestow'd, 
The best that e'er on earth's broad surface 
run 330 

Beneath the rising or the setting sun. 
Hence great Anchises stole a breed, un- 
known 
By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedou: 
Four of this race his ample stalls contain. 
And two transport -^neas o'er the plain. 
These, were the rich immortal prize our 

own, 
Thro' the wide world should make our glory 
known.' 
Thus while they spoke, the foe came 
furious on, 
And stern Lycaon's warlike race begun: 

* Prince, thou art met. Tho' late in vain 

assail'd, 340 

The spear may enter where the arrow 

fail'd.' 
He said, then shook the pond'rous"^ 

lance, and flung; 
On his broad shield the sounding weapon 

rung, 
Pierc'd the tough orb, and in his cuirass 

hung. 
'He bleeds! the pride of Greece* (the 

boaster cries), 

* Our triumph now the mighty warrior 

lies!' 
* Mistaken vaunter ! ' Diomed replied; 
' Thy dart has err'd, and now my spear be 

tried: 
Ye 'scape not both; one headlong from his 

car. 
With hostile blood shall glut the God of 

War.' 350 

He spoke, and, rising, hurl'd his forceful 

dart. 
Which, driv'n by Pallas, pierc'd a vital 

part; 
Full in his face it enter'd, and betwixt 
The nose and eyeball the proud Lycian 

fix'd: 
Crash'd all his jaws, and cleft the tongue 

within, 
Till the bright point look'd out beneath the 

chin. 



Headlong he falls, his helmet knocks the 
ground; 

Earth groans beneath him, and his arms 
resound; 

The starting coursers tremble with af- 
fright; 

The soul indignant seeks the realms of 
night. 3(x) 

To guard his slaughter'd friend, ^neas 
flies. 

His spear extending where the carcass lies, 

Watchful he wheels, protects it every way. 

As the grim lion stalks around his prey. 

O'er the fall'n trunk his ample shield dis- 
play'd. 

He hides the hero with his mighty shade, 

And threats aloud: the Greeks with long- 
ing eyes 

Behold at distance, but forbear the prize. 

Then fierce Tydides stoops; and, from the 
fields 

Heav'd with vast force, a rocky fragment 
wields. 370 

Not two strong men th' enormous weight 
could raise. 

Such men as live in these degen'rate days. 

He swung it round; and, gath'ring strength 
to throw, 

Discharged the pond'rous ruin at the foe. 

Where to the hip th' inserted thigh unites, 

Full on the bone the pointed marble lights; 

Thro' both the tendons broke the rugged 
stone. 

And stripp'd the skin, and crack'd the solid 
bone. 

Sunk on his knees, and stagg'ring with his 
pains. 

His falling bulk his bended arms sustains; 

Lost in a dizzy mist the warrior lies; 381 

A sudden cloud comes swimming o'er his 
eyes. 

There the brave Chief, who mighty numbers 
sway'd, 

Oppress'd had sunk to death's eternal 
shade: 

But heav'nly Venus, mindful of the love 

She bore Anchises in th' Idfean grove, 

His danger views with anguish and de- 
spair. 

And guards her offspring with a mother's 
care. 

About her much-lov'd son her arms she 
throws, 

Her arms whose whiteness match the fall- 
ing snows. 390 



312 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Screen'd from the foe behind her shining 

veil, 
The swords wave harmless, and the jav'lins 

fail: 
Safe thro' the rushing horse, and feather'd 

flight 
Of sounding shafts, she bears him from the 

fight. 
Nor Sthenelus, with unassisting hands, 
Remain'd unheedful of his lord's com- 
mands: 
His panting steeds, remov'd from out the 

war. 
He fix'd with straiten'd traces to the car. 
Next, rushing to the Dardan spoil, detains 
The heav'nly coursers with the flowing 

manes : 400 

These, in proud triumph to the fleet con- 

vey'd, 
No longer now a Trojan lord obey'd. 
That charge to bold Deipylus he gave 
(Whom most he lov'd, as brave men love 

the brave). 
Then, mounting on his car, resumed the 

rein. 
And follow'd where Tydides swept the 

plain. 
Meanwhile (his conquest ravish'd from 

his eyes) 
The raging Chief in chase of Venus flies: 
No Goddess she commission'd to the field. 
Like Pallas dreadful with her sable shield, 
Or fierce Bellona thund'ring at the wall, 411 
While flames ascend, and mighty ruins fall; 
He knew soft combats suit the tender 

dame. 
New to the field, and still a foe to fame. 
Thro' breaking ranks his furious course he 

bends. 
And at the Goddess his broad lance ex- 
tends; 
Thro' her bright veil the daring weapon 

drove, 
Th' ambrosial veil, which all the Graces 

wove: 
Her snowy hand the razing steel profaned. 
And the transparent skin with crimson 

stain'd. 420 

From the clear vein a stream immortal 

flow'd. 
Such stream as issues from a wounded 

God; 
Pure emanation! uncormpted flood; 
Unlike our gross, diseas'd, terrestrial 

blood ; 



(For not the bread of man their life sus- 
tains, 
Nor wine's inflaming juice supplies their 

veins). 
With tender shrieks the Goddess fiU'd the 

place ; 
And dropp'd her offspring from her weak 

embrace. 
Him Phoebus took: he casts a cloud around 
The fainting Chief, and wards the mortal 

wound. 430 

Then with a voice that shook the vaulted 

skies. 
The King insults the Goddess as she flies: 
* HI with Jove's daughter bloody fights 

agree. 
The field of combat is no scene for thee: 
Go, let thy own soft sex employ thy care, 
Go, lull the coward, or delude the fair. 
Taught by this stroke, renounce the war's 

alarms. 
And learn to tremble at the name of arms.' 
Tydides thus. The Goddess, seiz'd with 

dread. 
Confused, distracted, from the conflict fled. 
To aid her, swift the winged Iris flew, 441 
Wrapt in a mist above the warring crew. 
The Queen of Love with faded charms she 

found. 
Pale was her cheek, and livid look'd the 

wound. 
To Mars, who sat remote, they bent their 

way; 
Far on the left, with clouds involv'd he 

lay; 
Beside him stood his lance, distain'd with 

gore. 
And, rein'd with gold, his foaming steeds 

before : 
Low at his knee, she begg'd, with stream- 
ing eyes. 
Her brother's car, to mount the distant 

skies, 450 

And shew'd the wound by fierce Tydides 

giv'n, 
A mortal man, who dares encounter Heav'n. 
Stern Mars attentive hears the Queen com- 
plain. 
And to her hand commits the golden 

rein: 
She mounts the seat, oppress'd with silent 

woe, 
Driv'n by the Goddess of the Painted Bow. 
The lash resounds, the rapid chariot flies, 
And in a moment scales the lofty skies. 



THE ILIAD 



3^3 



There stopp'd the car, and there the 

coursers stood, 
Fed by fair Iris with ambrosial food. 460 
Before her mother, Love's bright Queen 

appears, 
O'erwhelm'd with anguish and dissolv'd in 

tears; 
She rais'd her in her arms, beheld her 

bleed, 
And ask'd what God had wrought this 

guilty deed ? 
Then she: * This insult from no God I 

found, 
An impious mortal gave the daring wound! 
Behold the deed of haughty Diomed! 
'T was in the son's defence the mother 

bled. 
The war with Troy no more the Grecians 

wage; 
But with the Gods (th' immortal Gods) en- 
gage.' 470 
Dione then : * Thy wrongs with patience 

bear, 
And share those griefs inferior Powers must 

share ; 
Unnumber'd woes mankind from us sustain, 
And men with woes afflict the Gods again. 
The mighty Mars, in mortal fetters bound, 
And lodg'd in brazen dungeons under 

ground. 
Full thirteen moons imprison'd roar'd in 

vain; 
Otus and Ephialtes held the chain; 
Perhaps had perish'd, had not Hermes' 

care 
Restored the groaning God to upper air. 480 
Great Juno's self has borne her weight of 

pain, 
Th' imperial partner of the heav'nly reign; 
Amphitryon's son infix'd the deadly dart. 
And fiird with anguish her immortal heart. 
Ev'n Hell's grim King Alcides' power con- 

fess'd. 
The shaft found entrance in his iron breast; 
To Jove's high palace for a cure he 

fled, 
Pierc'd in his own dominions of the dead ; 
Where Paeon, sprinkling heav'nly balm 

around. 
Assuaged the glowing pangs and closed the 

wound. 4QO 

Rash, impious man! to stain the bless'd 

abodes. 
And drench his arrows in the blood of 

Gods! 



But thou (tho' Pallas urged thy frantic 

deed), 
Whose spear ill-fated makes a Goddess 

bleed. 
Know tliou, whoe'er with heav'nly power 

contends. 
Short is his date, and soon his glory 

ends; 
From fields of death when late he shall re- 
tire. 
No infant on his knees shall call him sire. 
Strong as thou art, some God may yet be 

found. 
To stretch thee pale and gasping on the 

ground; 500 

Thy distant wife, ^giale the fair. 
Starting from sleep with a distracted air. 
Shall rouse thy slaves, and her lost lord de- 
plore. 
The brave, the great, the glorious, now no 

more ! ' 
This said, she wiped from Venus' 

wounded palm 
The sacred ichor, and infused the balm. 
Juno and Pallas with a smile survey'd. 
And thus to Jove began the Blue-eyed 

Maid: 
* Permit thy daughter, gracious Jove! to 

tell 
How this mischance the Cyprian Queen 

befel. 510 

As late she tried with passion to inflame 
The tender bosom of a Grecian dame, 
Allured the Fair with moving thoughts of 

Joy* 

To quit her country for some youth of 

Troy; 
The clasping zone, with golden buckles 

bound. 
Razed her soft hand with this lamented 

wound.' 
The Sire of Gods and men superior 

smiled. 
And, calling Venus, thus address'd his 

child: 
'Not these, O daughter, are thy proper 

cares. 
Thee milder arts befit, and softer wars ; 520 
Sweet smiles are thine, and kind endearing 

charms ; 
To Mars and Pallas leave the deeds of 

arms.' 
Thus they in Heav'n. While on the 

plain below 
The fierce Tydides charged his Dardan foe, 



3H 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Flush'd with celestial blood pursued his way, 
And fearless dared the threat'uing God of 

Already iu his hopes he saw him kill'd, 
Tho' screen'd behiud Apollo's mighty 

shield. 
Thrice, rushing furious, at the Chief he 

struck ; 
His blazing buckler thrice Apollo shook : 530 
He tried the fourth: when, breaking from 

the cloud, 
A more than mortal voice was heard aloud: 
' O son of Tydeus, cease! be wise, and 

see 
How vast the difP'rence of the Gods and 

thee ; 
Distance immense! between the Powers 

that shine 
Above, eternal, deathless, and divine. 
And mortal man! a wretch of humble birth, 
A short-lived reptile in the dust of earth.' 
So spoke the God who darts celestial 

fires; 
He dreads his fury, and some steps retires. 
Then Phoebus bore the chief of Venus' 

race 541 

To Troy's high fane, and to his holy place; 
Latona there and Phcebe heal'd the wound ; 
With vigour arm'd him, and with glory 

crown'd. 
This done, the patron of the silver bow 
A phantom rais'd, the same in shape and 

show 
With great ^neas; such the form he bore. 
And such in fight the radiant arms he wore. 
Around the spectre bloody wars are waged. 
And Greece and Troy with clashing shields 

engaged. 550 

Meantime on Ilion's tower Apollo stood. 
And, calling Mars, thus urged the raging 

God: 
' Stern Power of Arms, by whom the 

mighty fall, 
Who bathe in blood, and shake th' em- 
battled wall! 
Rise in thy wrath! to Hell's abhorr'd 

abodes 
Despatch yon Greek, and vindicate the 

Gods. 
First rosy Venus felt his brutal rage; 
Me next he charged, and dares all Heav'n 

engage: 
The wretch would brave high Heav'n's im- 
mortal Sire, 
His triple thunder, and his bolts of fire.* 560 



The God of Battles issues on the plain, 
Stirs all the ranks, and fires the Trojan 

train: 
In form like Acamas, the Thracian guide, 
Enraged, to Troy's retiring Chiefs he cried: 

* How long, ye sons of Priam ! will ye fly, 
And unrevenged see Priam's people die ? 
Still unresisted shall the foe destroy. 

And stretch the slaughter to the gates of 
Troy? 

Lo, brave iEneas sinks beneath his wound, 

Not godlike Hector more in arms re- 
nown 'd: 570 

Haste all, and take the gen'rous warrior's 
part.' 

He said; new courage swell'd each hero's 
heart. 

Sarpedon first his ardent soul express'd, 

And, turn'd to Hector, these bold words 
address'd: 

* Say, Chief, is all thy ancient valour lost ? 
Where are thy threats, and where thy 

glorious boast, 
That, propp'd alone by Priam's race should 

stand 
Troy's sacred walls, nor need a foreign 

hand ? 
Now, now thy country calls her wanted 

friends. 
And the proud vaunt in just derision ends. 
Remote they stand, while alien troops en- 
gage, _ _ 581 
Like trembling hounds before the lion's 

rage. 
Far distant hence I held my wide com- 
mand. 
Where foaming Xanthus laves the Lycian 

land. 
With ample wealth (the wish of mortals) 

bless'd, 
A beauteous wife, and infant at her breast; 
With those I left whatever dear could 

be; 
Greece, if she conquers, nothing wins from 

me. 
Yet first in fight my Lycian bands I cheer, 
And long to meet this mighty man ye 

fear; 
While Hector idle stands, nor bids the 

brave 591 

Their wives, their infants, and their altars, 

save. 
Haste, Warrior, haste! preserve thy threat- 

en'd state; 
Or one vast burst of all-involving Fate 



THE ILIAD 



315 



Full o'er your towers shall fall, and sweep 
away 

Sous, sires, and wives, an undistiuguish'd 
prey. 

Rouse <all thy Trojans, urge thy aids to 
fight; 

These claim thy thoughts by day, thy watch 
by night: 

With force incessant the brave Greece op- 
pose; 

Such care thy friends deserve, and such 
thy foes.' 600 

Stung to the heart the gen'rous Hector 
hears, 

But just reproof with decent silence bears. 

From his proud car the Prince impetuous 
springs; 

On earth he leaps; his brazen armour rings. 

Two shining spears are braudish'd in his 
hands ; 

Thus arni'd, he animates his drooping 
bands. 

Revives their ardour, turns their steps 
from flight, 

And wakes anew the dying flames of fight. 

They turn, they stand: the Greeks their 
fury dare, 

Condense their powers, and wait the grow- 
ing war. 610 
As when, on Ceres' sacred floor, the 
swain 

Spreads the wide fan to clear the golden 
grain. 

And the light chaff, before the breezes 
borne, 

Ascends in clouds from off the heapy corn; 

The grey dust, rising with collected winds, 

Drives o'er the barn, and whitens all the 
hinds : 

So, white with dust, the Grecian host ap- 
pears, 

From trampling steeds, and thund'ring 
charioteers 

The dusky clouds from labour'd earth arise, 

And roll in smoking volumes to the skies. 

Mars hovers o'er them with his sable 
shield, 621 

And adds new horrors to the darken'd field; 

Pleas'd with this charge, and ardent to fuU 
fil. 

In Troy's defence, Apollo's heav'nly will: 

Soon as from fight the Blue-eyed Maid re- 
tires, 

Each Trojan bosom with new warmth he 
fires. 



And now the God, from forth his sacred 
fane, 

Produced ^neas to the shouting train; 

Alive, unharm'd, with all his peers around, 

Erect he stood, and vig'rous from his 
wound : 630 

Inquiries none they made; the dreadful 
day 

No pause of words admits, no dull delay ; 

Fierce Discord storms, Apollo loud ex- 
claims. 

Fame calls. Mars thunders, and the field 's 
in flames. 
Stern Diomed with either Ajax stood, 

And great Ulysses, bathed in hostile blood. 

Embodied close, the lab'ring Grecian train 

The fiercest shock of charging hosts sus- 
tain ; 

Unmov'd and silent, the whole war they 
wait. 

Serenely dreadful, and as fix'd as Fate. 640 

So, when th* embattled clouds in dark 
array 

Along the skies their gloomy lines display. 

When now the North his boist'rous rage 
has spent, 

And peaceful sleeps the liquid element, 

The low-hung vapours, motionless and still, 

Rest on the summits of the shaded hill; 

Till the mass scatters as the winds arise, 

Dispers'd and broken thro' the ruffled 
skies. 
Nor was the Gen'ral wanting to his train; 

From troop to troop he toils thro' all the 
plain: 650 

* Ye Greeks, be men! the charge of battle 
bear; 

Your brave associates and yourselves re- 
vere ! 

Let glorious acts more glorious acts in- 
spire, 

And catch from breast to breast the noble 
fire ! 

On valour's side the odds of combat lie, 

The brave live glorious, or lamented die: 

The wretch who trembles in the field of 
fame. 

Meets death, and .worse than death, eternal 
shame.' 
These words he seconds with his flying 
lance. 

To meet whose point was strong Deicoon's 
chance : 660 

Eneas' friend, and in his native place 

Honour'd and lov'd like Priam's royal race; 



3i6 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Long had he fought, the foremost iii the 

field; 
But now the monarch's lance transpierc'd 

his shield: 
His shield too weak the furious dart to stay, 
Thro' his broad belt the weapon forced its 

way; 
The grisly wound dismiss'd his soul to Hell, 
His arms around him rattled as he fell. 

Then fierce ^neas, brandishing his blade. 
In dust Orsilochus and Crethon laid, 670 
Whose sire Diocleus, wealthy, brave, and 

great, 
In well-built Pherse held his lofty seat: 
Sprung from Alpheus, plenteous stream! 

that yields 
Increase of harvests to the Pylian fields: 
He got Orsilochus, Diocleus he, 
And these descended in the third degree. 
Too early expert in the martial toil, 
In sable ships they left their native soil, 
T' avenge Atrides; now, untimely slain, 
They fell with glory on the Phrygian plain. 
So two young mountain lions, nurs'd with 

blood 681 

In deep recesses of the gloomy wood, 
Rush fearless to the plains, and uncontroll'd 
Depopulate the stalls and waste the fold; 
Till, pierc'd at distance from their native 

den, 
O'erpower'd they fall beneath the force of 

men. 
Prostrate on earth their beauteous bodies 

lay, 
Like mountain firs, as tall and straight as 

tbey. 
Great Menelaus views with pitying eyes, 
Lifts his bright lance, and at the victor 

flies ; 690 

Mars urged him on; yet, ruthless in his 

hate. 
The God but urged him to provoke his fate. 
He thus advancing, Nestor's valiant son 
Shakes for his danger, and neglects his own ; 
Struck with the thought, should Helen's 

lord be slain, 
And all his country's glorious labours vain. 
Already met, the threat'ning heroes stand; 
The spears already tremble in their hand; 
In rush'd Antilochus, his aid to bring, 
And fall or conquer by the Spartan King. 700 
These seen, the Dardan backward turn'd 

his course, 
Brave as he was, and shunn'd unequal 

force. 



The breathless bodies to the Greeks they 

drew; 
Then mix in combat, and their toils renew. 

First Pylsemenes, great in battle, bled. 
Who, sheathed in brass, the Paphlagonians 

led. 
Atrides mark'd him where sublime he stood; 
Fix'd in his throat, the jav'lin drank his 

blood. 
The faithful Mydon, as he turn'd from 

fight 709 

His flying coursers, sunk to endless night: 
A broken rock by Nestor's son was thrown ; 
His bended arm receiv'd the falling stone; 
From his numb'd hand the ivory-studded 

reins, 
Dropp'd in the dust, are trail'd along the 

plains : 
Meanwhile his temples feel a deadly 

wound; 
He groans in death, and pond'rous sinks to 

ground: 
Deep drove his helmet in the sands, and 

there 
The head stood fix'd, the quiv'ring legs in 

air. 
Till trampled flat beneath the coursers' 

feet: 
The youthful victor mounts his empty seat. 
And bears the prize in triumph to the 

fleet. 721 J 

Great Hector saw, and, raging at the 

view. 
Pours on the Greeks; the Trojan troops 

pursue 
He fires his host with animating cries. 
And brings along the furies of the skies. 
Mars, stern destroyer! and Bellona dread. 
Flame in the front, and thunder at their 

head: 
This swells the tumult and the rage of 

fight; 
That shakes a spear that casts a dreadful 

light; 
Where Hector march'd, the God of Battles 

shined, 730 

Now storm'd before him, and now raged 

behind. 
Tydides paus'd amidst his full career; 
Then first the hero's manly breast knew 

fear. 
As when some simple swain his cot for- 
sakes. 
And wide thro' fens an unknown journey 

takes; 



THE ILIAD 



317 



If chance a swelling brook his passage stay, 
And foam impervious cross the waud'rer's 

way, 
Confused he stops, a length of country past, 
Kyes the rough waves, and, tired, returns 

at last: 
Amazed no less the great Tydides stands; 
He stay'd, and, turning, thus address'd his 

bauds: 741 

' No wonder, Greeks, that all to Hector 

yield: 
Secure of f av'ring Gods, he takes the field ; 
His strokes they second, and avert our 

spears: 
Behold where Mars in mortal arms ap- 
pears ! 
Retire then, warriors, but sedate and slow; 
Retire, but with your faces to the foe. 
Trust not too much your unavailinjj might; 
'T is not with Troy, but with the Gods, ye 

fight' 
Now near the Greeks the black battalions 

drew; 750 

And first, two leaders valiant Hector slew: 
His force Anchialus and Mnesthes fouud, 
In ev'ry art of glorious war renown'd: 
In the same car the Chiefs to combat 

ride, 
And fought united, and united died. 
Struck at the sight, the mighty Ajax glows 
With thirst of vengeance, and assaults the 

foes. 
His massy spear, with matchless fury sent. 
Thro' Amphius' belt and heaving belly 

went: 
Amphius Apaesus' happy soil possess'd, 760 
With herds abounding, and with treasure 

bless'd ; 
But fate resistless from his country led 
The Chief, to perish at his people's head. 
Shook with his fall, his brazen armour 

rung. 
And fierce, to seize it, conqu'ring Ajax 

sprung; 
Around his head an iron tempest rain'd; 
A wood of spears his ample shield sus- 
tain 'd; 
Beneath one foot the yet warm corpse he 

press'd. 
And drew his jav'lin from the bleeding 

breast : 
He could no more ; the show'ring darts de- 
nied 770 
To spoil his glitt'ring arms, and plumy 

pride. 



Now foes on foes came pouring on. the 

fields, 
With bristling lances, and compacted 

shields; 
Till, in the steely circle straiten'd round, 
Forc'd he gives way, and sternly quits the 

ground. 
While thus they strive, Tlepolemus the 

great, 
Urged by the force of unresisted Fate, 
Burns with desire Sarpedon's strength to 

prove ; 
Alcides' offspring meets the son of Jove. 
Sheathed in bright arms each adverse Chief 

came on, 780 

Jove's great descendant, and his greater 

son. 
Prepared for combat, ere the lance he 

toss'd. 
The daring Rhodian vents his haughty 

boast: 
* What brings this Lycian counsellor so 

far. 
To tremble at our arms, not mix in war ? 
Know thy vain self; nor let their flatt'ry 

move, 
Who style thee son of cloud-compelling 

Jove. 
How far unlike those Chiefs of race divine! 
How vast the diff'rence of their deeds and 

thine ! 
Jove got such heroes as my sire, whose 

soul 790 

No fear could daunt, nor Earth nor Hell 

control. 
Troy felt his arm, and yon proud ramparts 

stand. 
Rais'd on the ruins of his vengeful hand: 
With six small ships, and but a slender 

train, 
He left the town a wide deserted plain. 
But what art thou, who deedless look'st 

around. 
While unrevenged thy Lycians bite the 

ground ? 
Small aid to Troy thy feeble force can 

be; 
But wert thou greater, thou must yield to 

me, 
Pierc'd by my spear, to endless darkness 



go 



800 



I make this present to the shades below.' 

The son of Hercules, the Rhodian guide, 
Thus haughty spoke. The Lycian King 
replied: 



3i8 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



* Thy sire, O Prince! o'erturn'd the 

Trojan state, 
Whose perjured monarch well deserv'd his 

fate; 
Those heav'nly steeds the hero sought so 

far, 
False he detain'd, the just reward of war: 
Nor so content, the gen'rous Chief defied. 
With base reproaches and unmanly pride. 
But you, unworthy the high race you boast, 
Shall raise my glory when thy own is lost: 
Now meet thy fate, and, by Sarpedon slain. 
Add one more ghost to Pluto's gloomy 

reign.' 813 

He said: both jav'lins at an instant 

flew: 
Both struck, both wounded, but Sarpedon's 

slew: 
Full in the boaster's neck the weapon 

stood, 
Transfix'd his throat, and drank the vital 

blood ; 
The soul disdainful seeks the caves of 

night. 
And his seal'd eyes for ever lose the light. 
Yet not in vain, Tlepolemus, was thrown 
Thy angry lance; which, piercing to the 

bone 821 

Sarpedon's thigh, had robb'd the Chief of 

breath, 
But Jove was present, and forbade the 

death. 
Borne from the conflict by his Lycian 

throng, 
The wounded hero dragg'd the lance along 
(His friends, each busied in his sev'ral 

part, 
Thro' haste, or danger, had not drawn the 

dart). 
The Greeks with slain Tlepolemus retired; 
Whose fall Ulysses view'd, with fury flred; 
Doubtful if Jove's great son he should pur- 
sue, 830 
Or pour his vengeance on the Lycian 

crew. 
But Heav'n and Fate the first design with- 
stand , 
Nor this great death must grace Ulysses* 

hand. 
Minerva drives him on the Lycian train; 
Alastor, Cromius, Halius, strew'd the 

plain, 
Albander, Prytanis, Noemon fell; 
And numbers more his sword had sent to 
Hell, 



But Hector saw ; and, furious at the sight, 
Rush'd terrible amidst the ranks of fight. 
With joy Sarpedon view'd the wish'd re- 
lief, 840 
And faint, lamenting, thus implored the 

Chief: 
* Oh, suffer not the foe to bear away 
My helpless corpse, an unassisted prey! 
If I, unbless'd, must see my son no more. 
My much-lov'd consort, and my native 

shore. 
Yet let me die in Ilion's sacred wall; 
Troy, in whose cause I fell, shall mourn 

my fall.' 
He said, nor Hector to the Chief replies, 
But shakes his plume, and fierce to combat 

flies. 
Swift as a whirlwind drives the scatt'ring 

foes, 850 

And dyes the ground with purple as he 

goes. 
Beneath a beech, Jove's consecrated 

shade, 
His mournful friends divine Sarpedon 

laid: 
Brave Pelagon, his fav'rite Chief, was 

nigh. 
Who wrench'd the jav'lin from his sinewy 

thigh. 
The fainting soul stood ready wing'd for 

flight, 
And o'er his eyeballs swam the shades of 

night; 
But Boreas rising fresh, with gentle breath, 
Recall'd his spirit from the gates of death. 
The gen'rous Greeks recede with tardy 

pace, S60 

Tho' Mars and Hector thunder in their 

face; 
None turn their backs to mean ignoble 

flight, 
Slow they retreat, and, ev'n retreating, 

fight. 
Who first, who last, by Mars' and Hector's 

hand, 
Stretch'd in their blood, lay gasping on the 

sand ? 
Teuthras the great, Orestes the renown'd 
For managed steeds, and Trechus, press'd 

the ground; 
Next CEnomaus, and CEnops' offspring 

died; 
Oresbius last fell groaning at their side: 
Oresbins, in his painted mitre gay, 870 

In fat Bceotia held his wealthy swayj 



THE ILIAD 



319 



Where lakes surround low Hyle's wat'ry 

plain; 
A Prince and people studious of their gain. 
The carnage Juno from the skies sur- 

vey'd, 
And touch'd with grief, bespoke the Blue- 
eyed Maid: 
• Oh sight accurs'd ! shall faithless Troy 

prevail, 
And shall our promise to our people fail ? 
How vain the word to Menelaus giv'n 
By Jove's great daughter and the Queen 

of Heav'n, 
Beneath his arms that Priam's towers 

should fall, 880 

If warring Gods for ever guard the wall ! 
Mars, red with slaughter, aids our hated 

foes: 
Haste, let us arm, and force with force op- 



pose 



I' 



She spoke; Minerva burns to meet the 

war: 
And now Heav'n's Empress calls her blaz- 
ing car. 
At her command rush forth the steeds 

divine; 
Rich with immortal gold their trappings 

shine. 
Bright Hebe waits; by Hebe, ever young. 
The whirling wheels are to the chariot 

hung. 889 

On the bright axle turns the bidden wheel 
Of sounding brass; the polish'd axle steel. 
Eight brazen spokes in radiant order flame; 
The circles gold, of uncorrupted fi'ame, 
Such as the Heav'ns produce: and round 

the gold 
Two brazen rings of work divine were 

roll'd. 
The bossy naves of solid silver shone; 
Braces of gold suspend the moving throne: 
The car behind an arching figure bore ; 
The bending concave form'd an arch before. 
Silver the beam, th' extended yoke was 

gold, 900 

And golden reins th' immortal coursers 

hold. 
Herself, impatient, to the ready car 
The coursers joins, and breathes revenge 

and war. 
Pallas disrobes; her radiant veil untied. 
With flowers adorn'd, with art diversified 
(The labour'd veil her heav'nly fingers 

wove), 
Flows on the pavement of the court of Jove. 



Now Heav'n's dread arms her mighty limbs 

invest, 
Jove's cuirass blazes on her ample breast; 
Deck'd in sad triumph for the mournful 

field, 910 

O'er her broad shoulders hangs his horrid 

shield, 
Dire, black, tremendous! round the margin 

roll'd, 
A fringe of serpents hissing guards the 

gold: 
Here all the terrors of grim war appear. 
Here rages Force, here tremble Flight and 

Fear, 
Here storm'd Contention, and here Fury 

frown'd. 
And the dire orb portentous Gorgon 

crown'd. 
The massy golden helm she next assumes, 
That dreadful nods with four o'ershading 

plumes: 
So vast, the broad circumference contains 
A hundred armies on a hundred plains. 921 
The Goddess thus th' imperial car ascends; 
Shook by her arm the mighty jav'lin bends, 
Pond'rous and huge; that, when her fury 

burns. 
Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts 

o'erturns. 
Swift at the scourge th' ethereal coursers 

While the smooth chariot cuts the liquid sky: 

Heav'n's gates spontaneous open to the 
Powers, 

Heav'n's golden gates, kept by the winged 
Hours; 

Commission'd in alternate watch they 
stand, 930 

The sun's bright portals and the skies com- 
mand. 

Involve in clouds th' eternal gates of day> 

Or the dark barrier roll with ease away. 

The sounding hinges ring: on either side 

The gloomy volumes, pierc'd with light, 
divide. 

The chariot mounts, where deep in ambient 
skies 

Confused, Olympus' hundred heads arise; 

Where far apart the Thund'rer fills his 
throne. 

O'er all the Gods, superior and alone. 

There with her snowy hand the Queen re- 
strains 940 

The fiery steeds, and thus to Jove com- 
plains: 



320 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



* O Sire ! can no resentment touch thy 

soul ? 
Can Mars rebel, and does no thunder roll ? 
What lawless rage on yon forbidden plain ! 
What rash destruction! and what heroes 

slain! 
Venus, and Phoebus with the dreadful bow. 
Smile on the slaughter, and enjoy my woe. 
Mad, furious Power! whose unrelenting 

mind 
No God can govern, and no justice bind. 
Say, mighty Father! shall we scourge his 

pride, 950 

And drive from fight th' impetuous homi- 
cide ? ' ^ 
To whom assenting, thus the Thund'rer 

said: 
* Go! and the great Minerva be thy aid. 
To tame the monster-God Minerva knows, 
And oft afflicts his brutal breast with 

woes.' 
He said: Saturnia, ardent to obey, 
Lash'd her white steeds along th' aerial 

way. 
Swift down the steep of Heav'n the chariot 

rolls. 
Between th' expanded earth and starry 

poles. 
Far as a shepherd from some point on high. 
O'er the wide main extends his boundless 

eye; _ ^ 961 

Thro' such a space of air, with thuud'riug 

sound, 
At ev'ry leap th' immortal coursers bound. 
Troy now they reach'd, and touch'd those 

banks divine 
Where silver Simois and Scamander join. 
There Juno stopp'd, and (her fair steeds 

unloos'd) 
Of air condensed a vapour circumfused: 
For these, impregnate with celestial dew. 
On Simois' brink ambrosial herbage grew. 
Thence to relieve the fainting Argive 

throng, 970 

Smooth as the sailingdoves, they glide along. 

The best and bravest of the Grecian 

band 
(A warlike circle) round Tydides stand: 
Such was their look as lions bathed in 

blood, 
Or foaming boars, the terror of the wood. 
Heav'n's Empress mingles with the mortal 

crowd. 
And shouts, in Stentor's sounding voice, 

aloud: 



Stentor the strong, endued with brazen 

lungs, 
Whose throat surpass'd the force of fifty 

tongues: 
* Inglorious Argives! to your race a 

shame, 980 

And only men in figure and in name! 
Once from the walls your tim'rous foes en- 
gaged, 
While fierce in war divine Achilles raged; 
Now, issuing fearless, they possess the 

plain. 
Now win the shores, and scarce the seas 

remain.' 
Her speech new fury to their hearts con- 

vey'd; 
While near Tydides stood th' Athenian 

Maid: 
The King beside his panting steeds she 

found, 
O'erspent with toil, reposing on the ground: 
To cool his glowing wound he sat apart 990 
(The wound inflicted by the Lyciau dart) ; 
Large drops of sweat from all his limbs 

descend, 
Beneath his pond'rous shield his sinews 

bend, 
Whose ample belt, that o'er his shoulder 

lay. 
He eased; and wash'd the clotted gore 

away. 
The Goddess, leaning o'er the bending yoke 
Beside his coursers, thus her silence broke: 
'Degen'rate Prince! and not of Tydeus' 

kind : 
Whose little body lodg'd a mighty mind; 
Foremost he press'd in glorious toils to 

share, 1000 

And scarce refrain'd when I forbade the 

war. 
Alone, unguarded, once he dared to go, 
And feast encircled by the Theban foe; 
There braved and vanquish'd many a 

hardy knight; 
Such nerves I gave him, and such force in 

fight. 
Thou too no less hast been my constant 

care; 
Thy hands I arm'd, and sent thee forth to 

war: 
But thee or fear deters or sloth detains; 
No drop of all thy father warms thy veins.' 
The Chief thus answer'd mild: 'Im- 
mortal Maid ! loio 
I own thy presence, and confess thy aid. 



THE ILIAD 



321 



Not fear, thou know'st, withholds me from 

the plains, 
Nor sloth hath seiz'd me, but thy word re- 
strains : 
From warring Gods thou bad'st me turn 

my spear. 
And Venus only found resistance here. 
Hence, Goddess ! heedful of thy high com- 
mands, 
Loth I gave way, and warn'd our Argive 

bands: 
For Mars, the homicide, these eyes beheld, 
With slaughter red, and raging round tlie 

field.' 
Then thus Minerva: 'Brave Tydides, 

hear! 1020 

Not Mars himself, nor aught immortal, 

fear. 
Full on the God impel thy foaming horse: 
Pallas commands, and Pallas lends thee 

force. 
Rash, furious, blind, from these to those he 

flies, 
And ev'ry side of wavering combat tries: 
Large promise makes, and breaks the 

promise made; 
Now gives the Grecians, now the Trojans 

aid.' 
She said, and to the steeds approaching 

near, 
Drew from his seat the martial charioteer. 
The vig'rous Power the trembling car 

ascends, 1030 

Fierce for revenge; and Diomed attends. 
The groaning axle bent beneath the load; 
So great a Hero, and so great a God. 
She snateh'd the reins, she lash'd with all 

her force, 
And full on Mars impell'd the foaming 

horse : 
But first to hide her heav'nly visage spread 
Black Orcus' helmet o'er her radiant head. 

Just then gigantic Periphas lay slain. 
The strongest warrior of th' iEtolian train ; 
The God who slew him leaves his prostrate 

prize 1040 

Stretch'd where he fell, and at Tydides flies. 
Now rushing fierce, in equal arms, appear 
The daring Greek, the dreadful God of 

War! 
Full at the Chief, above his courser's head. 
From Mars' s arm th' enormous weapon fled : 
Pallas opposed her hand, and caus'd to 

glance 
Far from the car the strong immortal lance. 



Then threw the force of Tydeus' warlike 

son; 
The jav'lin hiss'd; the Goddess urged it on: 
Where the broad cincture girt his armour 

round, 1050 

It pierc'd the God: his groin receiv'd the 

wound. 
From the rent skin the warrior tugs again 
The smoking steel. Mars bellows with the 

pain : 
Loud, as the roar encount'ring armies 

yield, 
When shouting millions shake the thun- 

d'ring field. 
Both armies start, and trembling gaze 

around; 
And Earth and Heaven rebellow to the 

sound. 
As vapours blown by Auster's sultry 

breath. 
Pregnant with plagues and shedding seeds 

of death. 
Beneath the rage of burning Sirius rise. 
Choke the parch'd earth, and blacken all 

the skies; 1061 

In such a cloud the God, from combat 

driv'n, 
High o'er the dusty whirlwind scales the 

Heav'n. 
Wild with his pain, he sought the bright 

abodes. 
There sullen sat beneath the Sire of Gods, 
Shew'd the celestial blood, and with a 

groan 
Thus pour'd hiff plaints before th' immortal 

throne: 
'Can Jove, supine, flagitious facts sur- 
vey. 
And brook the furies of this daring day ? 
For mortal men celestial Powers engage, 
And Gods on Gods exert eternal rage. 1071 
From thee, O Father! all these ills we 

bear. 
And thy fell daughter with the shield and 

spear: 
Thou gavest that fury to the realms of 

Pernicious, wild, regardless of the right. 
All Heav'n beside reveres thy sov'reign 

sway, 
Thy voice we hear, and thy behests obey: 
'T is hers t' offend, and ev'n offending, 

share 
Thy breast, thy counsels, thy distinguish'd 

care: 



322 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



So boundless she, and thou so partial grown, 
Well may we deem the wondrous birth thy 

own. 1081 

Now frantic Diomed, at her command, 
Against th' immortals lifts his raging hand: 
The heav'nly Venus first his fury found, 
Me next eneount'ring, me he dared to 

wound ; 
Vanquish'd I fled: ev'n I, the God of Fight, 
From mortal madness scarce was saved by 

flight. 
Else hadst thou seen me sink on yonder 

plain, 
Heap'd round, and heaving under loads of 

slain; 1089 

Or, pierc'd with Grecian darts, for ages lie, 
Condemn'd to pain, tho' fated not to die.' 
Him thus upbraiding, with a wrathful 

look 
The Lord of Thunders view'd, and stern 

bespoke: 
' To me, perfidious! this lamenting strain ? 
Of lawless force shall lawless Mars com- 
plain ? 
Of all the Gods who tread the spangled 

skies. 
Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes! 
Inhuman discord is thy dire delight, 
The waste of slaughter, and the rage of 

fight: 
No bound, no law, thy fiery temper quells. 
And all thy mother in thy soul rebels, uoi 
In vain our threats, in vain our power, we 

use: 
She gives th' example, and her son pur- 
sues. 
Yet long th' inflicted pangs thou shalt not 

mourn. 
Sprung since thou art from Jove, and 

heav'nly born. 
Else, singed with hghtning, hadst thou 

hence been thrown, 
Where chain'd on burning rocks the Titans 

groan.' 
Thus he who shakes Olympus with his 

nod; 
Then gave to Pseon's care the bleeding 

God. 
With gentle hand the balm he pour'd 

around, mo 

And heal'd th' immortal flesh, and closed 

the wound. 
As when the fig's press'd juice, infused in 

cream, 
To curds coagulates the liquid stream, 



Sudden the fluids fix, the parts combin'd; 
Such and so soon th' ethereal texture join'd. 
Cleans'd from the dust and gore, fair Hebe 

dress'd 
His mighty limbs in an immortal vest. 
Glorious he sat, in majesty restor'd, 
Fast by the throne of Heav'n's superior 

Lord. 
Juno and Pallas mount the blest abodes, 
Their task perform'd, and mix among the 

Gods. 1 12 1 



BOOK VI 

THE EPISODES OF GLAUCUS AND DIOMED, 
AND OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE 

THE ARGUMENT 

The Gods having- left the field, the Grecians 
prevail. Helenus, the chief augur of Troy, 
commands Hector to return to the city, in 
order to appoint a solemn procession of the 
Queen and the Trojan matrons to the temple 
of Minerva, to entreat her to remove Diomed 
from the fight. The battle relaxing during 
the absence of Hector, Glaucus and Diomed 
have an interview between the two armies ; 
•where, coming to the knowledge of the 
friendship and hospitality past between their 
ancestors, they make exchange of their arms. 
Hector, having performed the orders of 
Helenus, prevailed upon Paris to return to 
the battle, and taken a tender leave of his 
wife Andromache, hastens again to the 
field. 

The scene is first in the field of battle, between 
the river Simois and Scamander, and then 
changes to Troy. 

Now^ Heav'n forsakes the fight; th' im- 
mortals yield 

To human force and human skill the field: 

Dark showers of jav'lins fly from foes to 
foes; 

Now here, now there, the tide of combat 
flows; 

While Troy's famed streams, that bound 
the deathful plain. 

On either side run purple to the main. 
Great Ajax first to conquest led the way, 

Broke the thick ranks, and turn'd the 
doubtful day. 

The Thracian Acamas his falchion found, 

And hew'd th' enormous giant to the 
ground; i« 



THE ILIAD 



323 



His thund'ring arm a deadly stroke ini- 

press'd 
Where the black horse-hair nodded o'er his 

crest: 
Fix'd in his front the brazen weapon lies, 
And seals in endless shades his swimming 

eyes. 
Next Teuthras' son distain'd the sands 

with blood, 
1/ Axylus, hospitable, rich, and good: 
In fair Arisba's walls (his native place) 
He held his seat; a friend to human race. 
Fast by the road, his ever-open door 
Obliged the wealthy, and reliev'd the 

poor. 20 

To stern Tydides now he falls a prey, 
No friend to guard him in the dreadful 

day! 
Breathless the good man fell, and by his 

side 
His faithful servant, Old Calesius, died. 

By great Euryalus was Dresns slain. 
And next he laid Opheltius on the plain. 
Two twins were near, bold, beautiful, and 

young, 
From a fair Naiad and Bucolion sprung 
(Laomedon's white flocks Bucolion fed, 
That monarch's first-born by a foreign 

bed; 30 

In secret woods he won the Naiad's grace, 
And two fair infants crown'd his strong 

embrace) : 
Here dead they lay in all their youthful 

charms; 
The ruthless victor stripp'd their shining 

arms. 
Astyalus by Polypoetes fell; 
Ulysses' spear Pidytes sent to Hell; 
By Teucer's shaft brave Aretaon bled, 
And Nestor's son laid stern Ablerus dead; 
Great Agamemnon, leader of the brave, 
The mortal wound of rich Elatus gave, 40 
Who held in Pedasus his proud abode, 
And till'd the banks where silver Satnio 

flow'd. 
Melanthius by Eurypylus was slain; 
And Phylacus from Leitus flies in vain. 
Unbless'd Adrastus next at mercy lies 
Beneath the Spartan spear, a living prize. 
Scared with the din and tumult of the fight. 
His headlong steeds, precipitate in flight, 
Rush'd on a tamarisk's strong trunk, and 

broke 
The shatter'd chariot from the crooked 

yoke : so 



Wide o'er the field, resistless as the wind, 

For Troy they fly, and leave their lord be- 
hind. 

Prone on his face he sinks beside the wheel: 

Atrides o'er him shakes his vengeful steel; 

The fallen Chief in suppliant posture press'd 

The victor's knees, and thus his prayer 
address'd: 
' Oh spare my youth, and for the life I 
owe 

Large gifts of price my father shall be- 
stow: 

When Fame shall tell, that not in battle 
slain 

Thy hollow ships his captive son detain, 60 

Rich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be 
told. 

And steel well-temper'd, and persuasive 
gold.' 
He said: compassion touch'd the hero's 
heart; 

He stood suspended with the lifted dart: 

As pity pleaded for his vanquish'd prize. 

Stern Agamemnon swift to vengeance flies, 

And furious thus: ' Oh impotent of mind! 

Shall these, shall these, Atrides' mercy 
find ? 

Well hast thou known proud Troy's per- 
fidious land. 

And well her natives merit at thy hand! 70 

Not one of all the race, nor sex, nor age. 

Shall save a Trojan from our boundless 
rage: 

Ilion shall perish whole, and bury all; 

Her babes, her infants at the breast, shall 
fall. 

A dreadful lesson of exampled fate, 

To warn the nations, and to curb the great.' 
The Monarch spoke; the words, with 
warmth address'd, 

To rigid justice steel'd his brother's breast. 

Fierce from his knees the hapless Chief he 
thrust; 

The Monarch's jav'lin stretch'd him in the 
dust. 80 

Then, pressing with his foot his panting 
heart, 

Forth from the slain he tugg'd the reeking 
dart. 

Old Nestor saw, and rous'd the warriors' 
rage; 

'Thus, heroes! thus the vig'rous combat 



wage 



No son of Mars descend, for servile gains, 
To touch the booty, while a foe remains. 



324 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Behold yon glitt'ring host, your future 

spoil! 
First gain the conquest, then reward the 

toU.' 
And now had Greece eternal Fame 

acquired, 
And frighted Troy within her walls re- 
tired ; 90 
Had not sage Helenus her state redress'd, 
Taught by the Gods that mov'd his sacred 

breast: 
Where Hector stood, with great iEneas 

join'd, 
The seer reveal'd the counsels of his mind: 
' Ye gen'rous Chief! on whom th' im- 
mortals lay 
The cares and glories of this doubtful day. 
On whom your aids, your country's hopes 

depend, 
Wise to consult, and active to defend ! 
Here, at our gates, your brave efforts 

unite, 
Turn back the routed, and forbid the 

flight; 100 

Ere yet their wives' soft arms the cowards 

gain, 
The sport and insult of the hostile train. 
When your commands have hearten'd 

ev'ry band. 
Ourselves, here fix'd, will make the dan- 
gerous stand; 
Press'd as we are, and sore of former 

fight. 
These straits demand our last remains of 

might. 
Meanwhile, thou, Hector, to the town 

retire 
And teach our mother what the Gods re- 
quire : 
Direct the Queen to lead th' assembled 

train 
Of Troy's chief matrons to Minerva's 

fane ; 1 10 

Unbar the sacred gates, and seek the 

Power 
With offer'd vows, in Ilion's topmost 

tower. 
The largest mantle her rich wardrobes 

hold, 
Most prized for art, and labour'd o'er with 

gold. 
Before the Goddess' honour'd knees be 

spread ; 
And twelve young heifers to her altars 

led. 



If so the Power atoned by fervent prayer, 
Our wives, our infants, and our city spare. 
And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire, 
That mows whole troops, and makes all 

Troy retire. 120 

Not thus Achilles taught our hosts to 

dread, 
Sprung tho' he was from more than mortal 

bed; 
Not thus resistless ruled the stream of 

fight. 
In rage unbounded, and unmatch'd in 

might.' 
Hector obedient heard; and, with a 

bound, 
Leap'd from his trembling chariot to the 

ground; 
Thro' all his host, inspiring force, he flies, 
And bids the thunder of the battle rise. 
With rage recruited the bold Trojans glow. 
And turn the tide of conflict on the foe : 130 
Fierce in the front he shakes two dazzling 

spears; 
All Greece recedes, and 'midst her triumph 

fears: 
Some God, they thought, who ruled the 

fate of wars, 
Shot down avenging from the vault of 

stars. 
Then thus, aloud: 'Ye dauntless Dar- 

dans, hear! 
And you whom distant nations send to war; 
Be mindful of the strength your fathers 

bore; 
Be still yourselves^ and Hector asks no 

more. 
One hour demands me in the Trojan wall. 
To bid our altars flame, and victims 

fall: 140 

Nor shall, I trust, the matrons' holy train. 
And rev'rend elders, seek the Gods in vain.' 
This said, with ample strides the hero 

pass'd; 
The shield's large orb behind his shoulder 

cast. 
His neck o'ershading, to his ankle hung; 
And as he march'd the brazen buckler 

rung. 
Now paus'd the battle (godlike Hector 

gone), 
When daring Glaucus and great Tydeus' son 
Between both armies met; the Chiefs from 

far 
Observ'd each other, and had mark'd for 

war. 150 



THE ILIAD 



325 



Near as they drew, Tydides thus began: 

* What art thou, boldest of the race of 

man ? 

Our eyes, till now, that aspect ne'er beheld. 

Where fame is reap'd amid th' embattled 
field; 

Yet far before the troops thou darest ap- 
pear. 

And meet a lance the fiercest heroes fear. 

Unhappy they, and born of luckless sires. 

Who tempt our fury when Minerva fires! 

But if from Heav'n, celestial, thou de- 
scend. 

Know, with immortals we no more con- 
tend. 160 

Not long Lycurgus view'd the golden 
light, 

That daring man who mix'd with Gods in 
fight; 

Bacchus, and Bacchus' votaries, he drove 

With brandish'd steel from Nyssa's sacred 
grove ; 

Their consecrated spears lay scatter'd 
round. 

With curling vines and twisted ivy bound ; 

While Bacchus headlong sought the briny 
flood. 

And Thetis' arms received the trembling 
God. 

Nor fail'd the crime th' immortals' wrath 
to move 

(Th' immortals bless'd with endless ease 
above); 170 

Deprived of sight, by their avenging doom. 

Cheerless he breathed, and wander'd in the 
gloom: 

Then sunk unpitied to the dire abodes, 

A wretck accurs'd, and hated by the 
Gods! 

I brave not Heav'n; but if the fruits of 
earth 

Sustain thy life, and human be thy birth, 

Bold as thou art, too prodigal of breath. 

Approach, and enter the dark gates of 
death.' 

* What, or from whence I am, or who my 

sire ' 

(Replied the Chief), 'can Tydeus' son in- 
quire ? 180 

Like leaves on trees the race of man is 
found. 

Now green in youth, now with'ring on the 
ground: 

Another race the foil' wing spring supplies, 

They fall successive, and successive rise; 



So generations in their course decay, 

So flourish these, when those are past 

away. 
But if thou still persist to search my birth. 
Then hear a tale that fills the spacious 

earth : 
' A city stands on Argos' utmost bound 
(Argos the fair, for warlike steeds re- 

nown'd) ; 190 

yEolian Sisyphus, with wisdom bless'd, 
In ancient time the happy walls possess'd. 
Then call'd Ephyre: Glaucus was his 

son; 
Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon, 
Who o'er the sons of men in beauty shined. 
Loved for that valour which preserves 

mankind. 
Then mighty Proetus Argos' sceptre 

sway'd. 
Whose hard commands Bellerophon obey'd. 
With direful jealousy the monarch raged. 
And the brave Prince in numerous toils en- 
gaged, 200 
For him, Antea burn'd with lawless flame. 
And strove to tempt him from the paths of 

fame: 
In vain she tempted the relentless youth. 
Endued with wisdom, sacred fear, and 

truth. 
Fired at his scorn, the Queen to Proetus 

fled. 
And begg'd revenge for her insulted bed: 
Incens'd he heard, resolving on his fate; 
But hospitable laws restrain'd his hate: 
To Lycia the devoted youth he sent. 
With tablets seal'd, that told his dire in- 
tent. 210 
Now, bless'd by ev'ry Power who guards 

the good, 
The Chief arrived at Xanthus' silver flood: 
There Lycia's Monarch paid him honours 

due; 
Nine days he feasted, and nine bulls he 

slew. 
But when the tenth bright morning orient 

glow'd 
The faithful youth his Monarch's mandate 

shew'd: 
The fatal tablets, till that instant seal'd. 
The deathful secret to the King reveal'd. 
First, dire Chimsera's conquest was en- 

join'd; 
A mingled monster, of no mortal kind; 220 
Behind, a dragon's fiery tail was spread; 
A goat's rough body bore a lion's head; 



326 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire; 
Her gaping throat emits infernal fire. 

* This pest he slaughter'd (for he read 

the skies, 

And trusted Heav'n's informing pro- 
digies) ; 

Then met in arms the Solymsean crew 

(Fiercest of men), and those the warrior 
slew. 

Next the bold Amazons' whole force de- 
fied; 

And conquer'd still, for Heav'n was on his 
side. 230 

* Nor ended here his toils: his Lycian 

foes, 
At his return, a treach'rous ambush rose, 
With levell'd spears along the winding 

shore: 
There fell they breathless, and return'd no 

more. 

* At length the Monarch with repentant 

grief 
Confess'd the Gods, and god-descended 

Chief; 
His daughter gave, the stranger to detain, 
With half the honours of his ample reign. 
The Lycians grant a chosen space of 

ground. 
With woods, with vineyards, and with har- 
vests crowu'd. 240 
There long the Chief his happy lot possess'd, 
AVith two brave sons and one fair daughter 

bless'd: 
(Fair ev'n in heav'nly eyes; her fruitful 

love 
Crown'd with Sarpedon's birth th' embrace 

of Jove). 
But when at last, distracted in his mind, 
Forsook by Heav'n, forsaking human kind. 
Wide o'er th' Aleian field he chose to 

stray, 
A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way ! 
Woes heap'd on woes consumed his wasted 

heart; 
His beauteous daughter fell by Phcebe's 

dart; 250 

His eldest-born by raging Mars was slain. 
In combat on the Solymsean plain. 
Hippolochus survived; from him I came, 
The honour'd author of my birth and 

name; 
By his decree I sought the Trojan town, 
By his instructions learn to win renown; 
To stand the first in worth as in command. 
To add new honours to my native land; 



Before my eyes my mighty sires to place, 
And emulate the glories of our race.' 260 
He spoke, and transport fill'd Tydides' 

heart; 
In earth the gen'rous warrior fix'd his 

dart. 
Then friendly, thus, the Lycian prince ad- 

dress'd: 
* Welcome, my brave hereditary guest! 
Thus ever let us meet with kind embrace, 
Nor stain the sacred friendship of our 

race. 
Know, Chief, our grandsires have been 

guests of old, 
(Eneus the strong, Bellerophon the bold; 
Our ancient seat his honour'd presence 

graced, 
Where twenty days in genial rites he 

pass'd. 270 

The parting heroes mutual presents left; 
A golden goblet was thy grandsire's gift; 
CEneus a belt of matchless work bestow'd. 
That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent 

glow'd 
(This from his pledge I learn'd, which, 

safely stored 
Among my treasures, still adorns my 

board : 
For Tydeus left me young, when Thebes' 

wall 
Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall). 
Mindful of this, in friendship let us' 

join; 
If Heav'n our steps to foreign lands in- 
cline, 280 
My guest in Argos thou, and I in Lycia 

thine. 
Enough of Trojans to this lance shall 

yield, 
In the full harvest of yon ample field; 
Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with 

gore; 
But thou and Diomed be foes no more. 
Now change we arms, and prove to either 

host 
We guard the friendship of the line we 

boast.' 
Thus having said, the gallant Chiefs 

alight, 
Their hands they join, their mutual faith 

they plight; 
Brave Glaucus then each narrow thought 

resign'd 290 

(Jove warm'd his bosom and enlarged his 

mind); 



THE ILIAD 



327 



For Diomed's brass arms, of mean device, 
For which nine oxen paid (a vulgar 

price), 
He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought; 
A hundred beeves the shining purchase 

bought. 
Meantime the guardian of the Trojan 

state. 
Great Hector, enter'd at the Scsean gate. 
Beneath the beech-trees' consecrated 

shades. 
The Trojan matrons and the Trojan maids 
Around him flock'd, all press'd with pious 

care 300 

For husbands, brothers, sons, engaged in 

war. 
He bids the train in long procession go. 
And seek the Gods, t' avert th' impending 

woe. 
And now to Priam's stately courts he 

came, 
Rais'd on arch'd columns of stupendous 

frame ; 
O'er these a range of marble structure 

runs; 
The rich pavilions of his fifty sons, 
In fifty chambers lodg'd: and rooms of 

state 
Opposed to those, where Priam's daughters 

sate: 
Twelve domes for them and their lov'd 

spouses shone, 310 

Of equal beauty, and of polish'd stone. 
Hither great Hector pass'd, nor pass'd 

unseen 
Of royal Hecuba, his mother Queen 
(With her Laodic^, whose beauteous face 
Surpass'd the nymphs of Troy's illustrious 

race). 
Long in a strict embrace she held her 

son. 
And press'd his hand, and tender thus 

begun: 
* O Hector ! say, what great occasion 

calls 
My son from fight, when Greece surrounds 

our walls ? 
Com'st thou to supplicate th' almighty 

Power, 320 

With lifted hands from Ilion's lofty tower ? 
Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus 

crown'd, 
In Jove's high name, to sprinkle on the 

ground. 
And pay due vows to all the Gods around. 



Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy 

soul. 
And draw new spirits from the gen'rous 

bowl; 
Spent as thou art with long laborious fight, 
The brave defender of thy country's right.' 
* Far hence be Bacchus' gifts ' (the 

Chief rejoin'd); 
* Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind, 330 
Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble 

mind. 
Let Chiefs abstain, and spare the sacred 

juice. 
To sprinkle to the Gods, its better use. 
By me that holy office were profaned; 
111 fits it me, with human gore distain'd, 
To the pure skies these horrid hands to 

raise. 
Or offer Heav'n's great Sire polluted 

praise. 
You with your matrons, go, a spotless 

train ! 
And burn rich odours in Minerva's fane. 
The largest mantle your full wardrobes 

hold, 340 

Most prized for art, and labour'd o'er with 

gold, 
Before the Goddess' honour'd knees be 

spread, 
And twelve young heifers to her altar 

led. 
So may the Power, atoned by fervent 

prayer. 
Our wives, our infants, and our city spare, 
And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire. 
Who mows whole troops, and makes all 

Troy retire. 
Be this, O mother, your religious care; 
I go to rouse soft Paris to the war; 
If yet, not lost to all the sense of shame, 350 
The recreant warrior hear the voice of 

Fame. 
Oh would kind earth the hateful wretch 

embrace. 
That pest of Troy, that ruin of our race ! 
Deep to the dark abyss might he descend, 
Troy yet should flourish, and my sorrows 

end.' 
This heard, she gave command; and 

summon'd came 
Each noble matron, and illustrious dame. 
The Phrygian Queen to her rich wardrobe 

went, 
Where treasured odours breathed a costly 

scent. 



328 



TRANSLATIONS FROAl HOMER 



There lay the vestures of no vulgar art, 360 
Sidonian maids embroider'd Gv'ry part, 
Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore, 
With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore. 
Here as the Queen revolv'd with careful 

eyes 
The various textures and the various dyes. 
She chose a veil that shone superior far. 
And glowed refulgent as the morning star. 
Herself with this the long procession 

leads; 
The train majestically slow proceeds. 
Soon as to Ilion's topmost tower they 

come, 370 

And awful reach the high Palladian dome, 
Antenor's consort, fair Theano, waits 
As Pallas' priestess, and unbars the gates. 
With hands uplifted, and imploring eyes. 
They fill the dome with supplicating cries. 
The priestess then the shining veil dis- 
plays. 
Placed on Minerva's knees, and thus she 

prays : 
* Oh awful Goddess! ever-dreadful Maid, 
Troy's strong defence, unconquer'd Pallas, 

aid! 
Break thou Tydides' spear, and let him 

fall 380 

Prone on the dust before the Trojan wall. 
So twelve young heifers, guiltless of the 

yoke, 
Shall fill thy temple with a grateful 

smoke. 
But thou, atoned by penitence and prayer. 
Ourselves, our infants, and our city spare! ' 
So pray'd the priestess in her holy fane; 
So vow'd the matrons, but they vow'd in 

vain. 
While these appear before the Power 

with prayers. 
Hector to Paris' loftj"^ dome repairs. 
Himself the mansion rais'd, from every 

part 390 

Assembling architects of matchless art. 
Near Priam's court and Hector's palace 

stands 
The pompous structure, and the town com- 
mands, 
A spear the hero bore of wondrous 

strength. 
Of full ten cubits was the lance's length; 
The steely point with golden ringlets 

join'd, 
Before him brandish'd, at each motion 

shined. 



Thus ent'ring, in the glitt'ring rooms he 

found 
His brother-Chief, whose useless arms lay 

round. 
His eyes delighting with their splendid 

show, 400 

Bright'ning the shield, and polishing the 

bow. 
Beside him Helen with her virgins stands, 
Guides their rich labours, and instructs 

their hands. 
Him thus inactive, with an ardent look 
The Prince beheld, and high resenting 

spoke: 
* Thy hate to Troy is this the time to 

shew ? 
(Oh wretch ill-fated, and thy country's 

foe!) 
Paris and Greece against us both conspire. 
Thy close resentment, and their vengeful 

ire. 
For thee great Hion's guardian heroes 

fall, 410 

Till heaps of dead alone defend her wall; 
For thee the soldier feleeds, the matron 

mourns. 
And wasteful war in all its fury burns. 
Ungrateful man! deserves not this thy 

eare. 
Our troops to hearten, and our toils to 

share ? 
Rise, or behold the conqu'ring flames as- 
cend, 
And all the Phr^'gian glories at an end.' 
' Brother, 't is just ' (replied the beauteous 

youth), 
' Thy free remonstrance proves thy worth 

and truth: 
Yet charge my absence less, oh gen'rous 

Chief ! 420 

On hate to Troy, than conscious shame 

and grief. 
Here, hid from human eyes, thy brother 

sate. 
And mourn'd in secret his and Ilion's fate. 
'Tis now enough: now glory spreads her 

charms. 
And beauteous Helen calls her Chief to 

arms. 
Conquest to-day my happier sword may 

bless, 
'Tis man's to fight, but HeavVs to give 

success. 
But while I arm, contain thy ardent mind; 
Or go, and Paris shall not lag behind.' 



THE ILIAD 



329 



He said, nor answer'd Priam's warlike 
son ; 430 

When Helen thus with lowly grace begun: 
' Oh gen'rous brother! if the guilty 
dame 

That caus'd these woes deserves a sister's 
name ! 

Would Heav'n, ere all these dreadful deeds 
were done, 

The day that shew'd me to the golden sun 

Had seen my death! Why did not whirl- 
winds bear 

The fatal infant to the fowls of air ? 

Why sunk I not beneath the whelming 
tide, 

And midst the roarings of the waters 
died ? 

Heav*n fill'd up all my ills, and I ac- 
curst 440 

Bore all, and Paris of those ills the 
worst. 

Helen at least a braver spouse might claim, 

Warm'd with some Virtue, some regard of 
Fame ! 

Now, tired with toils, thy fainting limbs 
recline. 

With toils sustain' d for Paris' sake and 
mine: 

The Gods have link'd our miserable doom, 

Our present woe and infamy to come: 

Wide shall it spread, and last thro' ages 
long, 

Example sad! and tlieme of future song.' 
The Chief replied: ' This Time forbids 
to rest: 450 

The Trojan bands, by hostile fury press'd. 

Demand their Hector, and his arm re- 
quire; 

The combat urges, and my soul 's on fire. 

Urge thou thy knight to march where 
glory calls. 

And timely join me, ere I leave the walls. 

Ere yet I mingle in the direful fray, 

My wife, my infant, claim a moment's 
stay: 

This day (perhaps the last that sees me 
here) 

Demands a parting word, a tender tear: 

This day some God, who hates our Trojan 
land, 460 

May vanquish Hector by a Grecian hand.' 
He said, and pass'd with sad presaging 
heart 

To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer 
part; 



At home he sought her, but he sought in 

vain : 
She, with one maid of all her menial train, 
Had thence retired; and, with her second 

The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy, 
Pensive she stood on Ilion's tow'ry height, 
Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight; 
There her sad eyes in vain her lord ex- 
plore, 470 
Or weep the wounds her bleeding country 

bore. 
But he who found not whom his soul 

desired, 
Whose virtue charm'd him as her beauty 

fired. 
Stood in the gates, and asked what way she 

bent 
Her parting steps ? If to the fane she 

went. 
Where late the mourning matrons made 

resort; 
Or sought her sisters in the Trojan court ? 
' Not to the court ' (replied th' attendant 

train), 
* Nor, mixed with matrons, to Minerva's 

fane : 
To Ilion's steepy tower she bent her 

way, 480 

To mark the fortunes of the doubtful 

day. 
Troy fled, she heard, before the Grecian 

sword : 
She heard, and trembled for her distant 

lord; 
Distracted with surprise, she seemed to 

fly, 

Fear on her cheek, and sorrow in her eye. 
The nurse attended with her infant boy, 
The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy.' 
Hector, this heard, return'd without 

delay; 
Swift thro' the town he trod his former 

way. 
Thro' streets of palaces and walks of 

state ; 490 

And met the mourner at the Scsean gate. 
With haste to meet him sprung the joyful 

fair. 
His blameless wife, Eetion's wealthy heir 
(Cicilian Thebd great Eetion sway'd. 
And Hippoplacus' wide-extended shade): 
The nurse stood near, in whose embraces 

press'd. 
His only hope hung smiling at her breast, 



;3o 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Whom each soft charm and early grace 

adorn, 
Fair as the new-born star that gilds the 

morn. 
To this lov'd infant Hector gave the 

name 500 

Scamandrius, from Scaraander's honour'd 

stream : 
Astyanax the Trojans call'd the boy, 
From his great father, the defence of 

Troy. 
Silent the warrior smil'd, and, pleas'd, re- 

sign'd 
To tender passions all his mighty mind: 
His beauteous Princess cast a mournful 

look. 
Hung on his hand, and then dejected 

spoke ; 
Her bosom labour'd with a boding sigh. 
And the big tear stood trembling in her eye. 
'Too daring Prince! ah, whither dost 

thou run ? 510 

Ah too forgetful of thy wife and son! 
And think'st thou not how wretched we 

shall be, 
A widow I, a helpless orphan he ! 
For sure such courage length of life de- 
nies, 
And thou must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice. 
Greece m her single heroes strove in vain; 
Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be 

slain ! 
Oh grant me, Gods! ere Hector meets his 

doom, 
All I can ask of Heav'n, an early tomb ! 
So shall my days in one sad tenor run, 520 
And end with sorrows as they first begun. 
No parent now remains, my griefs to 

share, 
No father's aid, no mother's tender care. 
The fierce Achilles wrapt our walls in fire, 
Laid Theb^ waste, and slew my warlike 

sire ! 
His fate compassion in the victor bred; 
Stern as he was, he yet revered the dead, 
His radiant arms preserv'd from hostile 

spoil, 
And laid him decent on the funeral pile; 
Then raised a mountain where his bones 

were burn'd; 530 

The mountain nymphs the rural tomb 

adorn'd; 
Jove's sylvan daughters bade their elms 

bestow 
A barren shade, and in his honour grow. 



* By the same arm my sev'n brave bro- 
thers fell; 
In one sad day beheld the gates of Hell; 
While the fat herds and snowy flocks tliey 

fed, 
Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled! 
My mother lived to bear the victor's bands, 
The Queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands: 
Redeem'd too late, she scarce beheld 

again 540 

Her pleasing empire and her native plain, 
When, ah! oppress' d by life-consuming 

woe, 
She fell a victim to Diana's bow. 

' Yet while my Hector still survives, I see 
My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee. 
Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, all. 
Once more will perish if my Hector fall. 
Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share; 
Oh prove a husband's and a father's care! 
That quarter most the skilful Greeks 

annoy, ^ 550 

Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of 

Troy: 
Thou, from this tower defend th' important 

post; 
There Agamemnon points his dreadful 

host, 
That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain. 
And there the vengeful Spartan fires his 

train. 
Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have 

giv'n, 
Or led by hopes, or dictated from Heav'n. 
Let others in the field their arms employ. 
But stay my Hector here, and guard his 

troy.' 
The Chief replied: * That post shall be 

my care, 560 

Nor that alone, but all the works of war. 
How would the sons of Troy, in arms re- 

novvn'd. 
And Troy's proud dames, whose garments 

sweep the ground, 
Attaint the lustre of my former name, 
Should Hector basely quit the field of 

fame ? 
My early youth was bred to martial pains, 
My soul impels me to th' embattled plains: 
Let me be foremost to defend the throne, 
And guard my father's glories, and my own. 
Yet come it will, the day decreed by 

Fates 570 

(How my heart trembles while my tongue 

relates) I 



THE ILIAD 



331 



The day when thou, imperial Troy! must 

bend, 
And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end. 
And yet no dire presage so wounds my 

mind, 
My mother's death, the ruin of my kind, 
Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore, 
Not all my brothers gasping on the shore; 
As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread; 
I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led! 
In Argive looms our battles to design, 580 
And woes of which so large a part was 

thine! 
To bear the victor's hard commands, or 

bring 
The weight of waters from Hyperia's 

spring. , , J ^ 

There, while you groan beneath the load of 

life. 
They cry. Behold the mighty Hector's 

wife! 
Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears 

to see. 
Embitters all thy woes by naming me. 
The thoughts of glory past, and present 

shame, 
A thousand griefs, shall waken at the 

name! 
May I lie cold before that dreadful day, 590 
Press'd with a load of monumental clay ! 
Thy Hector, wrapp'd in everlasting sleep, 
Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee 

weep.' 
Thus having spoke, th' illustrious Chief 

of Troy 
Stretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely 

boy. 
The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast. 
Scared at the dazzling helm, and nodding 

crest. 
With secret pleasure each fond parent 

smil'd. 
And Hector hasted to relieve his child; 
The glitt'ring terrors from his brows un- 
bound, 600 
And placed the beaming helmet on the 

ground. 
Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in 

air, 
Thus to the Gods preferr'd a father's 

prayer: 
'O thou! whose glory fills th' ethereal 

throne, 
A-ud all ye deathless Powers! protect my 

son! 



Grant him, like me, to purchase just re- 
nown, 
To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown, 
Against his country's foes the war to 

wage. 
And rise the Hector of the future age ! 609 
So when, triumphant from successful toils 
Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils, 
Whole hosts may hail him with deserv'd 

acclaim. 
And say, This Chief transcends his father's 

fame: 
While pleas 'd, amidst the gen'ral shouts of 

Troy, 
His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with 

He spoke, and fondly gazing on her 

charms, 
Restor'd the pleasing burden to her arms; 
Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she 

laid, 
Hush'd to repose, and with a smile sur- 

vey'd. 
The troubled pleasure soon chastised by 

fear, 620 

She mingled with the smile a tender tear. 
The soften'd Chief with kind compassion 

view'd. 
And dried the falling drops, and thus pur- 
sued: 
' Andromache! my soul's far better part. 
Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy 

heart ? 
No hostile hand can antedate my doom. 
Till Fate condemns me to the silent tomb. 
Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth, 
And such the hard condition of our birth. 
No force can then resist, no flight can save; 
All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. 
No more — but hasten to thy tasks at 

home, 632 

There guide the spindle, and direct the 

loom: 
Me glory summons to the martial scene. 
The field of combat is the sphere for 

men. 
Where heroes war, the foremost place I 

claim. 
The first in danger as the first in fame.' 
Thus having said, the glorious Chief re- 
sumes 
His tow'ry helmet, black with shading 

plumes. 
His Princess parts with a prophetic sigh, 640 
Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye, 



332 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



That stream'd at ev'ry look: then, moving 
slow, 

Sought her own palace, and indulged her 
woe. 

There, while her tears deplor'd the god- 
like man, 

Thro' all her train the soft infection ran ; 

The pious maids their mingled sorrows 
shed, 

And mourn the living Hector as the dead. 
But now, no longer deaf to honour's call. 

Forth issues Paris from the palace wall. 

In brazen arms that cast a gleamy ray, 650 

Swift thro' the town the warrior bends his 
way. 

The wanton courser thus, with reins un- 
bound, 

Breaks from his stall, and beats the trem- 
bling ground; 

Pamper'd and proud he seeks the wonted 
tides, 

And laves, in height of blood, his shining 
sides: 

His head now freed he tosses to the skies; 

His mane dishevell'd o'er his shoulders 
flies; 

He snuffs the females in the distant plain. 

And springs, exulting, to his fields again. 

With equal triumph, sprightly, bold, and 
gay, 660 

In arms refulgent as the God of Day, 

The son of Priam, glorying in his might, 

Rush'd forth with Hector to the fields of 
fight. 
And now the warriors passing on the 
way, 

The graceful Paris first excused his stay. 

To whom the noble Hector thus replied : 

*0 Chief! in blood, and now in arms, al- 
lied! 

Thy power in war with justice none con- 
test; 

Known is thy courage, and thy strength 
confess'd. 

What pity, sloth should seize a soul so 
brave, 670 

Or godlike Paris live a woman's slave! 

My heart weeps blood at what the Trojans 
say. 

And hopes thy deeds shall wipe the stain 
away. 

Haste then, in all their glorious labours 
share ; 

For much they suffer, for thy sake, in 
war. 



These ills shall cease, whene'er by Jove's 
decree 

We crown the bowl to Heav'n and Liberty: 

While the proud foe his frustrate triumphs 
mourns. 

And Greece indignant thro' her seas re- 
turns.' 



BOOK VII 

THE SINGLE COMBAT OF HECTOR AND AJAX 
THE ARGUMENT 

The battle renewing with double ardour upon 
the return of Hector, Minerva is under ap- 
prehensions for the Greeks. Apollo, seeing 
her descend from Olympus, joins her near 
the Scsean gate. They agree to put off the 
general engagement for that day, and incite 
Hector to challenge the Greeks to a siHgle 
combat. Nine of the Princes accepting the 
challenge, the lot is cast, and falls upon 
Ajax. These heroes, after several attacks, 
are parted by the night. The Trojans call- 
ing a council, Antenor proposes the delivery 
of Helen to the Greeks, to which Paris will 
not consent, but offers to restore them her 
riches. Priam sends a herald to make this 
offer, and to demand a truce for burning the 
dead, the last of which only is agreed to by 
Agamemnon. When the funerals are per- 
formed, the Greeks, pursuant to the advice 
of Nestor, erect a fortification to protect their 
fleet and camp, flanked with towers, and de- 
fended by a ditch and palisades. Neptune 
testifies his jealousy at this work, but is 
pacified by a promise from Jupiter. Both 
armies pass the night in feasting, but Jupi- 
ter disheartens the Trojans with thunder and 
other signs of his wrath. 

The three-and-twentieth day ends with the 
duel of Hector and Ajax ; tlie next day the 
truce is agreed : another is taken up in the 
funeral rites of the slain ; and one more in 
building the fortification before the ships ; 
so that somewhat above three days is em- 
ployed in this book. The scene lies wholly 
in the field. 

So spoke the guardian of the Trojan state. 
Then rush'd impetuous thro' the Scaean 

gate. 
Him Paris follow'd to the dire alarms; 
Both breathing slaughter, both resolv'd in 

arms. 
As when to sailors lab'ring thro' the main, 
That long had heav'd the weary oar m vain, 



THE ILIAD 



333 



Jove bids at length th' expected gales arise; 
The gales blow grateful, and the vessel flies: 
So welcome these to Troy's desiring train: 
The bands are cheer'd, the war awakes 

again. lo 

Bold Paris first the work of death begun 
On great Menestheus, Areithous' son; 
Sprung from the fair Philoineda's embrace, 
The pleasing Arne was his native place. 
Then sunk Eioneus to the shades below; 
Beneath his steely casque he felt the blow 
Full on his neck, from Hector's weighty 

hand ; 
And roU'd, with limbs relax'd, along the 

land. 
By Glaucus' spear the bold Iphinous bleeds, 
Fix'd in the shoulder as he mounts his 

steeds; 20 

Headlong he tumbles: his slack nerves un- 
bound 
Drop the cold useless members on the 

ground. 
When now Minerva saw her Argives 

slain, 
From vast Olympus to the gleaming plain 
Fierce she descends: Apollo mark'd her 

flight. 
Nor shot less swift from Ilion's tow'ry 

height: 
Radiant they met, beneath the beechen 

shade ; 
When thus Apollo to the Blue-eyed Maid : 
* What cause, O daughter of almighty 

Jove ! 
Thus wings thy progress from the realms 

above ? 30 

Once more impetuous dost thou bend thy 

way, 
To give to Greece the long-divided day ? 
Too much has Troy already felt thy hate, 
Now breathe thy rage, and hush the stern 

debate : 
This day the bus'ness of the field suspend ; 
War soon shall kindle, and great Ilion bend ; 
Since vengeful Goddesses confed'rate join 
To raze her walls, tho' built by hands di- 
vine.' 
To whom the progeny of Jove replies: 
*I left for this the council of the skies: 40 
But who shall bid conflicting hosts forbear. 
What art shall calm the furious sons of 

war?' 
To her the God : * Great Hector's soul 

incite 
To dare the boldest Greek to single fight, 



Till Greece, provoked, from all her num- 
bers shew 
A warrior worthy to be Hector's foe.' 
At this agreed, the heav'uly Powers 

withdrew; 
Sajre Helenus their secret counsels knew: 
Hector inspired he sought: to him ad- 

dress'd. 
Thus told the dictates of his sacred breast: 
* O son of Priam ! let thy faithful ear 51 
Receive my words; thy friend and brother 

hear! 
Go forth persuasive, and awhile engage 
The warring nations to suspend their rage; 
Then dare the boldest of the hostile train 
To mortal combat on the listed plain. 
For not this day shall end thy glorious 

date; 
The Gods have spoke it, and their voice is 

Fate.' 
He said: the warrior heard the word 

with joy; 
Then with his spear restrain'd the youth of 

Troy, 60 

Held by the midst athwart. On either 

hand 
The squadrons part; th' expecting Trojans 

stand. 
Great Agamemnon bids the Greeks for- 
bear; 
They breathe, and hush the tumult of the 

war. 
Th' Athenian Maid, and glorious God of 

pay. 
With silent joy the settling hosts survey : 
In form of vultures, on the beech's height 
They sit conceal'd, and wait the future 

fight. 
The thronging troops obscure the dusky 

fields, 
Horrid with bristling spears, and gleaming 

shields. 70 

As when a gen'ral darkness veils the main 
(Soft Zephyr curling the wide vvat'ry 

plain), 
The waves scarce heave, the face of ocean 

sleeps. 
And a still horror saddens all the deeps: 
Thus in thick orders settling wide around. 
At length composed they sit, and shade the 

ground. 
Great Hector first amidst both armies 

broke 
The solemn silence, and their powers be- 
spoke : 



334 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



* Hear all ye Trojan, all ye Grecian 
bands, 

What my soul prompts, and what some 
God commands. 80 

Great Jove, averse pur warfare to compose, 

O'erwhelms the nations with new toils and 
woes; 

War with a fiercer tide once more returns, 

Till Ilion falls, or till yon navy burns. 

You then, O Princes of the Greeks! ap- 
pear; 

'T is Hector speaks, and calls the Gods to 
bear: 

From all your troops select the boldest 
knight. 

And him, the boldest. Hector dares to 
fight. 

Here if I fall, by chance of battle slain, 

Be his my spoil, and his these arms re- 
main ; 90 

But let my body, to my friends return'd, 

By Trojan hands, and Trojan flames be 
burn'd. 

And if Apollo, in whose aid I trust, 

Shall stretch your daring champion in the 
dust; 

If mine the glory to despoil the foe. 

On Phcebus' temple I '11 his arms bestow; 

The breathless carcass to your navy sent, 

Greece on the shore shall raise a monu- 
ment; 

Which when some future mariner surveys, 

Wash'd by broad Hellespont's resounding 
seas, 100 

Thus shall he say, A valiant Greek lies 
there, 

By Hector slain, the mighty man of war. 

The stone shall tell your vanquish'd hero's 
name, 

And distant ages learn the victor's fame.' 
This fierce defiance Greece astonish'd 
heard, 

Blush'd to refuse, and to accept it fear'd. 

Stern Menelaus first the silence broke, 

And, inly groaning, thus opprobrious spoke: 
' Women of Greece! Oh scandal of your 
race. 

Whose coward souls your manly forms dis- 
grace, 110 

How great the shame, when ev'ry age shall 
know 

That not a Grecian met this noble foe ! 

Go then, resolve to earth from whence ye 
grew, 

A heartless, spiritless, inglorious crew ! 



Be what ye seem, unanimated clay! 
Myself will dare the danger of the day. 
'T is man's bold task the gen'rous strife to 

try, 
But in the hands of God is victory.' 

These words scarce spoke, with gen'rous 

ardour press'd, 
His manly limbs in azure arms he dress'd: 
That day, Atrides! a superior hand 121 

Had stretch'd thee breathless on the hostile 

strand ; 
But all at once, thy fury to compose, 
The Kings of Greece, an awful band, arose: 
Ev'n he their Chief, great Agamemnon, 

press'd 
Thy daring hand, and this advice ad- 

dress'd: 
' Whither, O Menelaus! wouldst thou run, 
And tempt a fate which prudence bids thee 

shun ? 
Griev'd tho' thou art, forbear the rash de- 
sign; 
Great Hector's arm is mightier far than 

thine. 130 

Ev'n fierce Achilles learn'd its force to 

fear, 
And trembling met this dreadful son of 

war. 
Sit thou secure amidst thy social band; 
Greece in our cause shall arm some power- 
ful hand. 
The mightiest warrior of th' Achaian name, 
Tho' bold, and burning with desire of 

Fame, 
Content, the doubtful honour might forego, 
So great the danger, and so brave the 

foe.' 
He said, and turn'd his brother's venge- 
ful mind; 
He stoop'd to reason,^ aad his rage resign'd. 
No longer bent to rush oa eertain harms: 141 
His joyful friends unbrace his azure arms. 
He, from whose lips divine persuasion 

flows. 
Grave Nestor then, in graceful act arose. 
Thus to the Kings he spoke : ' What grief, 

what shame, 
Attend on Greece, and all the Grecian 

name ! 
How shall, alas! her hoary heroes mourn 
Their sons degen'rate, and their race a 

scorn; 
What tears shall down thy silver beard be 

roll'd, 
Oh Peleus, old iu arms, in wisdom old! 150 



THE ILIAD 



335 



Once with what joy the gen'rous Prince 

would hear 
Of ev'ry Chief, who fought this glorious 

war, 
Participate their fame, and pleas'd inquire 
Each name, each action, and each hero's 

sire ! 
Gods! should he see our warriors trembling 

stand. 
And trembling all before one hostile hand; 
How would he lift his aged arms on high, 
Lament inglorious Greece, and beg to die! 
Oh! would to all th' immortal Powers 

above, 
Minerva, Phcebus, and almighty Jove! i6o 
Years might again roll back, my youth re- 
new. 
And give this arm the spring which once it 

knew: 
When, tierce in war, where Jardan's waters 

fall 
I led my troops to Phea's trembling wall, 
And with th' Arcadian spears my prowess 

tried, 
Where Celadon rolls down his rapid tide. 
There Ereuthalion braved us in the field, 
Proud Areithous' dreadful arms to wield ; 
Great Areithous, known from shore to shore 
By the huge, knotted, iron mace he bore; 170 
No lance he shook, nor bent the twanging 

bow. 
But broke, with this, the battle of the foe. 
Him not by manly force Lycurgus slew. 
Whose guileful jav'lin from the thicket 

flew. 
Deep in a winding way his breast assail'd, 
Nor aught the warrior's thund'ring mace 

avail'd : 
Supine he fell: those arms which Mars be- 
fore 
Had giv'n the vanqulsh'd, now the victor 

bore: 
But when old age had dimm'd Lycurgus' 

eyes. 
To Ereuthalion he consign'd the prize. 180 
Furious with this, he crush'd our levell'd 

bands. 
And dared the trial of the strongest hands; 
Nor could the strongest hands his fury 

stay; 
All saw, and fear'd, his huge tempestuous 

sway; 
Till I, the youngest of the host, appear'd, 
And, youngest, met whom all our army 

fear'd. 



I fought the Chief; my arms Minerva 

crown'd : 
Prone fell the giant o'er a length of 

ground. 
What then he was, oh were your Nestor 

now ! 
Not Hector's self should want an equal foe. 
But, warriors, you that youthful vigour 

boast, 191 

The flower of Greece, th' examples of our 

host. 
Sprung from such fathers, who such 

numbers sway. 
Can you stand tremblings and desert the 

day?' 
His warm reproofs the list'ning Kings 

inflame; 
And nine, the noblest of the Grecian name, 
Upstarted fierce: but far before the rest 
The King of men advanc'd his dauntless 

breast ; 
Then bold Tydides, great in arms, appear'd; 
And next his bulk gigantic Ajax rear'd. 200 
Oileus follow'd: Idomen was there. 
And Merion, dreadful as the God of War: 
With these Eurypylus and Thoas stand. 
And wise Ulysses closed the daring band. 
All these, alike inspired with noble rage, 
Demand the fight. To whom the Pylian 

sage: 
' Lest thirst of glory your brave souls 

divide, 
What Chief shall combat, let the lots de- 
cide. 
Whom Heav'n shall choose, be his the 

chance to raise 
His country's fame, his own immortal 

praise.' 210 

The lots produced, each hero signs his 

own; 
Then in the Gen'ral's helm the fates are 

thrown. 
The people pray with lifted eyes and hands. 
And vows like these ascend from all the 

bands: 
'Grant thou, Almighty! in whose hand is 

fate, 
A worthy champion for the Grecian state. 
This task let Ajax or Tydides prove. 
Or he, the King of Kings, belov'd by 

Jove.' 
Old Nestor shook the casque. By 

Heav'n inspired, 
Leap'd forth the lot, of ev'ry Greek de- 
sired. 220 



33^ 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



This from the right to left the herald 

bears, 
Held out in order to the Grecian peers; 
Each to his rival yields the mark unknown, 
Till godlike Ajax finds the lot his own; 
Surveys th' inscription with rejoicing eyes, 
Then casts before him, and with transport 

cries: 
* Warriors ! I claim the lot, and arm with 

joy; 
Be mine the conquest of this Chief of Troy. 
Now, while my brightest arms my limbs 

invest. 
To Saturn's son be all your vows ad- 

dress'd: 230 

But pray in secret, lest the foes should 

hear. 
And deem your prayers the mean effect of 

fear. 
Said I in secret ? No, your vows declare. 
In such a voice as fills the earth and air. 
Lives there a Chief, whom Ajax ought to 

dread, 
Ajax, in all the toils of battle bred ? 
From warlike Salamis I drew my birth. 
And, born to combats, fear no force of 

earth.' 
He said. The troops with elevated eyes. 
Implore the God whose thunder rends the 

skies: 240 

*0 Father of Mankind, superior Lord! 
On lofty Ida's holy hill ador'd; 
Who in the highest Heav'n hast fix'd thy 

throne, 
Supreme of Gods! unbounded, and alone: 
Grant thou, that Telamon may bear away 
The praise and conquest of this doubtful 

day; 
Or if illustrious Hector be thy care. 
That both may claim it, and that both may 

share.' 
Now Ajax braced his dazzling armour 

on; 
Sheathed in bright steel the giant warrior 

shone : 250 

He moves to combat with majestic pace; 
So stalks in arms the grisly God of Thrace, 
When Jove to punish faithless men pre- 
pares, 
And gives whole nations to the waste of 

wars. 
Thus march'd the Chief, tremendous as a 

God; 
Grimly he smil'd: earth trembled as he 
strode: 



His massy jav'lin quiv'ring in his hand, 
He stood, the bulwark of the Grecian band. 
Thro' every Argive heart new transport 

ran; 
All Troy stood trembling at the mighty 

man. 260 

Ev'n Hector paus'd; and, with new doubt 

oppress'd. 
Felt his great heart suspended in his breast: 
'Twas vain to seek retreat, and vain to 

fear; 
Himself had challenged, and the foe drew 

near. 
Stern Telamon behind his ample shield, 
As from a brazen tower, o'erlook'd the 

field. 
Huge w^as its orb, with seven thick folds 

o'ercast 
Of tough bull-hides; of solid brass the last 
(The work of Tychius, who in H^'le dwell'd, 
And all in arts of armoury excell'd). 270 
This Ajax bore before his manly breast, 
And, threat'ning, thus his adverse Chief 

address'd: 
'Hector! approach my arm, and singly 

know 
What strength thou hast, and what the 

Grecian foe. 
Achilles shuns the fight; yet some there 

are 
Not void of soul, and not unskill'd in war: 
Let him, inactive on the sea-beat shore, 
Indulge his wrath, and aid our arms no 

more; 
Whole troops of heroes Greece has yet to 

boast, 279 

And sends thee one, a sample of her host. 
Such as I am, I come to prove thy might; 
No more — be sudden, and begin the fight.' 
' O son of Telamon, thy country's pride ' 
(To Ajax thus the Trojan Prince replied), 
' JMe, as a boy or woman, would'st thou 

fright. 
New to the field, and trembling at the 

fight? 
Thou meet'st a Chief deserving of thy 

arms. 
To combat born, and bred amidst alarms: 
I know to shift my ground, remount the car, 
Turn, charge, and answer every call of 

war : 290 

To right, to left, the dext'rous lance I 

wield, 
And bear thick battle on my sounding 

shield. 



THE ILIAD 



337 



But open be our figlit, and bold each blow; 
I steal no conquest from a noble foe.' 

He said, and, rising high above the field, 
Whirl'd the long lance against the sev'n- 

fold shield. 
Full on the brass descending from above 
Thro' six bull-hides the furious weapon 

drove, 
Till in the sev'nth it fix'd. Then Ajax 

threw; 
Thro' Hector's shield the forceful jav'lin 

flew; 300 

His corslet enters, and his garment rends. 
And glancing downwards, near his flank 

descends. 
The wary Trojan shrinks, and, bending 

low 
Beneath his buckler, disappoints the blow. 
From their bored shields the Chiefs their 

jav'lins drew. 
Then close impetuous, and the charge re- 
new: 
Fierce as the mountain lions bathed in 

blood, 
Or foaming boars, the terror of the wood. 
At Ajax, Hector his long lance extends; 
The blunted point against the buckler 

bends. 310 

But Ajax, watchful as his foe drew near. 
Drove tliro' the Trojan targe the knotty 

spear; 
It reach 'd his neck, with matchless strength 

impell'd ; 
Spouts the black gore, and dims the shining 

shield. 
Yet ceas'd not Hector thus; but, stooping 

down. 
In his strong hand upheav'd a flinty stone, 
Black, craggy, vast: to this his force he 

bends; 
Full on the brazen boss the stone descends; 
The hollow brass resounded with the 

shock. 
Then Ajax seized the fragment of a rock, 
Applied each nerve, and, swinging round 

on high, 321 

With force tempestuous let the ruin fly: 
The huge stone thund'ring thro' his buckler 

broke ; 
His slacken'd knees receiv'd the numbing 

stroke ; 
Great Hector falls extended on the field, 
His bulk supporting on the shatter'd shield: 
Nor wanted heav'nly aid: Apollo's might 
Confirm'd his sinews, and restored to fight. 



And now both heroes their broad falchions 

drew; 
In flaming circles round their heads they 

flew; 330 

But then by heralds' voice the word was 

giv'n, 
The sacred Ministers of earth and Heav'n: 
Divine Talthybius whom the Greeks em- 
ploy. 
And sage Idseus on the part of Troy, 
Between the swords their peaceful sceptres 

rear'd; 
And first Idseus' awful voice was heard: 
'Forbear, my sons! your farther force 

to prove, 
Both dear to men, and both belov'd of 

Jove. 
To either host your matchless worth is 

known, 
Each sounds your praise, and war is all 

your own. 340 

But now the Night extends her awful shade: 
The Goddess parts you: be the night 

obey'd.' 
To whom great Ajax his high soul ex- 

press'd: 
*0 sage! to Hector be these words ad- 

dress'd. 
Let him, who first provoked our Chiefs to 

fight. 
Let him demand the sanction of the night; 
If first he ask it, I content obey, 
And cease the strife when Hector shews 

the way.* 
' O first of Greeks ' (his noble foe re- ' 

join'd), 
' Whom Heav'n adorns, superior to thy 

kind, 350 

With strength of body, and with worth 

of mind ! 

Now martial law commands us to forbear; 
Hereafter we shall meet in glorious war; 
Some future day shall lengthen out the 

strife, 
And let the Gods decide of death or life! 
Since then the Night extends her gloomy 

shade, 
And Heav'n enjoins it, be the night obey'd. 
Return, brave Ajax, to thy Grecian friends, 
And joy the nations whom thy arm de- 
fends ; 
As I shall glad each Chief, and Trojan 

wife, 360 

Who wearies Heav'n with vows for Hec- 
tor's life. 



338 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



But let us, on this memorable day, 

Exchange some gift; that Greece and 
Troy may say, 

"Not hate, but glory, made these Chiefs 
contend ; 

And each brave foe was in his soul a 
friend." ' 
With that, a sword with stars of silver 
graced. 

The baldrick studded, and the sheath en- 
chased. 

He gave the Greek. The gen'rous Greek 
bestow'd 

A radiant belt that rich with purple glow'd. 

Then with majestic grace they quit the 
plain; 370 

This seeks the Grecian, that the Phrygian 
train. 
The Trojan bands returning Hector wait. 

And hail with joy the champion of their 
state : 

Escaped great Ajax, they survey'd him 
round. 

Alive, unharm'd, and vig'rous from his 
wound. 

To Troy's high gates the godlike man they 
bear. 

Their present triumph, as their late de- 
spair. 
But Ajax, glorying in his hardy deed, 

The well-arm'd Greeks to Agamemnon 
lead. 

A steer for sacrifice the King design'd, 380 

Of full five years, and of the nobler kind. 

The victim falls; they strip the smoking 
hide, 

The beast they quarter, and the joints di- 
vide; 

Then spread the tables, the repast pre- 
pare, 

Each takes his seat, and each receives his 
share. 

The King himself (an honorary sign) 

Before great Ajax placed the mighty chine. 

When now the rage of hunger was re- 
mov'd, 

Nestor, in each persuasive art approv'd, 

The sage whose counsels long had sway'd 
the rest, 390 

In words like these his prudent thought ex- 
press'd: 
*How dear, King! this fatal day has 
cost ! 

What Greeks are perish'd I what a people 
lost! 



What tides of blood have drench'd Sca- 
raander's shore! 

What crowds of heroes sunk, to rise no 
more! 

Then hear me, Chief! nor let the morrow's 
light 

Awake thy squadrons to new toils of fight: 

Some space at least permit the war to 
breathe, 

While we to flames our slaughter'd friends 
bequeath, 

From the red field their scatter'd bodies 
Dear, 400 

And nigh the fleet a funeral structure 
rear: 

So decent urns their snowy bones may 
keep, 

And pious children o'er their ashes weep. 

Here, where on one promiscuous pile they 
blaz'd, 

High o'er them all a gen'ral tomb be 
rais'd ; 

Next, to secure our camp, and naval 
powers, 

Raise an embattled wall, with lofty towers; 

From space to space be ample gates 
around. 

For passing chariots, and a trench pro- 
found. 

So Greece to combat shall in safety go, 410 

Nor fear the fierce incursions of the foe.' 

'T was thus the sage his wholesome coun- 
sel mov'd; 

The sceptred Kings of Greece his words 
approv'd. 
Meanwhile, convened at Priam's palace 
gate, 

The Trojan peers in nightly council sate: 

A senate void of order, as of choice. 

Their hearts were fearful, and confused 
their voice. 

Antenor rising, thus demands their ear: 

* Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliars, hear! 

'T is Heav'n the counsel of my breast in- 
spires, 420 

And 1 but move what ev'ry God requires: 

Let Sparta's treasures be this hour re- 
stor'd. 

And Argive Helen own her ancient lord. 

The ties of faith, the sworn alliance 
broke 

Our impious battles the just Gods pro- 
voke. 

As this advice ye practise, or reject, 

So hope success, or dread the dire effect.' 



THE ILIAD 



339 



The senior spoke, and sat. To whom re- 
plied 

The graceful husband of the Spartan bride: 

* Cold counsels, Trojan, may become thy 
years, 430 

But sound ungrateful in a warrior's ears: 

Old man, if void of fallacy or art, 

Thy words express the purpose of thy 
heart. 

Thou, in thy time, more sound advice hast 
giv'u; 

But wisdom has its date, assign'd by 
Heav'n. 

Then hear me. Princes of the Trojan 
name! 

Their treasures I '11 restore, but not the 
dame ; 

My treasures, too, for peace I will resign; 

But be this bright possession ever mine.' 
'T was then, the growing discord to com- 
pose, 440 

Slow from his seat the rev'rend Priam 
rose: 

His godlike aspect deep attention drew: 

He paus'd, and these pacific words ensue: 

* Ye Trojans, Dardans, and auxiliar 

bands ! 

Now take refreshment as the hour de- 
mands; 

Guard well the walls, relieve the watch of 
night. 

Till the new sun restores the cheerful 
light: 

Then shall our herald, to th' Atrides sent. 

Before their ships proclaim my son's intent. 

Next let a truce be ask'd, that Troy may 
burn 450 

Her slaughter'd heroes, and their bones 
inurn; 

That done, once more the fate of war be tried. 

And whose the conquest, mighty Jove de- 
cide! ' 
The Monarch spoke: the warriors snatch'd 
with haste 

(Each at his post in arms) a short repast. 

Soon as the rosy morn had waked the day, 

To the black ships Idseus bent his way; 

There;, to the sons of Mars, in council 
fotmd. 

He rais'd his voice: the hosts stood lis- 
t'ning round: 

* Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Greeks, give 

ear ! 460 

The words of Troy, and Troy's great mon- 
arch, hear. 



Pleas'd may ye hear (so Hear'n succeed 
my prayers) 

What Paris, author of the war, declares. 

The spoils and treasures he to Ilion bore 

(O had he perish'd ere they touch'd our 
shore) 

He proffers injured Greece; with large in- 
crease 

Of added Trojan wealth, to buy the peace. 

But, to restore the beauteous bride again, 

This Greece demands, and Troy requests 
in vain. 

Next, O ye Chiefs! we ask a truce to 
burn 470 

Our slaughter'd heroes, and their bones 
inurn. 

That done, once more the fate of war be 
tried, 

And whose the conquest, mighty Jove de- 
cide! ' 
The Greeks give ear, but none the silence 
broke ; 

At length Tydides rose, and rising spoke: 

'O take not, friends! defrauded of your 
fame. 

Their proffer'd wealth, nor ev'n the Spar- 
tan dame. 

Let conquest make them ours: Fate shakes 
their wall. 

And Troy already totters to her fall.' 
Th' admiring Chiefs, and all the Grecian 
name, 480 

With gen'ral shouts return'd him loud ac- 
claim. 

Then thus the King of Kings rejects the 
peace: 

* Herald! in him thou hear'st the voice of 
Greece. 

For what remains, let funeral flames be 
fed 

With hero's corpse: I war not with the 
dead : 

Go, search your slaughter'd Chiefs on yon- 
der plain. 

And gratify the Manes of the slain. 

Be witness, Jove, whose thunder rolls on 
high ! ' 

He said, and rear'd his sceptre to the sky. 
To sacred Troy, where all her Princes 
lay 490 

To wait th' event, the herald bent his 
way. 

He came, and, standing in the midst, ex- 
plain'd ; 

The peace rejected, but the truce obtain'd, 



340 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Straight to their sev'ral cares the Trojans 

move; 
Some search the plain, some fell the sound- 
ing grove : 
Nor less the Greeks, descending on the 

shore, 
Hew'd the green forests, and the bodies 

bore. 
And now from forth the chambers of the 

main. 
To shed his sacred light on earth again. 
Arose the golden chariot of the day, 500 
And tipp'd the mountains with a purple 

ray. 
In mingled throngs the Greek and Trojan 

train 
Thro' heaps of carnage search'd the mourn- 
ful plain. 
Scarce could the friend his slaughter'd 

friend explore, 
With dust dishonour'd, and deform'd with 

gore. 
The wounds they wash'd, their pious tears 

they shed, 
And, laid along their cars, deplored the 

dead. 
Sage Priam check'd their grief: with silent 

haste 
The bodies decent on the piles were placed: 
With melting hearts the cold remains they 

burn'd; 510 

And sadly slow to sacred Troy return'd. 
Nor less the Greeks their pious sorrows 

shed, 
And decent on the pile dispose the dead; 
The cold remains consume with equal care; 
And slowly, sadly, to their fleet repair. 
Now, ere the morn had streak'd with red- 

d'ning light 
The doubtful confines of the day and night; 
About the dying flames the Greeks ap- 

pear'd. 
And round the pile a gen'ral tomb they 

rear'd. 
Then, to secure the camp and naval 

powers, 520 

They rais'd embattled walls with lofty 

towers: 
From space to space were ample gates 

around, 
For passing chariots; and a trench pro- 
found. 
Of large extent: and deep in earth below 
Strong piles infix'd stood adverse to the 

foe. 



So toil'd the Greeks: meanwhile the 

Gods above. 
In shining circle round their father Jove, 
Amazed beheld the wondrous works of man: 
Then he whose trident shakes the earth 

began : 
* What mortals henceforth shall our 

power adore, 530 

Our fanes frequent, our oracles implore. 
If the proud Grecians thus successful 

boast 
Their rising bulwarks on the sea-beat 

coast ? 
See the long walls extending to the main. 
No God consulted, and no victim slain! 
Their fame shall fill the world's remotest 

ends; 
Wide as the morn her golden beam ex- 
tends: 
While old Laomedon's divine abodes. 
Those radiant structures rais'd by lab'ring 

Gods, 
Shall, razed and lost, in long oblivion 

sleep.' 540 

Thus spoke the hoary monarch of the deep. 

Th' almighty Thund'rer with a frown 

replies. 
That clouds the world, and blackens half 

the skies: 
* Strong God of Ocean ! thou, whose rage 

can make 
The solid earth's eternal basis shake! 
What cause of fear from mortal works 

could move 
The meanest subject of our realms above ? 
Where'er the sun's refulgent rays are cast. 
Thy power is honour'd and thy fame shall 

last. 
But yon proud work no future age shall 

view, ^ 550 

No trace remain where once the glory grew. 
The sapp'd foundations by thy force shall 

fall, 
And, whelm'd beneath thy waves, drop 

the huge wall; 
Vast drifts of sand shall change the former 

shore; 
The ruin vanish'd, and the name no more.' 
Thus they in Heav'n: while o'er the 

Grecian train 
The rolling sun descending to the main 
Beheld the finish 'd work. Their bulls they 

slew; 
Black from the tents the sav'ry vapours 

flew. 



THE ILIAD 



341 



And now the fleet, arrived from Lemnos' 

strands, 560 

With Bacchus' blessings cheer'd the gen'- 

rous bands. 
Of fragrant wines the rich Eunseus sent 
A thousand measures to the royal tent 
(Eunaeus, whom Hypsipyle of yore 
To Jason, shepherd of his people, bore). 
The rest they purchas'd at their proper 

cost. 
And well the plenteous freight supplied 

the host: 
Each, in exchange, proportion'd treasures 

gave. 
Some brass, or iron, some an ox or slave. 
All night they feast, the Greek and Trojan 

powers; 570 

Those on the fields, and these within their 

towers. 
But Jove averse the signs of wrath dis- 

play'd. 
And shot red lightnings thro' the gloomy 

shade: 
Humbled they stood; pale horror seized 

on all, 
While the deep thunder shook th' aerial 

hall. 
Each pour'd to Jove, before the bowl was 

crown'd. 
And large libations drench'd the thirsty 

ground; 
Then late, refresh'd with sleep from toils 

of fight, 
Enjoy'd the balmy blessings of the night. 



BOOK VlII 

THE SECOND BATTLE, AND THE DISTRESS 
OF THE GREEKS 

THE ARGUMENT 

Jupiter assembles a council of the deities, and 
threatens them with the pains of Tartarus, 
if they assist either side : Minerva only ob- 
tains of him that she may direct the Greeks 
by her counsels. The armies join battle ; 
Jupiter on Mount Ida weighs in his balances 
the fates of both, and affrights the Greeks 
with his thunders and lightnings. Nestor 
alone continues in the field in great danger ; 
Diomed relieves him ; whose exploits, and 
those of Hector, are excellently described. 
Juno endeavours to animate Neptune to the 
assistance of the Greeks, but in vain. The 



acts of Teucer, who is at length wounded by 
Hector, and carried off. Juno and Minerva 
prepare to aid the Grecians, but are re- 
strained by Iris, sent from Jupiter. The 
night puts an end to the battle. Hector 
continues in the field (the Greeks being 
driven to their fortifications before the 
ships), and gives orders to keep the watch 
all night in the camp, to prevent the enemy 
from reembarking and escaping by flight. 
They kindle fires through all the field, and 
pass the night under arms. 
The time of seven-and-twenty days is employed 
from the opening of the poem to the end of 
this book. The scene here (except of the 
celestial machines) lies in the field toward 
the sea-shore. 

Aurora now, fair Daughter of the 

Dawn, 
Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn: 
When Jove convened the senate of the 

skies 
Where high Olympus' cloudy tops arise. 
The Sire of Gods his awful silence broke; 
The Heav'ns attentive trembled as he 

spoke : 
* Celestial states, immortal Gods! give 

ear. 
Hear our decree, and rev'rence what ye 

hear; 
The fix'd decree which not all Heav'n can 

move; 
Thou, Fate! fulfil it! and ye. Powers! ap- 



prove 



What God but enters yon forbidden field, 
Who yields assistance, or but wills to 

yield; 
Back to the skies with shame he shall be 

driv'n, 
Gash'd with dishonest wounds, the scorn of 

Heav'n : 
Or far, oh far from steep Olympus thrown, 
Low in the dark Tartarean gulf shall 

groan. 
With burning chains fix'd to the brazen 

floors. 
And lock'd by Hell's inexorable doors; 
As deep beneath th' infernal centre hurl'd, 
As from that centre to th' ethereal world. 2c 
Let him who tempts me, dread those dire 

abodes; 
And know, th' Almighty is the God of 

Gods. 
League all your forces then, ye Powers 

above. 
Join all, and try th' omnipotence of Jove-. 



342 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Let down our golden everlasting chain, 
Whose strong embrace holds Heav'n and 

Earth and Main: 
Strive all, of mortal and immortal birth, 
To drag, by this, the Thund'rer down to 

earth, 
Ye strive in vain ! if I but stretch this 

hand, 
I heave the Gods, the Ocean, and the Land ; 
I fix the chain to great Olympus' height, 31 
And the vast world hangs trembling in my 

sight ! 
For such I reign, unbounded and above; 
And such are men and Gods, compared to 

Jove.' 
Th' Almighty spoke, nor durst the 

Powers reply; 
A rev'rent horror silenc'd all the sky; 
Trembling they stood before their sov'- 

reign's look; 
At length his best belov'd, the Power of 

Wisdom, spoke: 
* Oh first and greatest! God, by Gods 

ador'd ! 
We own thy might, our father and our 

Lord ! 40 

But ah! permit to pity human state: 
If not to help, at least lament their fate. 
From fields forbidden we submiss refrain. 
With armsunaiding mourn our Argives slain; 
Yet grant my counsels still their breasts 

may move. 
Or all must perish in the wrath of Jove.' 
The cloud-compelling God her suit ap- 

prov'd. 
And smil'd superior on his best-belov'd. 
Then call'd his coursers, and his chariot 

took; 
The steadfast firmament beneath them 

shook: 50 

Rapt by th' ethereal steeds the chariot 

roll'd; 
Brass were their hoofs, their curling manes 

of gold. 
Of Heav'n's undrossy gold the God's array. 
Refulgent, flash'd intolerable day. 
High on the throne he shines: his coursers fly 
Between th' extended earth and starry sky. 
But when to Ida's topmost height he came 
(Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage 

game). 
Where, o'er her pointed summits proudly 

rais'd, 
His fane breathed odours, and his altar 

blazed: 60 



There, from his radiant car, the sacred Sire 

Of Gods and men released the steeds of 
fire: 

Blue ambient mists th' immortal steeds 
embraced; 

High on the cloudy point his seat he 
placed ; 

Thence his broad eye the subject world 
surveys. 

The town, and tents, and navigable seas. 
Now had the Grecians snatch 'd a short 
repast. 

And buckled on their shining arms with 
haste. 

Troy rous'd as soon; for on this dreadful 
day 

The fate of fathers, wives, and infants lay. 

The gates unfolding pour forth all their 
train; 71 

Squadrons on squadrons cloud the dusky 
plain : 

Men, steeds, and chariots, shake the trem- 
bling ground. 

The tumult thickens, and the skies re- 
sound. 

And now with shouts the shocking armies 
closed, 

To lances lances, shields to shields op- 
posed ; 

Host against host with shadowy legions 
drew. 

The sounding darts in iron tempests flew; 

Victors and vanquish'd join promiscuous 
cries. 

Triumphant shouts and dying groans arise; 

With streaming blood the slipp'ry fields are 
dyed, 81 

And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful 
tide. 

Long as the morning beams, increasing 
bright, 

O'er Heav'n's clear azure spread the sacred 
light, 

Commutual death the fate of war con- 
founds. 

Each adverse battle gored with equal 
wounds. 

But when the sun the height of Heav'n 
ascends, 

The Sire of Gods his golden scales sus- 
pends. 

With equal hand; in these explored the 
fate 

Of Greece and Troy, and pois'd the mighty 
weight. 90 



THE ILIAD 



343 



Press'd with its load, the Grecian balance 

lies 
Low sunk on earth, the Trojan strikes the 

skies. 
Then Jove from Ida's top his horrors 

spreads; 
The clouds burst dreadful o'er the Grecian 

heads; 
Thick lightnings flash; the mutt'ring 

thunder rolls; 
Their strength he withers, and unmans 

their souls. 
Before his wrath the trembling hosts retire, 
The Gods in terrors, and the skies on fire. 
Nor great Idomeneus that sight could 

bear. 
Nor each stern Ajax, thunderbolts of war; 
Nor he, the King of Men, th' alarm sus- 

tain'd ; loi 

Nestor alone amidst the storm remain'd. 
Unwilling he remain'd, for Paris' dart 
Had pierc'd his courser in a mortal part; 
Fix'd in the forehead where the springing 

mane 
Curl'd o'er the brow, it stung him to the 

brain; 
Mad with his anguish, he begins to rear, 
Paw with his hoofs aloft, and lash the 

air. 
Scarce had his falchion cut the reins, and 

freed 
Th' incumbent chariot from the dying 

steed, no 

When dreadful Hector, thund'ring thro' 

the war, 
Pour'd to the tumult on his whirling car. 
That day had stretch'd beneath his match- 
less hand 
The hoary Monarch of the Pylian band. 
But Diomed beheld; from forth the crowd 
He rush'd, and on Ulysses call'd aloud: 

' Whither, oh whither does Ulysses run ? 
O flight unworthy great Laertes' son! 
Mix'd with the vulgar shall thy fate be 

found, 
Pierc'd in the back, a vile, dishonest 

wound ? I20 

Oh turn and save from Hector's direful 

rage 
The glory of the Greeks, the Pylian sage.' 
His fruitless words are lost unheard in 

air; 
Ulysses seeks the ships, and shelters there. 
But bold Tydides to the rescue goes, 
A single warrior 'midst a host of foes; 



Before the coursers with a sudden spring 
He leap'd, and anxious thus bespoke the 

King: 
'Great perils. Father! wait th' unequal 

fight; 
These younger champions will oppress thy 

might. 130 

Thy veins no more with ancient vigour 

glow. 
Weak is thy servant, and thy coursers slow. 
Then haste, ascend my seat, and from the 

car 
Observe the steeds of Tros, renown'd in 

war, 
Practis'd alike to turn, to stop, to chase. 
To dare the fight, or urge the rapid race: 
These late obey'd Eneas' guiding rein; 
Leave thou thy chariot to our faithful 

train : 
With these against yon Trojans will we go, 
Nor shall great Hector want an equal foe; 
Fierce as he is, ev'n he may learn to fear 
The thirsty fury of my flying spear.' 142 
Thus said the Chief; and Nestor, skill'd 

in war. 
Approves his counsel, and ascends the car: 
The steeds he left, their trusty servants 

hold; 
Eurymedon, and Sthenelus the bold. 
The rev'rend charioteer directs the course. 
And strains his aged arm to lash the horse. 
Hector they face; unknowing how to fear, 
Fierce he drove on: Tydides whirl'd his 

spear. 150 

The spear with erring haste mistook its 

way, 
But plunged in Eniopeus' bosom lay. 
His opening hand in death forsakes the 

rein; 
The steeds fly back: he falls, and spurns 

the plain. 
Great Hector sorrows for his servant kill'd, 
Yet unrevenged permits to press the field; 
Till to supply his place and rule the car. 
Rose Archeptolemus, the fierce in war. 
And now had death and horror cover'd all; 
Like tim'rous flocks the Trojans in their 

wall 160 

Enclosed had bled: but Jove with awful 

sound 
Roll'd the big thunder o'er the vast pro- 
found: 
Full in Tydides' face the lightning flew; 
The ground before him flamed with sulphur 

blue: 



344 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The quiv'ring steeds fell prostrate at the 

sight; 
And Nestor's trembling hand confess'd his 

fright: 
He dropp'd the reins; and, shook with 

sacred dread, 
Thus, turning, warn'd th' intrepid Diomed: 

* O Chief ! too daring in thy friend's de- 

fence, 169 

Retire advised, and urge the chariot hence. 
This day, averse, the Sov'reign of the Skies 
Assists great Hector, and our palm denies. 
Some other sun may see the happier hour. 
When Greece shall conquer by his heav'nly 

power. 
'Tis not in man his fix'd decree to move: 
The great will glory to submit to Jove.' 

* O rev'rend Prince! ' (Tydides thus re- 

plies) 
' Thy years are awful, and thy words are 

wise. 
But ah, what grief! should haughty Hector 

boast, 
I fled inglorious to the guarded coast. 180 
Before that dire disgrace shall blast my 

fame, 
O'erwhelm me, earth! and hide a warrior's 

shame.' 
To whom Gerenian Nestor thus replied: 
* Gods ! can thy courage fear the Phrygian's 

pride ? 
Hector may vaunt, but who shall heed' 

the boast ? 
Not those who felt thy arm, the Dardan 

host. 
Nor Troy, yet bleeding in her heroes lost; 
Not ev'n a Phrygian dame, who dreads the 

sword 
That laid in dust her lov'd, lamented lord.' 
He said: and hasty o'er the gasping 

throng 190 

Drives the swift steeds; the chariot smokes 

along. 
The shouts of Trojans thicken in the wind ; 
The storm of hissing jav'lins pours behind. 
Then with a voice that shakes the solid 

skies, 
Pleas'd Hector braves the warrior as he 

flies: 
'Go, mighty Hero! graced above the rest 
In seats of council and the sumptuous 

feast: 
Now hope no more those honours from thy 

train ; 
Go, less than woman, in the form of man ! 



To scale our walls, to wrap our towers in 

flames, 200 

To lead in exile the fair Phrygian dames, 
Thy once proud hopes, presumptuous 

Prince! are fled; 
This arm shall reach thy heart, and stretch 

thee dead.' 
Now fears dissuade him, and now hopes 

invite, 
To stop his coursers, and to stand the 

fight; 
Thrice turn'd the Chief, and thrice imperial 

Jove 
On Ida's summit thunder'd from above. 
Great Hector heard; he saw the flashing 

light 
(The sign of conquest), and thus urged the 

fight: 
'Hear, ev'ry Trojan, Lycian, Dardan 

band, 210 

All famed in war, and dreadful hand to 

hand, 
Be mindful of the wreaths your arms have 

won. 
Your great forefathers' glories, and your 

own. 
Heard ye the voice of Jove ? Success and 

fame 
Await on Troy, on Greece eternal shame. 
In vain they skulk behind their boasted 

wall. 
Weak bulwarks! destin'd by this arm to 

fall. 
High o'er their slighted trench our steeds 

shall bound. 
And pass victorious o'er the levell'd 

mound. 
Soon as before yon hollow ships we stand. 
Fight each with flames, and toss the blazing 

brand; 221 

Till, their proud navy wrapt in smoke and 

fires. 
All Greece, encompass'd, in one blaze ex- 
pires.' 
Furious he said: then, bending o'er the 

yoke. 
Encouraged his proud steeds, while thus he 

spoke. 
'Now Xanthus, ^thon, Lampus! urge the 

chase. 
And thou, Podargus! prove thy gen'rous 

race: 
Be fleet, be fearless, this important day. 
And all your master's well-spent care re- 
pay. 



THE ILIAD 



345 



For this, high fed in plenteous stalls ye 

stand, 230 

Serv'd with pure wheat, and by a Princess' 

hand ; 
For this, my spouse, of great Eetion's 

line, 
So oft has steep'd the strength'ning grain 

in wine. 
Now swift pursue, now thunder uncon- 

troll'd; 
Give me to seize rich Nestor's shield of 

gold ; 
From Tydeus' shoulders strip the costly 

load, 
Vulcanian arms, the labour of a God: 
These if we gain, then victory, ye Powers! 
This night, this glorious night, the fleet is 

ours.' 
That heard, deep anguish stung Satur- 

nia's soul; 240 

She shook her throne that shook the starry 

pole: 
And thus to Neptune : ' Thou whose force 

can make 
The steadfast earth from her foundations 

shake, 
Seest thou the Greeks by Fates unjust op- 

press'd, 
Nor swells thy heart in that immortal 

breast ? 
Yet Mg?e, Helice, thy power obey, 
And gifts unceasing on thine altars lay. 
Would all the deities of Greece com- 
bine, 
In vain the gloomy Thund'rer might re- 
pine: 
Sole should he sit, with scarce a God to 

friend, 250 

And see his Trojans to the shades descend: 
Such be the scene from his Idfean bower: 
Ungrateful prospect to the sullen Power ! ' 
Neptune with wrath rejects the rash de- 
sign: 
* What rage, what madness, furious Queen ! 

is thine ? 
I war not with the highest. All above 
Submit and tremble at the hand of Jove.' 
Now godlike Hector, to whose matchless 

might 
Jove gave the glory of the destin'd 

fight, 
Squadrons on squadrons drives, and fills 

the fields 260 

With close-ranged chariots, and with thick- 

en'd shields. 



Where the deep trench in length extended 
lay, 

Compacted troops stand wedg'd in firm 
array, 

A dreadful front! they shake the bands, 
and threat 

With long-destroyingflamesthe hostile fleet. 

The King of men, by Juno's self inspired, 

Toil'd thro' the tents, and all his army 
fired. 

Swift as he mov'd, he lifted in his hand 

His purple robe, bright ensign of com- 
mand. 

High on the midmost bark the King ap- 
pear'd; 270 

There, from Ulysses' deck, his voice was 
heard: 

To Ajax and Achilles reach'd the sound. 

Whose distant ships the guarded navy 
bound. 

*0h Argives! shame of human race!' he 
cried 

(The hollow vessels to his voice replied), 

' Where now are all your glorious boasts of 
yore. 

Your hasty triumphs on the Lemnian shore ? 

Each fearless hero dares a hundred foes. 

While the feast lasts, and while the goblet 
flows; 

But who to meet one martial man is found. 

When the fight rages, and the flames sur- 
round ? 281 

O mighty Jove! oh Sire of the distress'd! 

Was ever King like me, like me oppress'd ? 

With power immense, with justice arm'd 
in vain; 

My glory ravish'd, and my people slain! 

To thee my vows were breathed from ev'ry 
shore ; 

What altar smoked not with our victims' 
gore ? 

With fat of bulls I fed the constant flame, 

And ask'd destruction to the Trojan name. 

Now, gracious God! far humbler our de-^ 
mand ; 290 

Give these at least to 'scape from Hec- 
tor's hand, 

And save the relics of the Grecian land ! ' ^ 
Thus pray'd the King, and Heav'n's 
great Father heard 

His vows, in bitterness of soul preferr'd; 

The wrath appeas'd by happy signs de- 
clares, 

And gives the people to their Monarch's 
prayers. 



346 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



His eagle, sacred bird of Heav'n! he sent, 
A fawn his talons truss'd (divine portent), 
High o'er the wond'ring hosts he soar'd 

above. 
Who paid their vows to Panomphsean Jove; 
Then let the prey before his altar fall: 301 
The Greeks beheld, and transport seiz'd on 

all: 
Encouraged by the sign, the troops revive, 
And fierce on Troy with double fury drive. 
Tydides first, of all the Grecian force. 
O'er the broad ditch impell'd his foaming 

horse, 
Pierc'd the deep ranks, their strongest bat- 
tle tore. 
And dyed his jav'lin red with Trojan gore. 
Young Agelaiis (Phradmon was his sire) 
With flying coursers shunn'd his dreadful 
ire: 310 

Struck thro' the back the Phrygian fell op- 

press'd; 
The dart drove on, and issued at his breast: 
Headlong he quits the car; his arms re- 
sound ; 
His pond'rous buckler thunders on the 

ground. 
Forth rush a tide of Greeks, the passage 

freed; 
Th' Atridae first, th' Ajaces next succeed: 
Meriones, like Mars in arms renown'd. 
And godlike Idomen, now pass'd the 

mound; 
Evsemon's son next issues to the foe. 
And last, young Teucer with his bended 
bow. 320 

Secure behind tbe Telamonian shield 
The skilful archer wide survey'd the field. 
With ev'ry shaft some hostile victim slew. 
Then close beneath the sev'n-fold orb with- 
drew: 
The conscious infant so, when fear alarms. 
Retires for safety to the mother's arms. 
Thus Ajax guards his brother in the field, 
Moves as he moves, and turns the shining 

shield. 
Who first by Teucer's mortal arrows bled ? 
Orsilochus; then fell Ormenus dead: 330 
The godlike Lycophon next press'd the 

plain, 
With Chromius, Dsetor, Ophelestes slain: 
Bold Hamopaon breathless sunk to ground; 
The bloody pile great Melanippus crown'd. 
Heaps fell on heaps, sad trophies of his 

art, 
A Trojan ghost attending every dart. 



Great Agamemnon views with joyful eye 
The ranks grow thinner as his arrows 

fly: 
' Oh youth, for ever dear ' (the Monarch 

cried), 
'Thus, always thus, thy early worth be 

tried ; 340 

Thy brave example shall retrieve our host. 
Thy country's saviour, and thy father's 

boast! 
Sprung from an alien's bed thy sire to 

grace. 
The vig'rous offspring of a stol'n embrace. 
Proud of his boy, he owu'd the gen'rous 

flame. 
And the brave son repays his cares with 

fame. 
Now hear a Monarch's vow: If Heav'n's 

high Powers 
Give me to raze Troy's long-defended 

towers; 
Whatever treasures Greece for me design, 
The next rich honorary gift be thine: 350 
Some golden tripod, or distinguish'd car. 
With coursers dreadful in the ranks of 

war; 
Or some fair captive whom thy eyes ap- 
prove. 
Shall recompense the warrior's toils with 

love.' 
To this the Chief: ' With praise the rest 

inspire. 
Nor urge a soul already fill'd with fire. 
What strength I have, be now in battle 

tried, 
Till ev'ry shaft in Phrygian blood be 

dyed. 
Since, rallying, from our wall we forced 

the foe, 
Still aim'd at Hector have I bent my 

bow; 360 

Eight forky arrows from this hand have 

fled, 
And eight bold heroes by their points lie 

dead: 
But sure some God denies me to destroy 
This fury of the field, this dog of Troy.' 
He said, and twang'd the string. The 

weapon flies 
At Hector's breast, and sings along the 

skies: 
He miss'd the mark; but pierc'd Gor- 

gythio's heart 
And drench'd in royal blood the thirsty 

dart 



THE ILIAD 



347 



(Fair Castianira, nyraph of form divine, 
This offspring added to King Priam's 

line). 370 

As full-blown poppies overcharged with 

rain 
Decline the head, and drooping kiss the 

plain ; 
So sinks the youth: his beauteous head, 

depress'd 
Beneath his helmet, drops upon his breast. 
Another shaft the raging archer drew: 
That other shaft with erring fury flew 
(From Hector Phcebus turn'd the flying 

wound), 
Yet fell not dry or guiltless to the ground: 
Thy breast, brave Archeptolemus! it tore, 
And dipp'd its feathers in no vulgar 

gore. 380 

Headlong he falls: his sudden fall alarms 
The steeds, that startle at his sounding 

arms. 
Hector with grief his charioteer beheld 
All pale and breathless on the sanguine 

field. 
Then bids Cebriones direct the rein. 
Quits his bright car, and issues on the 

plain. 
Dreadful he shouts: from earth a stone he 

took, 
And rush'd on Teucer with a lifted rock. 
The youth already strain'd the forceful yew; 
The shaft already to his shoulder drew; 390 
The feather in his hand, just wing'd for 

flight, 
Touch'd where the neck and hollow chest 

unite; 
There, where the juncture knits the chan- 
nel bone, 
The furious Chief discharged the craggy 

stone ; 
The bow-string burst beneath the pon- 

d'rous blow, 
And his numb'd hand dismiss'd his useless 

bow. 
He fell; but Ajax his broad shield dis- 
played. 
And screen'd his brother with a mighty 

shade; 
Till great Alastor and Mecistheus bore 
The batter'd archer groaning to the 

shore. 400 

Troy yet found grace before th' Olym- 
pian sire; 
He arm'd their hands, and fill'd their 

breasts with fire. 



The Greeks, repuls'd, retreat behind their 

wall, 
Or in the trench on heaps confusedly fall. 
First of the foe, great Hector march'd 

along. 
With terror clothed, and more than mortal 

strong. 
As the bold hound that gives the lion 

chase. 
With beating bosom, and with eager pace. 
Hangs on his haunch, or fastens on his 

heels. 
Guards as he turns, and circles as he 

wheels; 410 

Thus oft the Grecians turn'd, but still they 

flew; 
Thus following. Hector still the hindmost 

slew. 
When, flying, they had pass'd the trench 

profound, 
And many a Chief lay gasping on the 

ground; 
Before the ships a desp'rate stand they 

made; 
And fired the troops, and call'd the Gods 

to aid. 
Fierce on his rattling chariot Hector came ; 
His eyes like Gorgon shot a sanguine 

flame 
That wither'd all their host: like Mars he 

stood. 
Dire as the monster, dreadful as the 

God! 420 

Their strong distress the wife of Jove sur- 

vey'd; 
Then pensive thus to War's triumphant 

Maid: 
' Oh, Daughter of that God, whose arm 

can wield 
Th* avenging bolt, and shake the sable 

shield! 
Now, in this moment of her last despair. 
Shall wretched Greece no more confess 

our care, 
Condemn'd to suffer the full force of Fate, 
And drain the dregs of Heav'n's relentless 

hate? 
Gods! shall one raging hand thus level 

all? 
What numbers fell! what numbers yet 

shall fall! 430 

What Power divine shall Hector's wrath 

assuage ? 
Still swells the slaughter, and still grows 

the rage ! ' 



348 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



So spoke th' imperial Regent of the 

Skies ; 
To whom the Goddess with the azure eyes: 
* Long since had Hector staiu'd these fields 

with gore, 
Stretch'd by some Argive on his native 

shore : 
But he above, the Sire of Heav'n, with- 
stands, 
Mocks our attempts, and slights our just 

demands. 
The stubborn God, inflexible and hard. 
Forgets my service and deserv'd re- 
ward ; 440 
Saved I, for this, his fav'rite son distress'd. 
By stern Eurystheus with long labours 

press'd ? 
He begg'd, with tears he begg'd, in deep 

dismay ; 
I shot from Heav'n, and gave his arm the 

day. 
Oh had my wisdom known this dire event, 
When to grim Pluto's gloomy gates he 

went; 
The triple dog had never felt his chain. 
Nor Styx been cross'd, nor Hell explor'd 

in vain. 
Averse to me of all his Heav'n of Gods, 
At Thetis' suit the partial Thund'rer 

nods. 450 

To grace her gloomy, fierce, resenting son, 
My hopes are frustrate, and my Greeks 

undone. 
Some future day, perhaps, he may be 

raov'd 
To call his Blue-eyed Maid his best-be- 

lov'd. 
Haste, launch thy chariot, thro' yon ranks 

to ride; 
Myself will arm, and thunder at thy side. 
Then, Goddess! say, shall Hector glory 

then 
(That terror of the Greeks, that Man of 

men). 
When Juno's self, and Pallas shall appear. 
All dreadful in the crimson walks of 

war ? 460 

What m ighty Tro j an then, on yonder shore. 
Expiring, pale, and terrible no more. 
Shall feast the fowls, and glut the dogs 

with gore ? ' 
She ceas'd, and Juno rein'd the steeds 

with care 
(Heav'n's awful Empress, Saturn's other 

heir) : 



Pallas, meanwhile, her various veil un- 
bound. 
With flowers adorn'd, with art immortal 

crowu'd; 
The radiant robe her sacred fingers wove 
Floats in rich waves, and spreads the court 

of Jove. 
Her father's arms her mighty limbs in- 
vest, 470 
His cuirass blazes on her ample breast. 
The vig'rous Power the trembling car 

ascends ; 
Shook by her arm, the massy jav'lin bends; 
Huge, pond'rous, strong ! that, when her 

fury burns. 
Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts 

o'erturns. 
Saturnia lends the lash; the coursers fly; 
Smooth glides the chariot thro' the liquid 

sky. 
Heav'n's gates spontaneous open to the 

Powers, 
Heav'n's golden gates, kept by the winged 

Hours: 
Commission'd in alternate watch they 

stand, 480 

The sun's bright portals and the skies com- 
mand; 
Close or unfold th' eternal gates of day. 
Bar Heav'n with clouds, or roll those clouds 

away: 
The sounding hinges ring, the clouds 

divide ; 
Prone down the steep of Heav'n their 

course they guide. 
But Jove, incens'd, from Ida's top survey'd. 
And thus enjoin'd the many-colour'd Maid : 
'Thaumantia! mount the winds, and 

stop their car; 
Against the highest who shall wage the 

war? 
If furious yet they dare the vain debate, 490 
Thus have I spoke, and what I speak is 

Fate. 
Their coursers crush'd beneath the wheels 

shall lie. 
Their car in fragments scatter'd o'er the 

My lightning these rebellious shall con- 
found, 

And hurl them flaming, headlong to the 
ground, 

Condemn'd for ten revolving years to weep 

The wounds impress'd by burning Thunder 
deep. 



THE ILIAD 



349 



So shall Minerva learn to fear our ire, 
Nor dare to combat hers and Nature's 

Sire. 
For Juno, headstrong and imperious still, 500 
She claims some title to transgress our 

will.' 
Swift as the wind, the various-colour'd 

Maid 
From Ida's top her golden wings display 'd; 
To great Olympus' shining gates she flies. 
There meets the chariot rushing down the 

skies. 
Restrains their progress from the bright 

abodes, 
And speaks the mandate of the Sire of 

Gods: 

* What frenzy, Goddesses ! what rage 

can move 
Celestial minds to tempt the wrath of 

Jove? 
Desist, obedient to his high command; 510 
This is his word: and know his word shall 

stand. 
His lightning your rebellion shall confound, 
And hurl ye headlong, flaming to the 

ground : 
Your horses crush'd beneath the wheels 

shall lie. 
Your car in fragments scatter'd o'er the 

sky; 
Yourselves condemn'd ten rolling years to 

weep 
The wounds impress'd by burning Thunder 

deep. 
So shall Minerva learn to fear his ire, 
Nor dare to combat hers and Nature's 

Sire. 
For Juno, headstrong and imperious 

still, 520 

She claims some title to transgress his 

will: 
But thee what desp'rate insolence has 

driv'n, 
To lift thy lance against the King of 

Heav'n ? ' 
Then, mounting on the pinions of the 

wind. 
She flew; and Juno thus her rage resign 'd: 

* O Daughter of that God, whose arm 

can wield 
Th* avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful 

shield! 
No more let beings of superior birth 
Contend with Jove for this low race of 

earth : 



Triumphant now, now miserably slain, 530 
They breathe or perish as the Fates ordain. 
But Jove's high counsels full eftect shall 

find, 
And, ever constant, ever rule mankind.' 
She spoke, and backward turn'd her 

steeds of light, 
Adorn'd with manes of gold, and heav'uly 

bright. 
The Hours uuloos'd them, panting as they 

stood, 
And heap'd their mangers with ambrosial 

food. 
There tied, they rest in high celestial stalls; 
The chariot propp'd against the crystal 

walls. 
The pensive Goddesses, abash'd, controll'd, 
Mix with the Gods, and fill their seats of 

gold. 541 

And now the Thund'rer meditates his 

flight 
From Ida's summits to th' Olympian 

height. 
Swifter than thought the wheels instinctive 

fly, 

Flame thro' the vast of air, and reach the sky. 

'T was Neptune's charge his coursers to 
unbrace, 

And fix the car on its immortal base; 

There stood the chariot, b'eaming forth its 
rays, 

Till with a snowy veil he screen'd the 
blaze. 

He, whose all-conscious eyes the world be- 
hold, 550 

Th' eternal Thunderer, sat throned in gold. 

High Heav'n the footstool of his feet he 
makes. 

And wide beneath him all Olympus shakes. 

Trembling afar th' offending Powers ap- 
pear'd, 

Confused and silent, for his frown they 
fear'd. 

He saw their soul, and thus his word im- 
parts: 

* Pallas and Juno! say, why heave your 
hearts ? 

Soon was your battle o'er: proud Troy re- 
tired 

Before your face, and in your wrath ex- 
pired. 

But know, whoe'er almighty Power with- 
stand! 560 

Unmatch'd our force, unconquer'd is our 
hand: 



350 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Who shall the Sov'reign of the Skies con- 
trol ? 
Not all the Gods that crown the starry pole. 
Your hearts shall tremble, if our arms we 

take, 
And each immortal nerve with horror 

shake. 
For thus I speak, and what I speak shall 

stand. 
What Power soe'er provokes our lifted 

hand, 
On this our hill no more shall hold his 

place, 
Cut off, and exil'd from th' ethereal race.' 

Juno and Pallas grieving hear the doom, 
But feast their souls on Ilion's woes to 

come. 571 

Tho' secret anger swell'd Minerva's breast. 
The prudent Goddess yet her wrath re- 

press'd: 
But Juno, impotent of rage, replies: 
' What hast thou said, oh Tyrant of the 

Skies! 
Strength and omnipotence invest thy 

throne ; 
'T is thine to punish; ours to grieve alone. 
For Greece we grieve, abandon'd by her 

Fate 
To drink the .dregs of thy unmeasured 

hate : 579 

From fields forbidden we submiss refrain, 
With arms unaiding see our Argives slain; 
Yet grant our counsels still their breasts 

may move. 
Lest all should perish in the rage of Jove.' 
The Goddess thus: and thus the God re- 
plies; 
Who swells the clouds, and blackens all the 

skies: 
* The morning sun, awaked by loud alarms. 
Shall see th' almighty Thunderer in arms. 
What heaps of Argives then shall load the 

plain. 
Those radiant eyes shall view, and view in 

vaino 
Nor shall great Hector cease the rage of 

fight, ^ 590 

The navy flaming, and thy Greeks in flight, 
Ev'n till the day, when certain Fates ordain " 
That stern Achilles (his Patroclus slain) 
Shall rise in vengeance, and lay waste the 

plain. 
For such is Fate, nor canst thou turn its 

course 
With all thy rage, with all thy rebel force. 



Fly, if thou wilt, to earth's remotest bound, 
Where on her utmost verge the seas re- 
sound; 
Where curs'd lapetus and Saturn dwell, 
Fast by the brink, within the steams of 

Hell; 600 

No sun e'er gilds the gloomy horrors there, 
No cheerful gales refresh the lazy air: 
There arm once more the bold Titanian 

band, 
And arm in vain: for what I will shall 

stand.' 
Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of 

light, 
And drew behind the cloudy veil of night: 
The conquering Trojans mourn his beams 

decay'd ; 
The Greeks rejoicing bless the friendly 

shade. 
The victors keep the field; and Hector 

calls 
A martial council near the navy walls: 610 
These to Scamander's bank apart he led, 
Where thinly scatter'd lay the heaps of 

dead. 
Th' assembled Chiefs, descending on the 

ground, 
Attend his order, and their Prince sur- 
round. 
A massy spear he bore of mighty strength, 
Of full ten cubits was the lance's length; 
The point was brass, refulgent to behold, 
Fix'd to the wood with circling rings of 

gold: 
The noble Hector on this lance reclin'd, 
And, bending forward, thus reveal'd his 

mind: 620 

* Ye valiant Trojans, with attention hear! 

Ye Dardan bands, and gen'rous aids, give 

ear! 
This day, we hoped, would wrap in con- 
quering flame 
Greece with her ships, and crown our toils 

with fame: 
But darkness now, to save the cowards, 

falls. 
And guards them trembling in their wooden 

walls. 
Obey the night, and use her peaceful hours 
Our steeds to forage, and refresh our 

powers. 
Straight from the town be sheep and oxen 

sought, 
And strength'ning bread and gen'rous wine 

be brought. 630 



THE ILIAD 



351 



Wide o'er the field, high blazing to the sky, 
Let numerous tires the absent sun supply, 
The flaming piles with plenteous fuel raise, 
Till the bright morn her purple beam dis- 

plays: 
Lest in the silence and the shades of night, 
Greece on her sable ships attempt her 

flight. 
Not unmolested let the wretches gain 
Their lofty decks, or safely cleave the 

main: 
Some hostile wound let ev'ry dart bestow, 
Some lasting token of the Phrygian foe, 640 
Wounds, that long hence may ask their 

spouses' care, 
And warn their children from a Trojan war. 
Now thro' the circuit of our Ilion wall, 
Let sacred heralds sound the solemn call; 
To bid the sires with hoary honours 

crown'd. 
And beardless youths, our battlements sur- 
round. 
Firm be the guard, while distant lie our 

powers. 
And let the matrons hang with lights the 

towers: 
Lest, under covert of the midnight shade, 
Th' insidious foe the naked town invade. 650 
Suffice, to-night, these orders to obey; 
A nobler charge shall rouse the dawning 

day. 
The Gods, I trust, shall give to Hector's 

hand. 
From these detested foes to free the land. 
Who plough'd, with Fates averse, the 

wat'ry way; 
For Trojan vultures a predestin'd prey. 
Our common safety must be now the care; 
But, soon as morning paints the fields of 

air. 
Sheathed in bright arms let every troop 

engage, 
And the fired fleet behold the battle rage. 
Then, then shall Hector and Tydides 

prove, 661 

Whose Fates are heaviest in the scale of 

Jove. 
To-morrow's light (oh haste the glorious 

morn!) 
Shall see his bloody spoils in triumph 

borne ; 
With this keen jav'lin shall his breast be 

gored. 
And prostrate heroes bleed around their 

lord. 



Certain as this, oh! might my days endure, 

From age inglorious, and black death, se- 
cure; 

So might my life and glory know no 
bound. 

Like Pallas worshipp'd, like the sun re- 
nown'd, 670 

As the next dawn, the last they shall enjoy. 

Shall crush the Greeks, and end the woes 
of Troy.* 
The leader spoke. From all his hosts 
around 

Shouts of applause along the shores re- 
sound. 

Each from the yoke the smoking steeds 
untied. 

And fix'd their headstalls to his chariot- 
side. 

Fat sheep and oxen from the town are led, 

With gen'rous wine, and all-sustaining 
bread. 

Full hecatombs lay burning on the shore; 

The winds to Heav'n the curling vapours 
bore. 680 

Ungrateful off 'ring to th' immortal Powers! 

Whose wrath hung heavy o'er the Trojan 
towers; 

Nor Priam nor his sons obtain'd their 
grace ; 

Proud Troy they hated, and her guilty 
race. 
The troops exulting sat in order round. 

And beaming fires illumin'd all the 
ground. 

As when the moon, refulgent lamp of 
night. 

O'er Heav'n's clear azure spreads her sa- 
cred light. 

When not a breath disturbs the deep se- 
rene. 

And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn 
scene ; 690 

Around her throne the vivid planets roll, 

And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing 
pole. 

O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure 
shed. 

And tip with silver ev'ry mountain's head; 

Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect 
rise, 

A flood of glory bursts from all the skies: 

The conscious swains, rejoicing in the 
sight. 

Eye the blue vault and bless the useful 
light. 



352 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



So many flames before proud Ilion blaze, 
And lighten glimm'riug Xanthus with 

their rays: 700 

The long reflections of the distant fires 
Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the 

spires. 
A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild, 
And shoot a shady lustre o'er the field. 
Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend, 
Whose umber'd arms, by fits, thick flashes 

send. 
Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps 

of corn, 
And ardent warriors wait the rising morn. 



BOOK IX 

THE EMBASSY TO ACHILLES 
THE ARGUMENT 

Agamemnon, after the last day's defeat, pro- 
poses to the Greeks to quit the siege, and re- 
turn to their country. Diomed opposes this, 
and Nestor seconds him, praising his wisdom 
and resolution. He orders the guard to be 
strengthened, and a council summoned to de- 
liberate what measures were to be followed in 
this emergency. Agamemnon pursues this 
advice, and Nestor farther prevails upon him 
to send ambassadors to Achilles, in order to 
move him to a reconciliation. Ulysses and 
Ajax are made choice of, who are accom- 
panied by old Phoenix. They make, each 
of them, very moving and pressing speeches, 
but are rejected with roughness by Achillea, 
who notwithstanding retains Phoenix in his 
tent. The ambassadors return unsuccess- 
fully to the camp, and the troops betake 
themselves to sleep. 

This book, and the next following, take up the 
space of one night, which is the twenty - 
seventh from tbe beginning of the poem. 
The scene lies on the sea-shore, the station of 
the Grecian ships. 

Thus joyful Troy maintain'd the watch 

of night: 
While Fear, pale comrade of inglorious 

Flight, 
And heav'n-bred Horror, on the Grecian 

part, 
Sat on each face, and sadden'd ev'ry 

heart. 
As from its cloudy dungeon issuing forth, 
A double tempest of the west and north 



Swells o'er the sea, from Thracia's frozen 

shore, 
Heaps waves on waves, and bids th' Mgean. 

roar; 
This way and that the boiling deeps are 

toss'd ; 
Such various passions urged the troubled 
host. 10 

Great Agamemnon griev'd above the rest; 
Superior sorrows swell'd his royal breast; 
Himself his orders to the heralds bears, 
To bid to council all the Grecian peers. 
But bid in whispers: these surround their 

Chief, 
In solemn sadness and majestic grief. 
The King amidst the mournful circle rose; 
Down his wan cheek a briny torrent flows: 
So silent fountains, from a rock's tall head, 
In sable streams soft-trickling waters 
shed. 20 

With more than vulgar grief he stood op- 

press'd; 
Words, mix'd with sighs, thus bursting 
from his breast: 
* Ye sons of Greece ! partake your leader's 
care. 
Fellows in arms, and Princes of the war! 
Of partial Jove too justly we complain. 
And heav'nly oracles believ'd in vain. 
A safe return was promis'd to our toils 
With conquest honour'd, and enrich'd with 

spoils : 
Now shameful flight alone can save the 

host, 
Our wealth, our people, and our glory, 
lost. 30 

So Jove decrees, almighty Lord of all! 
Jove, at whose nod whole empires rise or 

fall. 
Who shakes the feeble props of human 

trust, 
And towers and armies humbles to the 

dust. 
Haste then, for ever quit these fatal fields, 
Haste to the joys our native country yields; 
Spread all your canvas, all your oars 

employ. 
Nor hope the fall of Heav'n - defended 
Troy.' 
He said; deep silence held the Grecian 
band; 
Silent, unmov'd, in dire dismay they 
stand, 40 

A pensive scene! till Tydeus* warlike son 
RoU'd on the King his eyes, and thus begun; 



THE ILIAD 



353 



'When Kiugs advise us to renounce our 

fame, 
First let him speak, who first has suffer'd 

shame. 
If I oppose thee, Prince! thy wrath with- 
hold; 
The laws of council bid my tongue be 

bold. 
Thou first, and thou alone, in fields of 

fight. 
Durst brand my courage, and defame my 

might; 
Nor from a friend th' unkind reproach ap- 

pear'd, 
The Greeks stood witness, all our army 

heard. 50 

The Gods, O Chief ! from whom our 

honours spring, 
The Gods have made thee but by halves a 

King: 
They gave thee sceptres and a wide com- 
mand. 
They gave dominion o'er the seas and 

land; 
The noblest power that might the world 

control 
They gave thee not — a brave and virtuous 

soul. 
Is this a gen'ral's voice, that would sug- 
gest 
Fears like his own in ev'ry Grecian breast ? 
Confiding in our want of worth he stands. 
And if we fly, 't is what our King com- 
mands. 60 
Go thou, inglorious ! from th' embattled 

plain. 
Ships thou hast, store, and nearest to the 

main; 
A nobler care the Grecians shall employ. 
To combat, conquer, and extirpate Troy. 
Here Greece shall stay; or, if all Greece 

retire, 
Myself will stay, till Troy or I expire; 
Myself, and Sthenelus, will fight for 

fame; 
God bade us fight, and 't was with God we 

came.' 
He ceas'd ; the Greeks loud acclamations 

raise. 
And voice to voice resounds Tydides' 

praise. 70 

Wise Nestor then his rev'rend figure 

rear'd ; 
He spoke : the host in still attention 

heard: 



• O truly great! in whom tlie Gods have 

join'd 
Such strength of body with such force of 

mind ; 
In conduct, as in courage, you excel. 
Still first to act what you advise so well. 
Those wholesome counsels which thy wis- 
dom moves. 
Applauding Greece, with common voice, 

approves. 
Kings thou canst blame; a bold, but prudent 

youth ; 
And blame ev'n Kings with praise, because 

with truth. 80 

And yet those fears that since thy birth 

have run, 
Would hardly style thee Nestor's youngest 

son. 
Then let me add what yet remains behind, 
A thought unfinish'd in that gen'rous mind; 
Age bids me speak; nor shall th' advice I 

bring 
Distaste the people, or offend the King: 
'Curs'd is the man, and void of law and 

right, 
Unworthy property, unworthy light. 
Unfit for public rule, or private care, 
That wretch, that monster, that delights in 

war : qo 

Whose lust is murder, and whose horrid 

To tear his country, and his kind destroy! 
This night refresh and fortify thy train; 
Between the trench and wall let guards 

remain : 
Be that the duty of the young and bold; 
But thou, O King, to council call the old : 
Great is thy sway, and weighty are thy 

cares; 
Thy high commands must spirit all our 

wars: 
With Thracian wines recruit thy honour'd 

guests. 
For happy counsels flow from sober feasts. 
Wise, weighty counsels aid a state dis- 

tress'd loi 

And such a monarch as can choose the 

best. 
See! what a blaze from hostile tents aspires. 
How near our fleet approach the Trojan 

fires! 
Who can, unmov'd, behold the dreadful 

light ? 
What eye beholds them, and can close to- 
night ? 



354 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



This dreadful interval determines all ; 
To-morrow, Troy must flame, or Greece 

must fall.' 
Thus spoke the hoary Sage: the rest 

obey; 
Swift thro' the gates the guards direct 

their way. no 

His son was first to pass the lofty mound, 
The gen'rous Thrasymed, in arms re- 
no wn'd: 
Next him Ascalaphus, lalmen, stood, 
The double offspring of the Warrior-God. 
Deipyrus, Aphareus, Merion join. 
And Lycomed, of Creon's noble line. 
Sev'u were the leaders of the nightly 

bands, 
And each bold Chief a hundred spears 

commands. 
The fires they light, to short repasts they 

fall, 
Some line the trench, and others man the 

wall. 120 

The King of Men, on public counsels 

bent, 
Convened the Princes in his ample tent; 
Each seiz'd a portion of the kingly feast, 
But stay'd his hand when thirst and hunger 

ceas'd. 
Then Nestor spoke, for wisdom long ap- 

prov'd. 
And, slowly rising, thus the council mov'd: 
* Monarch of nations! whose superior sway 
Assembled states and lords of earth obey. 
The laws and sceptres to thy hand are giv'n. 
And millions own the care of thee and 

Heav'n. 130 

King! the counsels of my age attend; 
With thee my cares begin, with thee must 

end; 
Thee, Prince! it fits alike to speak and 

hear. 
Pronounce with judgment, with regard 

give ear. 
To see no wholesome motion be withstood, 
And ratify the best for public good. 
Nor, tho' a meaner give advice, repine. 
But follow it, and make the wisdom thine. 
Hear then a thought, not now conceiv'd in 

haste, 
At once my present judgment, and my 

past: 140 

When from Pelides' tent you forced the 

Maid, 

1 first opposed, and, faithful, durst dis- 

suade; 



But, bold of soul, when headlong fury fired. 
You wrong'd the man, by men and Gods 

admired: 
Now seek some means his fatal wrath to 

end. 
With prayers to move him, or with gifts to 

bend.' 
To whom the King: * With justice hast 

thou shewn 
A Prince's faults, and I with reason own. 
That happy man whom Jove still honours 

most. 
Is more than armies, and himself a host. 150 
Bless'd in his love, this wondrous Hero 

stands; 
Heav'n fights his war, and humbles all our 

bands. 
Fain would my heart, which err'd thro' 

frantic rage. 
The wrathful Chief and angry Gods as- 
suage. 
If gifts immense his mighty soul can bow. 
Hear, all ye Greeks, and witness what I 

vow: 
Ten weighty talents of the purest gold, 
And twice ten vases of refulgent mould ; 
Sev'n sacred tripods, whose unsullied 

frame 
Yet knows no office, nor has felt the 

flame: 160 

Twelve steeds unmatch'd in fleetness and 

in force. 
And still victorious in the dusty course 
(Rich were the man whose ample stores 

exceed 
The prizes purchas'd by their winged 

speed): 
Sev'n lovely captives of the Lesbian line, 
Skill' d in each art, unmatch'd in form 

divine, 
The same I chose for more than vulgar 

charms. 
When Lesbos sunk beneath the hero's 

arms: 
All these, to buy his friendship, shall be 

paid. 
And join'd with these the long-contested 

maid; 170 

With all her charms, Briseis I resign, 
And solemn swear those charms were never 

mine; 
Untouch'd she staid, uninjured she re- 
moves. 
Pure from my arms, and guiltless of my 

loves. 



THE ILIAD 



355 



These instant shall be his; and if the 

Powers 
Give to our arms proud Ilion's hostile 

towers, 
Then shall he store (when Greece the spoil 

divides) 
With gold and brass his loaded navy's 

sides. 
Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan 

race 
With copious love shall crown his warm 

embrace ; i8o 

Such as himself will choose; who yield to 

none. 
Or yield to Helen's heav'nly charms alone. 
Yet hear me farther; when our wars are 

^ o'er, 
If safe we land on Argos' fruitful shore. 
There shall he live my sou, our honours 

share, 
And with Orestes' self divide my care. 
Yet more — three daughters in my court 

are bred. 
And each well worthy of a royal bed, 
Laodice and Iphigenia fair, 
And bright Chrysothemis with golden 

hair: 190 

Her let him choose whom most his eyes 

approve, 
I ask no presents, no reward for love; 
Myself will give the dower; so vast a 

store. 
As never father gave a child before. 
Sev'n ample cities shall confess his sway, 
Him Enopd, and Pherfe him obey, 
Cardamyl^ with ample turrets crown'd, 
And sacred Pedasus for vines renown'd; 
iEpea fair, the pastures Hira yields. 
And rich Antheia with her flowery fields : 
The whole extent to Pylos' sandy plain, 201 
Along the verdant margin of the main. 
There heifers graze, and lab'ring oxen toil; 
Bold are the men, and gen'rous is the 

soil; 
There shall he reign with power and jus- 
tice crown'd. 
And rule the tributary realms around. 
All this I give, his vengeance to control, 
And sure all this may move his mighty 

soul. 
Pluto, the grisly God, who never spares, 
Who feels no mercy, and who hears no 

prayers, 210 

Lives dark and dreadful in deep Hell's 

abodes, 



And mortals hate him as the worst of 

Gods. 
Great tho' he be, it fits him to obey: 
Since more than his my years, and more 

my sway.' 
The Monarch thus: the rev'rend Nestor 

then : 
* Great Agamemnon! glorious King of Men! 
Such are thy offers as a Prince may take, 
And such as fits a gen'rous King to make. 
Let chosen delegates this hour be sent 
(Myself will name them) to Pelides' 

tent: 320 

Let Phcenix lead, revered for hoary age, 
Great Ajax next, and Ithacus the sage. 
Yet more to sanctify the word you send. 
Let Hodius and Eurybates attend. 
Now pray to Jove to grant what Greece 

demands; 
Pray, in deep silence, and with purest 

hands.' 
He said, and all approv'd. The heralds 

bring 
The cleansing water from the living spring, 
The youth with wine the sacred goblets 

crown'd. 
And large libations drench'd the sands 

around. 230 

The rite perform'd, the Chiefs their thirst 

allay. 
Then from the royal tent they take their 

way; 
Wise Nestor turns on each his careful eye. 
Forbids t' offend, instructs them to apply: 
Much he advised them all, Ulysses most. 
To deprecate the Chief, and save the host. 
Thro' the still night they march, and hear 

the roar 
Of murm'ring billows on the sounding 

shore. 
To Neptune, ruler of the seas profound. 
Whose liquid arms the mighty globe sur- 
round, 240 
They pour forth vows, their embassy to 

bless. 
And calm the rage of stern iEacides. 
And now arrived, where, on the sandy bay 
The Myrmidonian tents and vessels lay. 
Amused at ease, the godlike man they 

found, 
Pleas'd with the solemn harp's harmonious 

sound 
(The well-wrought harp from conquer'd 

Thebfe came. 
Of polish'd silver was its costly frame) ; 



35^ 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



With this he soothes his angry soul, and 

sings 
Th' immortal deeds of heroes and of 

Kings. 250 

Patroclus only of the royal train, 
Placed in his tent, attends the lofty strain: 
Full opposite he sat, and listen'd long 
In silence waiting till he ceas'd the song. 
Unseen the Grecian embassy proceeds 
To his high tent; the great Ulysses leads. 
Achilles starting, as the Chiefs he spied, 
Leap'd from his seat, and laid the harp 

aside. 
With like surprise arose Menoetius' son: 
Pelides grasp'd their hands, and thus 

begun : 260 

* Princes, all hail! whatever brought you 

here, 
Or strong necessity, or urgent fear; 
Welcome, tho' Greeks! for not as foes ye 

came; 
To me more dear than all that bear the 

name.' 
With that, the Chiefs beneath his roof he 

led, 
And placed in seats with purple carpets 

spread. 
Then thus: * Patroclus, crown a larger bowl. 
Mix purer wine, and open every soul. 
Of all the warriors yonder host can send, 
Thy friend most honours these, and these 

thy friend.' 270 

He said: Patroclus, o'er the blazing fire 
Heaps in a brazen vase three chines entire: 
The brazen vase Automedon sustains. 
Which flesh of porket, sheep, and goat 

contains: 
Achilles at the genial feast presides. 
The parts transfixes, and with skill divides. 
Meanwhile Patroclus sweats the fire to 

raise; 
The tent is brighten'd with the rising 

blaze : 
Then, when the languid flames at length 

subside, 279 

He strews a bed of glowing embers wide, 
Above the coals the smoking fragments 

turns. 
And sprinkles sacred salt from lifted urns ; 
With bread the glitt'ring canisters they 

load. 
Which round the board Menoetius' son be- 

stow'd: 
Himself, opposed t' Ulysses full in sight, 
Each portion parts, and orders every rite. 



The first fat oflf'rings, to th' immortals due, 
Amidst the greedy flames Patroclus threw; 
Then each indulging in the social feast, 289 
His thirst and hunger soberly repress'd. 
That done, to Phoenix Ajax gave the sign; 
Not unperceiv'd; Ulysses crown'd with 

wine 
The foaming bowl, and instant thus began, 
His speech addressing to the godlike man: 
* Health to Achilles! happy are thy 

guests! 
Not those more honour'd whom Atrides 

feasts: 
Tho' gen'rous plenty crown thy loaded 

boards. 
That, Agamemnon's regal tent affords; 
But greater cares sit heavy on our souls, 
Not eased by banquets or by flowing 

bowls. 300 

What scenes of slaughter in yon fields ap- 
pear! 
The dead we mourn, and for the living 

fear; 
Greece on the brink of fate all doubtful 

stands. 
And owns no help but from thy saving 

hands: 
Troy and her aids for ready vengeance 

call; 
Their threat'ning tents already shade our 

wall: 
Hear how with shouts their conquest they 

proclaim. 
And point at ev'ry ship their vengeful 

flame! 
For them the Father of the Gods declares. 
Theirs are his omens, and his Thunder 

theirs. 310 

See, full of Jove, avenging Hector rise! 
See! Heav'n and Earth the raging Chief 

defies; 
What fury in his breast, what lightning 

in his eyes! 
He waits but for the morn, to sink in flame 
The ships, the Greeks, and all the Grecian 

name. 
Heav'ns! how my country's woes distract 

my mind. 
Lest Fate accomplish all his rage design'd. 
And must we, Gods! our heads inglorious 

lay 
In Trojan dust, and this the fatal day ? 
Return, Achilles! oh return, tho' late, 320 
To save thy Greeks, and stop the course of 

Fate; 



THE ILIAD 



357 



If in that heart or grief or courage lies, 
Rise to redeem; ah yet, to conquer, rise! 
The day may come, when, all our warriors 

slain, 
That heart shall melt, that courage rise in 

vain. 
Regard in time, O Prince divinely brave! 
Those wholesome counsels which thy father 

gave. 
When Peleus in his aged arms embraced 
His parting son, these accents were his 

last: 
" My child! with strength, with glory and 

success, 330 

Thy arms may Juno and Minerva bless! 
Trust that to Heav'n: but thou thy cares 

engage 
To calm thy passions, and subdue thy rage: 
From gentler manners let thy glory grow. 
And shun contention, the sure source of 

woe; 
That young and old may in thy praise com- 
bine, 
The virtues of humanity be thine." 
This now despised advice thy father gave; 
Ah! check thy anger, and be truly brave. 
If thou wilt yield to great Atrides' prayers, 
Gifts worthy thee his royal hand prepares; 
If not but hear me, while I number 

o'er 342 

The proffer'd presents, an exhaustless 

store. 
Ten weighty talents of the purest gold, 
And twice ten vases of refulgent mould ; 
Sev'n sacred tripods, whose unsullied 

frame 
Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame : 
Twelve steeds uumatch'd in fleetuess and 

in force. 
And still victorious in the dusty course 
(Rich were the man whose ample stores 

exceed 350 

The prizes purchas'd by their winged 

speed): 
Sev'n lovely captives of the Lesbian line, 
Skill'd in each art, unmatch'd in form 

divine, 
The same he chose for more than vulgar 

charms, 
When Lesbos sunk beneath thy conquering 

arms; 
All these, to buy thy friendship, shall be 

paid, 
And join'd with these the long-contested 

maid; 



With all her charms, Briseis he '11 resign. 
And solemn swear those charms were only 

thine; 
Untouch'd she stay'd, uninjured she re- 
moves, 360 
Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his 

loves. 
These instant shall be thine: and if the 

Powers 
Give to our arms proud Ilion's hostile 

towers, 
Then shalt thou store (when Greece the 

spoil divides) 
With gold and brass thy loaded navy's 

sides. 
Besides, full twenty nymphs of Trojan race 
With copious love shall crown thy warm 

embrace ; 
Such as thyself shalt choose ; who yield to 

none. 
Or yield to Helen's heav'nly charms alone. 
Yet hear me farther: when our wars are 

o'er, 370 

If safe we land on Argos' fruitful shore, 
There shalt thou live his son, his honours 

share. 
And with Orestes' self divide his care. 
Yet more — three daughters in his court 

are bred. 
And each well worthy of a royal bed ; 
Laodice and Iphigenia fair. 
And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair; 
Her shalt thou wed whom most thy eyes 

approve ; 
He asks no presents, no reward for love: 
Himself will give the dower: so vast a 

store, 380 

As never father gave a child before. 
Sev'n ample cities shall confess thy sway. 
Thee Enope", and Pherse thee obey, 
Cardamyle with ample turrets crown'd. 
And sacred Pedasus, for vines renown'd: 
^pea fair, the pastures Hira yields. 
And rich Antheia with her flowery fields: 
The whole extent to Pylos' sandy plain 
Along the verdant margin of the main. 
There heifers graze, and lab'ring oxen 

toil; 390 

Bold are the men, and gen'rous is the soil. 
There shalt thou reign with power and 

justice crown'd, 
And rule the tributary realms around. 
Such are the proffers which this day we 

bring, 
Such the repentance of a suppliant King. 



35S 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



But if all this, relentless, thou disdain, 

If honour and if interest plead in vain; 

Yet some redress to suppliant Greece af- 
ford, 

And be, amongst her guardian Gods, ador'd. 

If no regard thy suff'ring country claim, 400 

Hear thy own glory, and the voice of 
Fame: 

For now that Chief, whose unresisted ire 

Made nations tremble, and whole hosts re- 
tire, 

Proud Hector, now, th' unequal fight de- 
mands. 

And only triumphs to deserve thy hands.* 
Then thus the Goddess- born: 'Ulysses, 
hear 

A faithful speech, that knows nor art nor 
fear; 

What in my secret soul is understood. 

My tongue shall utter, and my deeds make 
good. 

Let Greece then know, my purpose I re- 
tain, 410 

Nor with new treaties vex my peace in 
vain. 

Who dares think one thing, and another 
tell, 

My heart detests him as the gates of Hell. 
* Then thus in short my fix'd resolves at- 
tend. 

Which nor Atrides, nor his Greeks, can 
bend: 

Long toils, long perils, in their cause I 
bore; 

But now th' unfruitful glories charm no 
more. 

Fight or not fight, a like reward we claim, 

The wretch and hero find their prize the 
same. 

Alike regretted in the dust he lies, 420 

Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies. 

Of all my dangers, all my glorious pains, 

A life of labours, lo! what fruit remains ? 

As the bold bird her helpless young at- 
tends. 

From danger guards them, and from want 
defends; 

In search of prey she wings the spacious 
air. 

And with th' untasted food supplies her 
care : 

For thankless Greece such hardships have 
I braved, 

Her wives, her infants, by my labours 
saved; 



Long sleepless nights in heavy arms I 

stood, 430 

And sweat laborious days in dust and 

blood. 
I sack'd twelve ample cities on the main. 
And twelve lay smoking on the Trojan 

plain: 
Then at Atrides' haughty feet were laid 
The wealth I gather'd, and the spoils I 

made. 
Your mighty monarch these in peace pos- 

sess'd; 
Some few my soldiers had, himself the 

rest. 
Some present too to ev'ry Prince was paid; 
And ev'ry Prince enjoys the gift he made; 
I only must refund of all his train ; 440 

See what preeminence our merits gain! 
My spoil alone his greedy soul delights; 
My spouse alone must bless his lustful 

nights: 
The woman, let him (as he may) enjoy; 
But what 's the quarrel then of Greece to 

Troy ? 
What to these shores th' assembled nations 

draws. 
What calls for vengeance but a woman's 

cause ? 
Are fair endowments and a beauteous face 
Belov'd by none but those of Atreus' race ? 
The wife whom choice and passion both ap- 
prove, 450 
Sure ev'ry wise and worthy man will love. 
Nor did my fair one less distinction claim; 
Slave as she was, my soul ador'd the 

dame. 
Wrong'd in my love, all proffers I disdain; 
Deceiv'd for once, I trust not Kings again. 
Ye have my answer. What remains to 

do, 
Your King, Ulysses, may consult with you. 
What needs he the defence this arm can 

make ? 
Has he not walls no human force can 

shake ? 
Has he not fenc'd his guarded navy round 
With piles, with ramparts, and a trench 

profound ? 461 

And will not these (the wonders he has 

done) 
Repel the rage of Priam's single son ? 
There was a time ('t was when for Greece 

I fought) 
When Hector's prowess no such wonders 

wrought; 



THE ILIAD 



359 



He kept the verge of Troy, nor dared to "" 
wait 

Achilles' fury at the Sesean gate; 

He tried it once, and scarce was saved by 
Fate. 

But now those ancient enmities are o'er; 

To-morrow we the fav'ring Gods implore; 

Then shall you see our parting vessels 
crown'd, 471 

And hear with oars the Hellespont resound. 

The third day hence, shall Phthia greet our 
sails. 

If mighty Neptune send propitious gales; 

Phthia to her Achilles shall restore 

The wealth he left for this detested shore: 

Thither the spoils of this long war shall pass. 

The ruddy gold, the steel, and shining 
brass ; 

My beauteous captives thither I '11 convey. 

And all that rests of my unravish'd prey, 480 

One only valued gift your tyrant gave, 

And that resumed; the fair Lyrnessian 
slave. 

Then tell him, loud, that all the Greeks 
may hear. 

And learn to scorn the wretch they basely 
fear 

(For, arm'd in impudence, mankind he 
braves. 

And meditates new cheats on all his slaves; 

Tho', shameless as he is, to face these eyes 

Is what he dares not; if he dares, he dies); 

Tell him, all terms, all commerce I decline. 

Nor share his council, nor his battle join; 

For once deceiv'd, was his; but twice, 
were mine. 491 

No — let the stupid Prince, whom Jove de- 
prives 

Of sense and justice, run where frenzy 
drives; 

His gifts are hateful: Kings of such a kind 

Stand but as slaves before a noble mind. 

Not tho' he profPer'd all himself possess'd, 

And all his rapine could from others wrest: 

Not all the golden tides of wealth that 
crown 

The many-peopled Orehomenian town; 

Not all proud Thebes' unrivall'd walls con- 
tain, 500 

The world's great Empress on th* Egyptian 
plain 

(That spreads her conquests o'er a thou- 
sand states, 

And pours her Heroes thro' a hundred 
gates. 



Two hundred horsemen and two hundred 
cars 

From each wide portal issuing to the wars) ; 

Tho' bribes were heap'd on bribes, in num- 
ber more 

Than dust in fields, or sands along the 
shore; 

Should all these offers for my friendship call ; 

'T is he that offers, and I scorn them all. 

Atrides' daughter never shall be led 510 

(An ill-match'd consort) to Achilles' bed; 

Like golden Venus tho' she charm'd the 
heart. 

And vied with Pallas in the works of art 

Some greater Greek let those high nuptials 
grace, 

I hate alliance with a tyrant's race. 

If Heav'n restore me to my realms with 
life, 

The rev'rend Peleus shall elect my wife ; 

Thessalian nymphs there are, of form di- 
vine. 

And Kings that sue to mix their blood with 
mine. 

Bless'd in kind love, my years shall glide 
away, 520 

Content with just hereditary sway; 

There, deaf forever to the martial strife, 

Enjoy the dear prerogative of life. 

Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold ; 

Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold, 

Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of 
sway, 

Can bribe the poor possession of a day! 

Lost herds and treasures we by arms re- 
gain, 

And steeds unrivall'd on the dusty plain: 

But from our lips the vital spirit fled, 530 

Returns no more to wake the silent dead. 

My Fates long since by Thetis were dis- 
closed. 

And each alternate. Life or Fame, pro- 
posed: 

Here if I stay, before the Trojan town, 

Short is my date, but deathless my renown; 

If I return, I quit immortal praise 

For years on years, and long-extended 
d^ys. 

Convinc'd, tho' late, I find my fond mis- 
take, 

And warn the Greeks the wiser choice to 
make; 

To quit these shores, their native seats en- 
joy, 540 

Nor hope the fall of Heav'n-def ended Troy. 



360 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Jove's arm display'd asserts her from the 

skies; 
Her hearts are strengthen'd, and her glo- 
ries rise. 
Go then, to Greece report our fix'd design: 
Bid all your councils, all your armies join, 
Let all your forces, all your arts conspire. 
To save the ships, the troops, the Chiefs, 

from fire. 
One stratagem has fail'd, and others will: 
Ye find Achilles is uuconquer'd still. 
Go then: digest my message as ye may: 
But here this night let rev'rend Phcenix 
stay: _ _ 551 

His tedious toils and hoary hairs demand 
A peaceful death in Phthia's friendly land. 
But whether he remain, or sail with me, 
His age be sacred, and his will be free.' 
The son of Peleus ceas'd: the Chiefs 
around 
In silence wrapp'd, in consternation 

drown'd, 
Attend the stern reply. Then Phcenix 

rose 
(Down his white beard a stream of sorrow 

flows), 
And while the fate of suff'ring Greece he 
mourn'd, 560 

With accent weak these tender words re- 
turn 'd: 
' Divine Achilles! wilt thou then retire, 
And leave our hosts in blood, our fleets on 

fire? 
If wrath so dreadful fill thy ruthless mind, 
How shall thy friend, thy Phoenix, stay be- 
hind ? 
The royal Peleus, when from Phthia's coast 
He sent thee early to th' Achaian host; 
Thy youth as then in sage debates un- 

skill'd, 
And new to perils of the direful field; 
He bade me teach thee all the ways of 

. ^^.^' . . 570 

To shine in councils, and in camps to dare. 

Never, ah never, let me leave thy side! 

No time shall part us, and no Fate divide. 

Not tho' the God, that breathed my life, 

restore • 

The bloom I boasted, and the port I bore, 
When Greece of old beheld my youthful 

flames 
(Delightful Greece, the land of lovely 

dames). 
My father, faithless to my mother's arms, 
Old as he was, ador'd a stranger's charms. 



I tried what youth could do (at her desire) 
To win the damsel, and prevent my sire. 581 
My sire with curses loads my hated head. 
And cries, "Ye Furies! barren be his bed." 
Infernal Jove, the vengeful fiends below. 
And ruthless Proserpine, confirm'd his 

vow. 
Despair and grief attract my lab'ring 

mind; 
Gods! what a crime my impious heart de- 

sign'd ! 
I thought (but some kind God that thought 

suppress'd) 
To plunge the poniard in my father's breast: 
Then meditate my flight; my friends in 

vain 590 

With prayers entreat me, and with force 

detain. 
On fat of rams, black bulls, and brawny 

swine. 
They daily feast, with draughts of fragrant 

wine : 
Strong guards they placed, and watch' d 

nine nights entire: 
The roofs and porches flamed with constant 

fire. 
The tenth, I forc'd the gates, unseen of 

all: 
And, favour'd by the night, o'erleap'd the 

wall. 
My travels thence thro' spacious Greece 

extend : 
In Phthia's court at last my labours end. 
Your sire receiv'd me, as his son caress'd. 
With gifts enrich'd, and with possessions 

bless'd. 6ci 

The strong Dolopians thenceforth own'd 

my reign, 
And all the coast that runs along the main. 
By love to thee his bounties I repaid, 
And early wisdom to thy soul convey 'd: 
Great as thou art, ray lessons made thee 

brave, 
A child I took thee, but a hero gave. 
Thy infant breast a like affection shew'd: 
Still in my arms (an ever-pleasing load). 
Or at my knee, by Phcenix wouldst thou 

stand; 610 

No food was grateful but from Phcenix' 

hand. 
I pass my watchings o'er thy helpless years, 
The tender labours, the compliant cares; 
The Gods (I thought) revers'd their hard 

decree. 
And Phcenix felt a father's joys in thee : 



THE ILIAD 



361 



Thy growing virtues justified my cares, 
And promis'd comfort to my silver hairs. 
Now be thy rage, thy fatal rage, resigii'd; 
A cruel heart ill suits a manly mind: 619 
The Gods (the only great, and only wise) 
Are mov'd by off 'rings, vows, and sacrifice; 
Offending man their high compassion wins, 
And daily prayers atone for daily sins. 
Prayers are Jove's daughters, of celestial 

race. 
Lame are their feet, and wrinkled is their 

face; 
With humble mien, and with dejected eyes. 
Constant they follow where Injustice flies: 
Injustice, swift, erect, and unconfin'd, 
Sweeps the wide earth, and tramples o'er 

mankind, > 

While Prayers, to heal her wrongs, move 

slow behind. 630 J 

Who hears these daughters of almighty 

Jove, 
For him they mediate to the throne above: 
When man rejects the humble suit they 

make. 
The sire revenges for the daughters' sake ; 
From Jove commission'd, fierce Injustice 

then 
Descends, to punish unrelenting men. 
Oh let not headlong passion bear the sway; 
These reconciling Goddesses obey: 
Due honours to the seed of Jove belong; 
Due honours calm the fierce and bend the 

strong. 640 

Were these not paid thee by the terms we 

bring. 
Were rage still harbour'd in the haughty 

King, 
Nor Greece, nor all her fortunes, should 

engage 
Thy friend to plead against so just a rage. 
But since what honour asks, the Gen'ral 

sends. 
And sends by those whom most thy heart 

commends, 
The best and noblest of the Grecian train; 
Permit not these to sue, and sue in vain! 
Let me (my son) an ancient fact unfold, 
A great example drawn from times of old; 
Hear what our fathers were, and what 

their praise, 651 

Who conquer'd their revenge in former days. 

* Where Calydon on rocky mountains 

stands. 
Once fought th' iEtolian and Curetian 

bands; 



To guard it those, to conquer these, ad- 
vance ; 
And mutual deaths were dealt with mutual 

chance. 
The silver Cynthia bade Contention rise. 
In vengeance of neglected sacrifice; 
On CEneus' fields she sent a monstrous 

boar. 
That levell'd harvests and whole forests 

tore : 660 

This beast (when many a Chief his tusks 

had slain) 
Great Meleager stretch'd along the plain. 
Then, for his spoils, a new debate arose, 
The neighbour nations thence commencing 

foes. 
Strong as they were, the bold .Curetes 

fail'd, 
While Meleager's thund'ring arm pre- 

vail'd: 
Till rage at length inflamed his lofty breast 
(For rage invades the wisest and the best). 
Curs'd by Althsea, to his wrath he yields, 
And, in his wife's embrace, forgets the 

fields. 670 

* (She from Marpessa sprung, divinely 

fair. 
And matchless Idas, more than man in 

war; 
The God of Day adored the mother's 

charms; 
Against the God the father bent his arms: 
Th' afflicted pair, their sorrows to pro- 
claim. 
From Cleopatra changed this daughter's 

name. 
And call'd Alcyone; a name to shew 
The father's grief, the mourning mother's 

woe.) 
To her the Chief retired from stern debate, 
But found no peace from fierce Althsea's 

hate : 680 

Althaea's hate th' unhappy warrior drew, 
Whose luckless hand his royal uncle slew; 
She beat the ground, and call'd the Powers 

beneath 
On her own son to wreak her brother's 

death : 
Hell heard her curses from the realms pro- 
found. 
And the red fiends that walk'd the nightly 

round. 
In vain iEtolia her deliv'rer waits, 
War shakes her walls, and thunders at her 

gates. 



362 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



She sent ambassadors, a chosen band, 

Priests of the Gods, and elders of the 
land, 690 

Besought the Chief to save the sinking 
state: 

Their prayers were urgent, and their 
proffers great; 

(Full fifty acres of the richest ground, 

Half pasture green, and half with vineyards 
crown'd). 

His suppliant father, aged CEneus, came ; 

His sisters follow'd: ev'n the vengeful 
dame 

Althaea sues; his friends before him fall: 

He stands relentless, and rejects them all. 

Meanwhile the victors' shouts ascend the 
skies ; 

The walls are scaled; the rolling flames 
arise ; 700 

At length his wife (a form divine) appears. 

With piercing cries, and supplicating tears; 

She paints the horrors of a conquer'd 
town. 

The heroes slain, the palaces o'erthrown, 

The matrons ravish'd, the whole race en- 
slaved: 

The warrior heard, he vanquish'd, and he 
saved. 

Th' ^tolians, long disdain'd, now took 
their turn. 

And left the Chief their broken faith to 
mourn. 

Learn hence, betimes to curb pernicious 
ire, 

Nor stay, till yonder fleets ascend in fire: 

Accept the presents; draw thy conquering 
sword; 711 

And be amongst our guardian Gods 
ador'd.' 
Thus he : the stern Achilles thus re- 
plied: 

*My second father, and my rev'rend guide! 

Thy friend, believe me, no such gifts de- 
mands. 

And asks no honours from a mortal's 
hands: 

Jove honours me, and favours my designs: 

His pleasure guides me, and his will con- 
fines: 

And here I stay (if such his high behest) 

While life's warm spirit beats within my 
breast. 720 

Yet hear one word, and lodge it in thy 
heart ; 

No more molest me on Atrides' part: 



Is it for him these tears are taught to 

flow. 
For him these sorrows ? for my mortal 

foe? 
A gen'rous friendship no cold medium 

knows. 
Burns with one love, with one resentment 

glows; 
One should our int'rests, and our passions, 

be; 
My friend must hate the man that injures 

me. 
Do this, my Phoenix, 't is a gen'rous part. 
And share my realms, my honours, and my 

heart. 730 

Let these return: our voyage, or our stay, 
Rest undetermin'd till the dawning day.' 
He ceas'd: then order'd for the sage's 

bed 
A warmer couch with numerous carpets 

spread. 
With that, stern Ajax his long silence 

broke. 
And thus, impatient, to Ulysses spoke: 
* Hence let us go — why waste we time in 

vain ? 
See what effect our low submissions gain! 
Liked or not liked, his words we must re- 
late. 
The Greeks expect them, and our heroes 

wait. 740 

Proud as he is, that iron heart retains 
Its stubborn purpose, and his friends dis- 
dains. 
Stern, and unpitying! if a brother bleed. 
On just atonement, we remit the deed; 
A sire the slaughter of his son forgives; 
The price of blood discharged, the mur- 

d'rer lives: 
The haughtiest hearts at length their rage 

resign. 
And gifts can conquer ev'ry soul but thine: 
The Gods that unrelenting breast have 

steel'd. 
And curs'd thee with a mind that cannot 

yield. 750 

One woman-slave was ravish'd from thy 

arms: 
Lo, sev'n are offer'd, and of equal charms. 
Then hear, Achilles! be of better mind; 
Revere thy roof, and to thy guests be kind; 
And know the men, of all the Grecian 

host 
Who honour worth, and prize thy valour 

most.' 



THE ILIAD 



363 



'Oh Soul of Battles, and thy people's 

guide ! ' 
(To Ajax thus the first of Greeks replied) 
• Well hast thou spoke; but at the tyrant's 

name 759 

My rage rekindles and my soul's on flame; 
'T is just resentment, and becomes the 

brave; 
Disgraced, dishonour'd, like the vilest 

slave ! 
Return then, Heroes! and our answer bear. 
The glorious combat is no more my care; 
Not till amidst yon sinking navy slain, 
The blood of Greeks shall dye the sable 

main; 
Not till the flames, by Hector's fury 

thrown. 
Consume your vessels, and approach my 

own; 
Just there, th' impetuous homicide shall 

stand, 
There cease his battle, and there feel our 

hand.' 770 

This said, each Prince a double goblet 

crown'd. 
And cast a large libation on the ground : 
Then to their vessels, thro' the gloomy 

shades, 
The Chiefs return; divine Ulysses leads. 
Meantime Achilles' slaves prepared a bed, 
With fleeces, carpets, and soft linen spread: 
There, till the sacred morn restor'd the 

day. 
In slumbers sweet the rev'rend Phoenix lay. 
But in his inner tent, an ampler space, ^ 
Achilles slept : and in his warm embrace > 
Fair Diomede of the Lesbian race. 781 J 
Last, for Patroclus was the couch prepared, 
Whose nightly joys the beauteous Iphis 

shared: 
Achilles to his friend conslgn'd her charms, 
When Scyros fell before his conquering 

arms. 
And now th' elected Chiefs, whom 

Greece had sent, 
Pass'd thro' the hosts, and reach'd the 

royal tent. 
Then rising all, with goblets in their hands. 
The peers, and leaders of th' Achaian 

bands, 
Hail'd their return: Atrides first begun: 790 
' Say, what success ? divine Laertes' 

son! 
Achilles' high resolves declare to all: 
Returns the Chief, or must our navy fall ? ' 



'Great King of Nations!' (Ithacus re- 
plied) 

*Fix'd is his wrath, unconquer'd is his 
pride; 

He slights thy friendship, thy proposals 
scorns. 

And, thus implor'd, with fiercer fury 
burns. 

To save our army, and our fleets to free. 

Is not his care; but left to Greece and 
thee. 

Your eyes shall view, when morning paints 
the sky, 800 

Beneath his oars the whitening billows 

fly. 

Us too he bids our oars and sails employ. 
Nor hope the fall of Heav'n-protected 

Troy; 
For Jove o'ershades her with his arm 

divine. 
Inspires her war, and bids her glory shine. 
Such was his word: what farther he de- 
clared, 
These sacred heralds and great Ajax heard. 
But Phoenix in his tent the Chief retains. 
Safe to transport him to his native plains, 
When morning dawns ; if other he decree. 
His age is sacred, and his choice is free.' 811 

Ulysses ceas'd: the great Achaian host. 
With sorrow seiz'd, in consternation lost. 
Attend the stern reply. Tydides broke 
The gen'ral silence, and undaunted spoke: 
♦ Why should we gifts to proud Achilles 

send ? 
Or strive with prayers his haughty soul to 

bend ? 
His country's woes he glories to deride. 
And prayers will burst that swelling heart 

with pride. 
Be the fierce impulse of his rage obey'd; 820 
Our battles let him or desert or aid ; 
Then let him arm when Jove or he think 

fit; 
That, to his madness, or to Heav'n, com- 
mit: 
What for ourselves we can, is always ours: 
This night, let due repast refresh our 

powers; 
(For strength consists in spirits and in 

blood. 
And those are owed to gen'rous wine and 

food); 
But when the rosy Messenger of Day 
Strikes the blue mountains with her golden 
ray, 



3^4 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Ranged at the ships let all our squadrons 
shine, 830 

In flaming arms, a long extended line: 

In the dread front let great Atrides stand. 

The first in danger, as in high command.' 
Shouts of acclaim the list'ning heroes 
raise, 

Then each to Heav'n the due libations 
pays; 

Till sleep, descending o'er the tents, be- 
stows 

The grateful blessings of desired repose. 



BOOK X 

THE NIGHT ADVENTURE OF DIOMEDE AND 
ULYSSES 

THE AKGUMENT 

Upon the refusal of Achilles to return to the . 
army, the distress of Ag'ameninon is described 
in the most lively manner. He takes no rest 
that night, but passes through the camp, 
awaking the leaders, and contriving all possi- 
ble methods for the public safety. Menelaus, 
Nestor, Ulysses, and Diomede, are employed 
in raising the rest of the captains. They call 
a council of war, and determine to send 
scouts into the enemy's camp, to learn their 
posture, and discover their intentions. Dio- 
mede undertakes this hazardous enterprise, 
and makes choice of Ulysses for his com- 
panion. In their passage they surprise Dolon, 
whom Hector had sent on a like design to the 
camp of the Grecians. From him they are 
informed of the situation of the Trojan and 
auxiliary forces, and particularly of Khesus, 
and the Thracians, who were lately arrived. 
They pass on with success ; kill Rhesus with 
several of his officers, and seize the famous 
horses of that Prince, with which they return 
in triumph to the camp. 

The same night continues; the scene lies in 
the two camps. 

All night the Chiefs before their vessels 

lay, 
And lost in sleep the labours of the day: 
All but the King; with various thoughts 

oppress'd, 
His country's cares lay rolling in his 

breast. 
As when by lightnings Jove's ethereal 

Power 
Foretells the rattling hail, or weighty 

shower, 



Or sends soft snows to whiten all the shore, 
Or bids the brazen throat of war to roar; 
By fits one flash succeeds as one expires, 
And Heav'n flames thick with momentary 
fires: 10 

So bursting frequent from Atrides' breast. 
Sighs foll'wing sighs his inward fears con- 

fess'd. 
Now, o'er the fields, dejected, he surveys 
From thousand Trojan fires the mounting 

blaze; 
Hears in the passing wind their music blow. 
And marks distinct the voices of the foe. 
Now, looking backwards to the fleet and 

coast. 
Anxious he sorrows for th' endanger'd host. 
He rends his hairs, in sacrifice to Jove, 
And sues to him that ever lives above: 20 
Inly he groans ; while glory and despair 
Divide his heart, and wage a doubtful war. 
A thousand cares his lab'ring breast re- 
volves; 
To seek sage Nestor now the Chief re- 
solves, 
With him, in wholesome counsels, to debate 
What yet remains to save th' afflicted state. 
He rose, and first he cast his mantle round. 
Next on his feet the shining sandals bound; 
A lion's yellow spoils his back conceal'd; 
His warlike hand a pointed jav'lin held. 30 
Meanwhile his brother, press'd with equal 

woes. 
Alike denied the gift of soft repose. 
Laments for Greece; that in his cause be- 
fore 
So much had suffer'd, and must sufPer more. 
A leopard's spotted hide his shoulders 

spread ; 
A brazen helmet glitter'd on his head: 
Thus (with a jav'lin in his hand) he went 
To wake Atrides in the royal tent. 
Already waked, Atrides he descried 
His armour buckling at his vessel's side. 40 
Joyful they met; the Spartan thus begun: 
* Why puts my brother this bright armour 

on? 
Sends he some spy, amidst these silent 

hours, 
To try yon camp, and watch the Trojan 

powers ? 
But say, what hero shall sustain the task ? 
Such bold exploits uncommon courage ask, 
Guideless, alone, thro' night's dark shade to 

go, 
And 'midst a hostile camp explore the foe.' 



THE ILIAD 



365 



To whom the King: * In such distress we 

stand, 
No vulgar counsels our affairs demand; 50 
Greece to preserve is now no easy part, 
But asks high wisdom, deep design, and art. 
For Jove averse our humble prayer denies, 
And bows his head to Hector's sacrifice. 
What eye has witness 'd, or what ear be- 

liev'd. 
In one great day, by one great arm 

achiev'd, 
Such wondrous deeds as Hector's hand has 

done, 
And we beheld, the last revolving sun ? 
What honours the belov'd of Jove adorn! 
Sprung from no God, and of no Goddess 

born, 60 

Yet such his acts, as Greeks unborn shall 

tell. 
And curse the battle where their fathers 

fell. 
Now speed thy hasty course along the 

fleet. 
There call great Ajax, and the Prince of 

Crete; 
Ourself to hoary Nestor will repair; 
To keep the guards on duty, be his care: 
(For Nestor's influence best that quarter 

guides. 
Whose son, with Merion, o'er the watch 

presides.') 
To whom the Spartan: * These thy orders 

borne, 
Say, shall I stay, or with despatch re- 
turn ? ' 70 
* There shalt thou stay (the King of ' 

Men replied). 
Else may we miss to meet without a guide. 
The paths so many, and the camp so wide. 
Still, with your voice, the slothful soldiers 

raise. 
Urge by their fathers' fame, their future 

praise. 
Forget we now our state and lofty birth ; 
Not titles here, but works, must prove our 

worth. 
To labour is the lot of man below; 
And when Jove gave us life, he gave us 

woe.* 
This said, each parted to his sev'ral 

cares; 80 

The King to Nestor's sable ship repairs ; 
The sage protector of the Greeks he found 
Stretch'd in his bed, with all his arms 

around; 



The various-colour'd scarf, the shield he 

rears, 
The shining helmet, and the pointed spears; 
The dreadful weapons of the warrior's 

rage, 
That, old in arms, disdain'd the peace of 

age. 
Then, leaning on his hand his watchful 

head, 
The hoary Monarch rais'd his eyes, and 

said: 
* What art thou, speak, that on designs 

unknown, 90 

While others sleep, thus range the camp 

alone ? 
Seek'st thou some friend, or nightly sen- 
tinel ? 
Stand off, approach not, but thy purpose 

tell.' 
' O son of Neleus! (thus the King re- 

join'd) 
Pride of the Greeks, and glory of thy kind! 
Lo here the wretched Agamemnon stands, 
Th' unhappy Gen'ral of the Grecian bands; 
Whom Jove decrees with daily cares to 

bend. 
And woes, that only with his life shall end! 
Scarce can my knees these trembling limbs 

sustain, 100 

And scarce my heart support its load of 

pain. 
No taste of sleep these heavy eyes have 

known; 
Confused, and sad, I wander thus alone, 
With fears distracted, with no fix'd design ; 
And all my people's miseries are mine. 
If aught of use thy waking thought sug- 
gest, 
(Since cares, like mine, deprive, thy soul of 

rest, 
Impart thy counsel, and assist thy friend: 
Now let us jointly to the trench descend, 
At every gate the fainting guard excite, no 
Tired with the toils of day, and watch of 

night: 
Else may the sudden foe our works invade, 
So near, and favour'd by tlie gloomy shade.' 
To him thus Nestor : ' Trust the Powers 

above. 
Nor think proud Hector's hopes coufirm'd 

by Jove: 
How ill agree the views of vain mankind, 
And the wise counsels of th' eternal mind! 
Audacious Hector, if the Gods ordain 
That great Achilles rise and rage again, 



366 



TRANSLATION'S FROM HOMER 



What toils attend thee, and what woes 

remain! 120 

Lo ! faithful Nestor thy command obeys; 
The care is next our other Chiefs to raise: 
Ulysses, Diomed, we chiefly need; 
Meges for strength, Oileus famed for 

speed, 
Some other be despatch 'd of nimbler feet, 
To those tall ships, remotest of the fleet. 
Where lie great Ajax, and the King of 

Crete. 

To rouse the Spartan I myself decree; 
Dear as he is to us, and dear to thee, 
Yet must I tax his sloth, that claims no 

share, 130 

With his great brother, in this martial 

care: 
Him it behoved to ev'ry Chief to sue, 
Preventing ev'ry part perform'd by you; 
For strong necessity our toils demands. 
Claims all our hearts, and urges all our 

hands.' 
To whom the King: ' With rev'rence we 

allow 
Thy just rebukes, yet learn to spare them 

now. 
My gen'rous brother is of gentle kind, 
He seems remiss, but bears a valiant mind; 
Thro' too much def 'rence to our sov'reign 

sway, 140 

Content to follow when we lead the way. 
But now, our ills industrious to prevent, 
Long ere the rest he rose, and sought my 

tent. 
The Chiefs you named, already, at his call, 
Prepare to meet us at the navy-wall; 
Assembling there, between the trench and 

gates, 
Near the night-guards our chosen council 

waits.' 
*Then none (said Nestor) shall his rule 

withstand, 
For great examples justify command.' 149 

With that^ the venerable warrior rose ; 
The shining greaves his manly legs enclose ; 
His purple mantle golden buckles join'd, 
Warm with the softest wool, and doubly 

lin'd. 
Then, rushing from his tent, he snatch'd in 

haste 
His steely lance, that lighten'd as he 

pass'd. 
The camp he travers'd thro' the sleeping 

crowd, 
Stopp'd at Ulysses' tent, and call'd aloud. 



Ulysses, sudden as the voice was sent, 
Awakes, starts up, and issues from his 

tent: 
' What new distress, what sudden cause 

of fright, 160 

Thus leads you wand'ring in the silent 

night ? ' 
' O prudent Chief! (the Pylian Chief re- 
plied) 
Wise as thou art, be now thy wisdom tried: 
Whatever means of safety can be sought. 
Whatever counsels can inspire our thought, 
Whatever methods, or to fly or fight; 
All, all depend on this important night! ' 
He heard, return'd, and took his painted 

shield : 
Then join'd the Chiefs, and follow'd thro' 

the field. 169 

Without his tent, bold Diomed they found, 
All sheath'd in arms, his brave companions 

round : 
Each sunk in sleep, extended on the field, 
His head reclining on his bossy shield: 
A wood of spears stood by, that, fix'd up- 
right, 
Shot from their flashing points a quiv'ring 

light. 
A bull's black hide composed the hero's 

bed; 
A splendid carpet roll'd beneath his head. 
Then, with his foot, old Nestor gently 

shakes 
The slumb'ring Chief, and in these words 

awakes: 
'Rise, son of Tydeus! to the brave and 

strong 180 

Rest seems inglorious, and the night too 

long. 
But sleep'st thou now ? when from yon hill 

the foe 
Hangs o'er the fleet, and shades our walls 

below ? ' 
At this, soft slumber from hir eyelids fled; 
Tlie warrior saw the hoary Chief, and said: 
'Wondrous old man! whose soul no respite 

knows, 
Tho' years and honours bid thee seek re- 
pose. 
Let younger Greeks our sleeping warriors 

wake; 
111 fits thy age these toils to undertake.' 
' My friend ' (he answer'd), * gen'rous is 

thy care, 190 

These toils, my subjects and my sons might 

bear, 



THE ILIAD 



367 



Their loyal thoughts and pious loves con- 
spire 

To ease a Sov'reign, and relieve a Sire. 

But now the last despair surrounds our 
host; 

No hour must pass, no moment must be 
lost; 

Each single Greek, in this conclusive strife. 

Stands on the sharpest edge of death or 
life: 

Yet if my years thy kind regard engage. 

Employ thy youth as I employ my age; 

Succeed to these my cares, and rouse the 
rest; 200 

He serves me most, who serves his country 
best.' 
This said, the Hero o'er his shoulder 
flung 

A lion's spoils, that to his ankles hung; S- 

Then seiz'd his pond'rous lance, and strode 
along. 

Meges the bold, with Ajax famed for 
speed. 

The warrior rous'd, and to th' entrench- 
ments led. 
And now the Chiefs approach the nightly 
guard ; 

A wakeful squadron, each in arms pre- 
pared : 

Th' unwearied watch their list'ning leaders 
keep, 209 

And, couching close, repel invading sleep. 

So faithful dogs their fleecy charge main- 
tain, 

With toil protected from the prowling 
train ; 

When the gaunt lioness, with hunger bold. 

Springs from the mountains tow'rd the 
guarded fold: 

Thro' breaking woods her rustling course 
they hear; 

Loud, and more loud, the clamours strike 
their ear 

Of hounds, and men; they start, they gaze 
around; 

Watch ev'ry side, and turn to ev'ry sound. 

Thus watch'd the Grecians, cautious of 
surprise. 

Each voice, each motion, drew their ears 
and eyes; 220 

Each step of passing feet increas'd th' 
affright ; 

And hostile Troy was ever full in sight. 

Nestor with joy the wakeful band sur- 
vey'd, 



And thus accosted thro' the gloomy shade: 
* 'T is well, my sons! your nightly cares 

employ, 
Else must our host become the scorn of 

Troy. 

* Watch thus, and Greece shall live.' The 

hero said; 

Then o'er the trench the foU'wing Chief- 
tains led. 

His son, and godlike Merion, march'd be- 
hind; 

(For these the Princes to their council 
join'd) ; 230 

The trenches pass'd, th' assembled Kings 
around 

In silent state the consistory crown'd. 

A place there was yet undefil'd with gore. 

The spot where Hector stopp'd his rage 
before, 

When night, descending, from his vengeful 
hand 

Repriev'd the relics of the Grecian band. 

(The plain beside with mangled corps was 
spread. 

And all his progress mark'd by heaps of 
dead.) 

There sat the mournful kings: when Ne- 
leus' son. 

The Council opening, in these words be- 
gun : 240 

* Is there ' (said he) * a Chief so greatly 

brave. 
His life to hazard, and his country save ? 
Lives there a man, who singly dares to go 
To yonder camp, or seize some straggling 

foe? 
Or, favour'd by the night, approach so 

near, 
Their speech, their counsels, and designs 

to hear ? 
If to besiege our navies they prepare. 
Or Troy once more must be the seat of 

war ? 
This could he learn and to our peers recite, 
And pass unharm'd the dangers of the 

night: 250 

What fame were his thro' all succeeding 

days. 
While Phoebus shines, or men have tongues 

to praise! 
What gifts his grateful country would be- 
stow! 
What must not Greece to her deliv'rer owe! 
A sable ewe each leader should provide, 
With each a sable lambkin by her side; 



368 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



At ev*ry rite his share should be increas'd, 

And his the foremost honours of the feast.' 

Fear held them mute: alone, untaught 

to fear, 
Tydides spoke: 'The man you seek is 

here. 260 

Thro' you black camps to bend my danger- 
ous way. 
Some God within commands, and I obey. 
But let some other chosen warrior join. 
To raise my hopes and second my design. 
By mutual confidence and mutual aid. 
Great deeds are done, and great discov'ries 

made; 
The wise new prudence from the wise 

acquire. 
And one brave hero fans another's fire.' 
Contending leaders at the word arose; 
Each gen'rous breast with emulation 

glows: 270 

So brave a task each Ajax strove to share. 
Bold Merion strove, and Nestor's valiant 

heir; 
The Spartan wish'd the second place to 

gain, 
And great Ulysses wish'd, nor wish'd in 

vain. 
Then thus the King of Men the contest 

ends : 
'Thou first of warriors, and thou best of 

friends, 
Undaunted Diomed! what Chief to join 
In this great enterprise, is only thine. 
Just be thy choice, without affection made, 
To birth or office no respect be paid; 280 
Let worth determine here.' The Monarch 

spake, 
And inly trembled for his brother's sake. 
Then thus (the godlike Diomed re- 

join'd) : 
*My choice declares the impulse of my 

mind. 
How can I doubt, while great Ulysses 

stands 
To lend his counsels, and assist our hands ? 
A Chief, whose safety is Minerva's care: 
So famed, so dreadful in the works of 

war: 
Bless'd in his conduct, I no aid require. 
Wisdom like his might pass thro' flames of 

fire.' 290 

'It fits thee not, before these Chiefs of 

fame ' 
(Replied the Sage), 'to praise me, or to 

blame : 



Praise from a friend, or censure from a 

foe, 
Are lost on hearers that our merits know. 
But let us haste. Night rolls the hours 

away. 
The redd'ning Orient shows the coming 

day. 
The stars shine fainter on th' ethereal 

plains. 
And of Night's empire but a third re- 
mains.' 
Thus having spoke, with gen'rous ardour 

press'd. 
In arms terrific their huge limbs they 

dress'd. 300 

A two-edged falchion Thrasymed the brave. 
And ample buckler, to Tydides gave: 
Then in a leathern helm he cased his 

head. 
Short of its crest, and with no plume o'er- 

spread : 
(Such as by youths, unused to arms, are 

worn ; 
No spoils enrich it, and no studs adorn.) 
Next him Ulysses took a shining sword, 
A bow and quiver, with bright arrows 

stor'd : 
A well-prov'd casque, with leather braces 

bound 309 

(Thy gift, Meriones), his temple crown'd: 
Soft wool within; without, in order spread, 
A boar's white teeth grinn'd horrid o'er his 

head. 
This from Amyntor, rich Ormenus' son, 
Autolycus by fraudful rapine won, 
And gave Amphidamas; from him the 

prize 
Molus receiv'd, the pledge of social ties; 
The helmet next by Merion was possess'd. 
And now Ulysses' thoughtful temples 

press'd. 
Thus sheath 'd in arms, the council they 

forsake, 
And dark thro' paths oblique their progress 

take. 320 

Just then, in sign she favour'd their intent, 
A long-wing'd heron great Minerva sent: 
This, tho' surrounding shades obscured 

their view, 
By the shrill clang and whistling wings 

they knew. 
As from the right she soar'd, Ulysses 

pray'd, 
Hail'd the glad omen, and address'd the 

Maid: 



THE ILIAD 



369 



* Daughter of that God, whose arm 
can wield 

Th' avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful 
shield! 

O thou! for ever present in my way, 329 

Who all my motions, all my toils, survey! 

Safe may we pass beneath the gloomy 
sliade. 

Safe by thy succour to our ships convey 'd; 

And let some deed this signal night adorn, 

To claim the tears of Trojans yet unborn.' 
Then godlike Diomed preferr'd his 
prayer: 

'Daughter of Jove, unconquer'd Pallas! 
hear, 

Great Queen of Arras, whose favour Ty- 
deus won, 

As thou defend'st the sire, defend the son. 

When on iEsopus' banks the banded powers 

Of Greece he left, and sought the Theban 
towers, 340 

Peace was his charge; receiv'd with peace- 
ful show, 

He went a legate, but return'd a foe: 

Then help'd by thee, and cover'd by thy 
shield. 

He fought with numbers, and made num- 
bers yield. 

So now be present, O celestial Maid! 

So still continue to the race thine aid! 

A youthful steer shall fall beneath the 
stroke. 

Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke. 

With ample forehead, and with spreading 
horns, 349 

Whose taper tops refulgent gold adorns.' 
The heroes pray'd, and Pallas, from the 
skies. 

Accords their vow, succeeds their enter- 
prise. 

Now like two lions panting for the prey. 

With deathful thoughts they trace the 
dreary way, 

Thro' the black horrors of th' ensanguin'd 
plain. 

Thro' dust, thro' blood, o'er arms, and hills 
of slain. 
Nor less bold Hector, and the sons of 
Troy, 

On high designs the wakeful hours em- 
ploy; 

Th' assembled peers their lofty Chief en- 
closed; 

Who thus the counsels of his breast pro- 
posed: 360 



' What glorious man, for high attempts 

prepared, 
Dares greatly venture for a rich reward ? 
Of yonder fleet a bold discov'ry make. 
What watch they keep, and what resolves 

they take ? 
If now, subdued, they meditate their flight, 
And, spent with toil, neglect the watch of 

night ? 
His be the chariot that shall please him 

most, 
Of all the plunder of the vanquish'd host; 
His the fair steeds that all the rest excel. 
And his the glory to have serv'd so well.' 
A youth there was among the tribes of 

Troy, 371 

Dolon his name, Eumedes' only boy, 
(Five girls beside the rev'rend Herald told) : 
Rich was the son in brass, and rich in gold: 
Not bless'd by Nature with the charms of 

face, 
But swift of foot, and matchless in the race, 

* Hector! ' (he said) ' my courage bids me 

meet 
This high achievement, and explore the fleet: 
But first exalt thy sceptre to the skies. 
And swear to grant me the demanded prize; 
Th' immortal coursers, and the glitt'ring 
car 381 

That bear Pelides thro' the ranks of war. 
Encouraged thus, no idle scout I go, 
Fulfil thy wish, their whole intention know, 
Ev'n to the royal tent pursue my way, 
And all their councils, all their aims, be- 
tray.' 
The Chief then heav'd the golden scep- 
tre high, 
Attesting thus the Monarch of the Sky: 

* Be witness, thou! ' immortal Lord of All I 
Whose thunder shakes the dark aerial hall: 
By none but Dolon shall this prize be 

borne, 391 

And him alone th' immortal steeds adorn.' 

Thus Hector swore : the Gods were call'd 

in vain ; 
But the rash youth prepares to scour the 

plain : 
Across his back the bended bow he flung, 
A wolf's grey hide around his shoulders 

hung, 
A ferret's downy fur his helmet lined, 
And in his hand a pointed jav'lin shined. 
Then (never to return) he sought the shore, 
And trod the path his feet must tread no 

more. 400 



370 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Scarce had he pass'd the steeds and Trojan 

throng, 
(Still bending forward as he cours'd along), 
When, on the hollow way, th' approaching 

tread 
Ulysses mark'd, and thus to Diomed: 
• O friend ! I hear some step of hostile 

feet. 
Moving this way, or hast'ning to the fleet; 
Some spy, perhaps, to lurk beside the main; 
Or nightly pillager that strips the slain. 
Yet let him pass, and win a little space; 
Then rush behind him, and prevent his 

pace. 410 

But if, too swift of foot, he flies before. 
Confine his course along the fleet and shore. 
Betwixt the camp and him our spears em- 

And intercept his hoped return to Troy.' 
With that they stepp'd aside, and stoop'd 
their head 

(As Dolon pass'd), behind a heap of dead: 

Along the path the spy unwary flew: 

Soft, at just distance, both the Chiefs pur- 
sue. 

So distant they, and such the space between, 

As when two teams of mules divide the 
green 420 

(To whom the hind like shares of land al- 
lows). 

When now new furrows part th' approach- 
ing ploughs. 

Now Dolon list'ning heard them as they 
pass'd; 

Hector (he thought) had sent, and check'd 
his haste: 

Till scarce at distance of a jav'lin's throw, 

No voice succeeding, he perceiv'd the foe. 

As when two skilful hounds the lev'ret 
wind. 

Or chase thro' woods obscure the trembling 
hind, 

Now lost, now seen, they intercept his way. 

And from the herd still turn the flying 
prey: 430 

So fast, and with such fears, the Trojan 
flew; 

So close, so constant, the bold Greeks pur- 
sue. 

Now almost on the fleet the dastard falls,, 

And mingles with the guards that watch 
the walls: 

When brave Tydides stopp'd: a gen'rous 
thought 

(Inspired by Pallas) in his bosom wrought, 



Lest on the foe some forward Greek ad- 
vance. 
And snatch the glory from his lifted lance. 
Then thus aloud: * Whoe'er thou art, re- 
main; 
This jav'lin else shall fix thee to the 

plain.' 440 

He said, and high in air the weapon cast, 
Which wilful err'd, and o'er his shoulder 

pass'd: 
Then fix'd in earth. Against the trembling 

wood 
The wretch stood propp'd, and quiver'd as 

he stood; 
A sudden palsy seiz'd his turning head; 
His loose teeth chatter'd, and his colour 

fled: 
The panting warriors seize him, as he 

stands. 
And, with unmanly tears, his life demands: 
' O spare my youth, and, for the breath 

I owe, 
Large gifts of price my father shall be- 
stow: 450 
Vast heaps of brass shall in your ships be 

told. 
And steel well-temper'd, and refulgent 

gold.' 
To whom Ulysses made this wise reply: 
* Whoe'er thou art, be bold, nor fear to die. 
What moves thee, say, when sleep has closed 

the sight, 
To roam the silent fields in dead of night ? 
Camest thou the secrets of our camp to 

find. 
By Hector prompted, or thy daring mind ? 
Or art some wretch by hopes of plunder 

led 
Thro' heaps of carnage to despoil the 

dead? ' 460 

Then thus pale Dolon with a fearful look 

(Still as he spoke his limbs with horror 

shook) : 
'Hither I came, by Hector's words deceiv'd: 
Much did he promise, rashly I believ'd; 
No less a bribe than great Achilles' car, 
And those swift steeds that sweep the ranks 

of war, 
Urged me, unwilling, this attempt to make; 
To learn what counsels, what resolves, you 

take: 
If now, subdued, you fix your hopes on 

flight. 
And, tired with toils, neglect the watch of 

night? ' 470 



THE ILIAD 



371 



* Bold was thy aim, and glorious was the 

prize ' 

(Ulysses, with a scornful smile, replies) ; 

'Far other rulers those proud steeds de- 
mand. 

And scorn the guidance of a vulgar hand ; 

Ev'n great Achilles scarce their rage can 
tame, 

Achilles sprung from an immortal dame. 

But say, be faithful, and the truth recite: 

Where lies encamp'd the Trojan Chief to- 
night ? 

Where stand his coursers ? iu what quarter 
sleep 

Their other princes ? tell what watch they 
keep. 480 

Say, since this conquest, what their coun- ' 
sels are; 

Or here to combat, from their city far. 

Or back to Ilion's walls transfer the war ?* 
Ulysses thus, and thus Eumedes' son: 

* What Dolon knows, his faithful tongue 
shall own. 

Hector, the peers assembling in his tent, 

A council holds at Ilus' monument. 

No certain guards the nightly watch par- 
take: 

Where'er yon fires ascend, the Trojans 
wake: 

Anxious for Troy, the guard the natives 
keep: 490 

Safe in their cares, th' auxillar forces sleep. 

Whose wives and infants, from the danger 
far. 

Discharge their souls of half the fears of 
war.' 

* Then sleep these aids among the Trojan 

train,' 
(Inquired the Chief), 'or scatter'd o'er the 

plain ? ' 
To whom the spy : ' Their powers they 

thus dispose; 
The Pseons, dreadful with their bended 

bows. 
The Carians, Caucons, the Pelasgian host. 
And Leleges, encamp along the coast. 
Not distant far, lie higher on the land 500 
The Lycian, Mysian, and Maeonian band, 
And Phrygia's horse, by Thymbra's ancient 

wall ; 
The Thracians utmost, and apart from all. 
These Troy but lately to her succour won. 
Led on by Rhesus, great Eioneus' son: 
I saw his coursers in proud triumph go. 
Swift as the wind, and white as winter snow: 



Rich silver plates his shining car infold; 

His solid arms, refulgent, flame with gold; 

No mortal shoulders suit the glorious load. 

Celestial panoply, to grace a God! 51 1 

Let me, unhappy, to your fleet be borne. 

Or leave me here, a captive's fate to mourn, 

In cruel chains; till your return reveal 

The truth or falsehood of the news I tell.' 
To this Tydides, with a gloomy frown: 

' Think not to live, tho' all the truth be 
shewn ; 

Shall we dismiss thee, in some future strife 

To risk more bravely thy now forfeit life ? 

Or that again our camps thou may'st ex- 
plore ? 520 

No — once a traitor, thou betray'st no 
more.' 
Sternly he spoke, and, as the wretch pre- 
pared 

With humble blandishment to stroke his 
beard, 

Like lightning swift the wrathful falchion 
flew. 

Divides the neck, and cuts the nerves in 
two J 

One instant snatch'd his trembling soul to 
Hell, 

The head, yet speaking, mutter'd as it fell. 

The furry helmet from his brow they tear. 

The wolf's grey hide, th' unbended bow and 
spear; 

These great Ulysses lifting to the skies, 530 

To fav'ring Pallas dedicates the prize: 
'Great Queen of Arms! receive this hos' 
tile spoil, 

And let the Thracian steeds reward ou*' 
toil: 

Thee first of all the heav'nly host we 
praise; 

speed our labours, and direct our ways! ' 

This said, the spoils, with dropping gore 
defaced. 

High on a spreading tamarisk he placed; 

Then heap'd with reeds and gather'd boughs 
the plain, 

To guide their footsteps to the place again. 
Thro' the still night they cross the devi- 
ous fields, 540 

Slipp'ry with blood, o'er arms and heaps of 
shields. 

Arriving where the Thracian squadrons lay, 

And eased in sleep the labours of the day. 

Ranged in three lines they view the pros- 
trate band: 

The horses yoked beside each warrior stand; 



372 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Their arms in order on the ground reclined, 
Thro' the brown shade the fulgid weapons 

shined; 
Amidst, lay Rhesus, stretch'd in sleep pro- 
found, 
And the white steeds behind his chariot 

bound. 
The welcome sight Ulysses first descries, 550 
And points to Diomed the tempting prize: 
' The man, the coursers, and the car be- 
hold! 
Described by Dolon, with the arras of gold. 
Now, brave Tydides! now thy courage try, 
Approach the chariot, and the steeds untie; 
Or if thy soul aspire to fiercer deeds, 
Urge thou the slaughter, while I seize the 
steeds.' 
Pallas (this said) her hero's bosom 
warms, 
Breathed in his heart, and strung his ner- 
vous arms; 
Where'er he pass'd, a purple stream pur- 
sued; 560 
His thirsty falchion, fat with hostile blood. 
Bathed all his footsteps, dyed the fields 

with gore. 
And a low groan remurmur'd thro' the 

shore. 
So the grim lion, from his nightly den, 
O'erleaps the fences, and invades the pen; 
On sheep or goats, resistless in his way. 
He falls, and foaming rends the guardless 

prey. 
Nor stopp'd the fury of his vengeful hand. 
Till twelve lay breathless of the Thracian 

band. 
Ulysses foll'wing as his partner slew, 570 
Back by the foot each slaughter'd warrior 

drew; 
The milk-white coursers studious to convey 
Safe to the ships, he wisely clear'd the way ; 
Lest the fierce steeds, not yet to battles 

bred. 
Should start and tremble at the heaps of 

dead. 
Now twelve despatch'd, the Monarch last 

they found; 
Tydides' falchion fix'd him to the ground. 
Just then a dreadful dream Minerva sent; 
A warlike form appear'd before his tent. 
Whose visionary steel his bosom tore: 580 
So dream'd the Monarch, and awaked no 
more. 
Ulysses now the snowy steeds detains. 
And leads them fasten'd by the silver reins; 



These, with his bow unbent, he lash'd along 

(The scourge, forgot, on Rhesus' chariot 
hung). 

Then gave his friend the signal to retire; 

But him new dangers, new achievements, 
fire: 

Doubtful he stood, or with his reeking blade 

To send more heroes to th' infernal shade. 

Drag off the car where Rhesus' armour 
lay, _ 590 

Or heave with manly force, and lift away. 

While unresolv'd the son of Tydeus stands, 

Pallas appears, and thus her Chief com- 
mands: 
' Enough, my son ; from farther slaugh- 
ter cease. 

Regard thy safety, and depart in peace; 

Haste to the ships, the gotten spoils enjoy. 

Nor tempt too far the hostile Gods of Troy.' 
The voice divine confess'd the Martial 
Maid; 

In haste he mounted, and her word obey'd ; 

The coursers fly before Ulysses' bow, 600 

Swift as the wind, and white as winter 
snow. 
Not unobserv'd they pass'd: the God of 
Light 

Had watch 'd his Troy, and mark'd Miner- 
va's flight. 

Saw Tydeus' son with heav'nly succour 
bless'd. 

And vengeful anger fiU'd his sacred breast. 

Swift to the Trojan camp descends the 
power. 

And wakes Hippocoon in the morning hour 

(On Rhesus' side accustom'd to attend, 

A faithful kinsman and instructive friend). 

He rose, and saw the field deform'd with 
blood, 610 

An empty space where late the coursers 
stood. 

The yet warm Thracians panting on the 
coast; 

For each he wept, but for his Rhesus most. 

Now, while on Rhesus' name he calls in vain, 

The gath'ring tumult spreads o'er all the 
plain ;. 

On heaps the Trojans rush, with wild af- 
fright. 

And wond'ring view the slaughter of the 
night. 
Meanwhile the Chiefs arriving at the 
shade 

Where late the spoils of Hector's spy were 
laid. 



THE ILIAD 



373 



Ulysses stopp'd; to him Tydides bore 620 
The trophy, dropping yet with Dolon's 

gore: 
Then mounts again; again their nimble 

feet 
The coursers ply, and thunder towards the 

fleet. 
Old Nestor first perceiv'd th* approach- 
ing sound, 
Bespeaking thus the Grecian peers around: 
'Methinks the noise of trampling steeds I 

hear, 
Thick'ning this way, and gath'ring on my 

ear; 
Perhaps some horses of the Trojan breed 
(So may, ye Gods! my pious hopes succeed) 
The great Tydides and Ulysses bear, 630 
Return'd triumphant with this prize of war. 
Yet much I fear (ah may that fear be 

vain) ! 
The Chiefs outnumber'd by the Trojan 

train; 
Perhaps, ev'n now pursued, they seek the 

shore ; 
Or, oh! perhaps those heroes are no more.' 
Scarce had he spoke, when lo! the Chiefs 

appear. 
And spring to earth; the Greeks dismiss 

their fear: 
With words of friendship and extended 

hands 
They greet the Kings; and Nestor first de- 
mands: 
'Say thou, whose praises all our host 

proclaim, 640 

Thou living glory of the Grecian name! 
Say, whence these coursers ? by what 

chance bestow'd. 
The spoil of foes, or present of a God ? 
Not those fair steeds so radiant and so gay, 
That draw the burning chariot of the day. 
Old as I am, to age I scorn to yield, 
And daily mingle in the martial field; 
But sure till now no courses struck my 

sight 
Like tliese, conspicuous thro' the ranks of 

fight. 
Some God, I deem, conferr'd the glorious 

prize, 650 

Bless'd as ye are, and fav'rites of the skies: 
The care of him who bids the thunder roar. 
And her, whose fury bathes the world with 

gore 1 * 
'Father! not so (sage Ithaeus rejoin'd), 
The gifts of Heav'n are of a nobler kind. 



Of Thracian lineage are the steeds ye view, 
Whose hostile King the brave Tydides 

slew; 
Sleeping he died, with all his guards around. 
And twelve beside lay gasping on the 

ground. 
These other spoils from conquer'd Dolon 
came, 660 

A wretch, whose swiftness was his only 

fame; 
By Hector sent our forces to explore, 
He now lies headless on the sandy shore.' 
Then o'er the trench the bounding cours- 
ers flew; 
The joyful Greeks with loud acclaim pur- 
sue. 
Straight to Tydides' high pavilion borne. 
The matchless steeds his ample stalls adorn: 
The neighing coursers their new fellows 

greet. 
And the full racks are heap'd with gen'- 
rous wheat. 669 

But Dolon's armour to his ships convey'd, ^ 
High on the painted stern Ulysses laid, V 
A trophy destin'd to the blue-eyed maid. J 
Now from nocturnal sweat, and sanguine 
stain. 
They cleanse their bodies in the neighb'ring 

main: 
Then in the polish'd bath, refresh'd from 

toil, 
Their joints they supple with dissolving oil, 
In due repast indulge the genial hour. 
And first to Pallas the libations pour: 
They sit rejoicing in her aid divine. 
And the crown'd goblet foams with floods 
of wine. 680 



BOOK XI 

THE THIRD BATTLE, AND THE ACTS OF 
AGAMEMNON 

THE ARGUMENT 

Agamemnon, having armed himself, leads the 
Grecians to battle ; Hector prepares the Tro- 
jans to receive them : while Jupiter, Juno, 
and Minerva give the signals of war. Aga- 
memnon bears all before him ; and Hector is 
commanded by Jupiter (who sends Iris for 
that purpose) to decline the engagement, till 
the king should be wounded and retire from 
the field. He then makes a great slaughter 
of the enemy ; Ulysses and Dioraede put a 
stop to him for a time ; but the latter, being 



374 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



•wounded by Paris, is obliged to desert his 
companion, who is encompassed by the Tro- 
jans, wounded, and in the utmost danger, 
till Menelaus and Ajax rescue him. Hector 
comes against Ajax, but that hero alone op- 
poses multitudes and rallies the Greeks. In 
the meantime Machaon, in the other wing o£ 
the army, is pierced with an arrow by Paris, 
and carried from the fight in Nestor's chariot. 
Achilles (who overlooked the action from his 
ship) sends Patroclus to inquire which of the 
Greeks was wounded in that manner. Nes- 
tor entertains him in his tent with an account 
of the accidents of the day, and a long re- 
cital of some former wars which he had re- 
membered, tending to put Patroclus upon 
persuading Achilles to fight for his country- 
men, or at least to permit him to do it clad 
in Achilles' armour. Patroclus in his retiirn 
meets Eurypylus also wounded, and assists in 
that distress. 
This book opens with the eight-and-twentieth 
day of the poem ; and the same day, with its 
various actions and adventures, is extended 
through the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, 
fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth, and part of 
the eighteenth books. The scene lies in the 
field near the monument of Ilus. 



The saffron Mom, wifeh early blushes 

spread, 
Now rose refulgent from Tithonus' bed; 
With new-born day to gladden mortal 

sight, 
And gild the courts of Heav'n with sacred 

light:- 
When baleful Eris, sent by Jove's com- 
mand, 
The torch of discord blazing in her hand, 
Thro' the red skies her bloody sign extends, 
And, wrapp'd in tempests, o'er the fleet 

descends. 
High on Ulysses' bark her horrid stand 
She took, and thunder'd thro' the seas and 

land. lo 

Ev'n Ajax and Achilles heard the sound, 
Whose ships, remote, the guarded navy 

bound . 
Thence the black fury thro' the Grecian 

throng 
With horror sounds the loud Orthian song: 
The navy shakes, and at the dire alarms 
Each bosom boils, each warrier starts to 

arms: 
No more they sigh inglorious to return, 
But breathe revenge, and for the combat 

burn. 



The King of Men his hardy host inspires 
With loud command, with great example 

fires: 20 

Himself first rose, himself before the rest 
His mighty limbs in radiant armour dress'd. 
And first he cased his manly legs around 
In shining greaves, with silver buckles 

bound: 
The beaming cuirass next adorn'd his 

breast, 
The same which once King Cinyras pos- 

sess'd: 
(The fame of Greece and her assembled 

host 
Had reach'd that Monarch on the Cyprian 

coast; 
'T was then, the friendship of the Chief to 

gain. 
This glorious gift he sent, nor sent in 

vain.) 30 

Ten rows of azure steel the work infold. 
Twice ten of tin, and twelve of ductile 

gold; 
Three glitt'ring dragons to the gorget rise, 
Whose imitated scales against tlie skies 
Reflected various light, and arching bow'd, 
Like colour'd rainbows o'er a showery 

cloud 
(Jove's wondrous bow, of three celestial 

dA'CS, 

Placed as a sign to man amid the skies). 
A radiant baldrick, o'er his shoulder tied, 
Sustain'd the sword that glitter'd at his 
side; 40 

Gold was the hilt, a silver sheath encased 
The shining blade, and golden hangers 

graced. 
His buckler's mighty orb was next dis- 
play 'd. 
That round the warrior cast a dreadful 

shade; 
Ten zones of brass its ample brim sur- 
round. 
And twice ten bosses the bright convex 

crown'd ; 
Tremendous Gorgon frown'd upon its field. 
And circling terrors fill th' expressive 

shield: 
Within its concave hung a silver thong. 
On wliich a mimic serpent creeps along, 50 
His azure length in easy waves extends, 
Till in three heads th' embroider'd mon- 
ster ends. 
Last o'er his brows his fourfold helm he 
placed, 



THE ILIAD 



375 



With nodding horse-hair formidably graced ; 
And in his hands two steely jav'lins wields, 
That blaze to Heav'n, and lighten all the 

fields. 
That instant Juno and the Martial i\Iaid 
In happy thunders piomis'd Greece their 

aid; 
High o'er the Chief they clash'd their arms 

in air, 
And, leaning from the clouds, expect the 

war. 5o 

Close to the limits of the trench and 

mound, 
The fiery coursers, to their chariots bound. 
The squires restrain'd; the foot, with those 

who wield 
The lighter arms, rush forward to the 

field. 
To second these, in close array combin'd, 
The squadrons spread their sable wings 

behind. 
Now shouts and tumults wake the tardy 

sun. 
As with the light the warriors' toils begun ; 
Ev'n Jove, whose thunder spoke his wrath, 

distill'd 
Red drops of blood o'er all the fatal 

field; 70 

The woes of men unwilling to survey, 
And all the slaughters that must stain the 

day. 
Near Ilus' tomb in order ranged around, 
The Trojan lines possess'd the rising 

ground. 
There wise Polydamas and Hector stood; 
^neas, honour'd as a guardian God; 
Bold Polybus, Agenor the divine; 
The brother- warriors of Antenor's line; 
With youthful Acamas, whose beauteous 

face. 
And fair proportions, match'd th' ethereal 

race. 80 

Great Hector, cover'd with his spacious 

shield. 
Plies all the troops, and orders all the field. 
As the red star now shews his sanguine 

fires, 
Thro' the dark clouds, and now in night 

retires; 
Thus thro' the ranks appear'd the godlike 

man. 
Plunged in the rear, or blazing in the van; 
While streamy sparkles, restless as he flies, 
Flash from his arms, as lightning from the 

skies. 



As sweating reapers in some wealthy field. 

Ranged in two bands, their crooked wea- 
pons wield, 90 

Bear down the furrow^s till their labours 
meet; 

Thick fall the heapy harvests at their 
feet: 

So Greece and Troy the field of war divide. 

And falling ranks are strew'd on ev'ry 
side. 

None stoop'd a thought to base inglorious 
flight; 

But horse to horse and man to man they 
fight. 

Not rabid wolves more fierce contest their 
prey; 

Each wounds, each bleeds, but none resign 
the day. 

Discord with joy the scene of death de- 
scries, 

And drinks large slaughter at her sanguine 
eyes: 100 

Discord alone, of all th' immortal train. 

Swells the red horrors of this direful plain: 

The Gods in peace their golden mansions 
fill. 

Ranged in bright erder on th' Olympian 
hill; 

But gen'ral murmurs told their griefs 
above. 

And each accused the partial will of Jove. 

Meanwhile apart, superior, and alone, 

Th' Eternal Monarch, on his awful throne, 

Wrapp'd in the blaze of boundless glory 
sat: 

And, fix'd, fulfill'd the just decrees of 
fate. 1 10 

On earth he turn'd his all-consid'ring eyes. 

And mark'd the spot where Ilion's towers 
arise; 

The sea with ships, the field with armies 
spread, 

The victor's rage, the dying, and the dead. 
Thus while the morning beams increas- 
ing bright 

O'er Heav'n's pure azure spread the glow- 
ing light, 

Commutual Death the fate of War con- 
founds. 

Each adverse battle gored with equal 
wounds. 

But now (what time in some sequester'd 
vale 

The weary woodman spreads his sparing 
meal, 120 



376 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



When his tired arms refuse the axe to 

rear, 
And claim a respite from the sylvan war; 
But not till half the prostrate forests lay 
Stretch'd in long ruin, and exposed to 

day;) 
Then, nor till then, the Greeks' impulsive 

might 
Pierc'd the black phalanx, and let in the 

light. 
Great Agamemnon then the slaughter led, 
And slew Bienor at his people's head; 
Whose squire Oileus, with a sudden spring, 
Leap'd from the chariot to revenge his 

King, 130 

But in his front he felt the fatal wound. 
Which pierc'd his brain, and stretch'd him 

on the ground: 
Atrides spoil'd, and left them on the plain: 
Vain was their youth, their glitt'ring ar- 
mour vain: 
Now soil'd with dust, and naked to the sky, 
Their snowy limbs and beauteous bodies 

lie. 
Two sons of Priam next to battle move, 
The product one of marriage, one of love; 
In the same car the brother warriors 

ride, 
This took the charge to combat, that to 

guide: 140 

Far other task, than when they went to 

keep. 
On Ida's tops, their father's fleecy sheep! 
These on the mountains once Achilles 

found. 
And captive led, with pliant osiers bound; 
Then to their sire for ample sums restor'd; 
But now to perish by Atrides' sword: 
Pierc'd in the breast the base-born Isus 

bleeds: 
Cleft thro' the head, his brother's fate suc- 
ceeds. 
Swift to the spoil the hasty victor falls. 
And, stripp'd, their features to his mind 

recalls. 150 

The Trojans see the youths untimely die. 
But helpless tremble for themselves, and 

fly. 
So when a lion, ranging o'er the lawns, 
Finds, on some grassy lair, the couching 

fawns, 
Their bones he cracks, their reeking vitals 

draws, 
And grinds the quiv'ring flesh with bloody 

jaws; 



The frighted hind beholds, and dares not 

stay, 
But swift thro' rustling thickets bursts her 

way; 
All drown'd in sweat the panting mother 

flies. 
And the big tears roll trickling from he-r 

eyes. 160 

Amidst the tumult of the routed train, 
The sons of false Antimachus were slain, 
He, who for bribes his faithless counsels 

sold, 
And voted Helen's stay for Paris' gold. 
Atrides mark'd, as these their safety 

sought. 
And slew the children for the father's 

fault ; 
Their headstrong horse unable to restrain. 
They shook with fear, and dropp'd the 

silken rein; 
Then in their chariot on their knees they 

fall. 
And thus with lifted hands for mercy 

call : 170 

' O spare our youth, and, for the life we 

owe, 
Antimachus shall copious gifts bestow; 
Soon as he hears, that, not in battle slain, 
The Grecian ships his captive sons detain, 
Large heaps of brass in ransom shall be 

told. 
And steel well-temper'd, and persuasive 

gold.' 
These words, attended with a flood of 

tears. 
The youths address'd to unrelenting ears: 
The vengeful Monarch gave this stern 

reply: 
' If from Antimachus ye spring, ye die: 180 
The daring wretch who once in council 

stood 
To shed Ulysses' and my brother's blood. 
For profPer'd peace! and sues his seed for 

grace ? 
'No, die, and pay the forfeit of your race.' 
This said, Pisander from the car he 

cast. 
And pierc'd his breast: supine he breathed 

his last. 
His brother leap'd to earth ; but, as he lay, 
The trenchant falchion lopp'd his hands 

away : 
His sever'd head was toss'd among the 

throng, 
And rolling drew a bloody trail along. 190 



THE ILIAD 



377 



Then, where the thickest fought, the victor 

flew; 
The King's example all his Greeks pursue. 
Now by the foot the flying foot were slain, 
Horse trod by horse lay foaming on the 

plain. 
From the dry fields thick clouds of dust 

arise, 
Shade the black host, and intercept the 

skies. 
The brass-hoof'd steeds tumultuous plunge 

and bound. 
And the thick thunder beats the lab'ring 

ground. 
Still, slaught'ring on, the King of Men pro- 
ceeds; 
The distanced army wonders at his deeds. 
As when the winds with raging flames con- 
spire, 20I 
And o'er the forests roll the flood of fire. 
In blazing heaps the grove's old honours 

fall. 
And one refulgent ruin levels all: 
Before Atrides' rage so sinks the foe. 
Whole squadrons vanish, and proud heads 

lie low. 
The steeds fly trembling from his waving 

sword ; 
And many a car, now lighten'd of its lord, 
Wide o'er the fields with guideless fury 

rolls. 
Breaking their ranks, and crushing out 

their souls: 210 

While his keen falchion drinks the war- 
riors' lives; 
More grateful now to vultures than their 

wives! 
Perhaps great Hector then had found his 

fate. 
But Jove and Destiny prolong'd his date. 
Safe from the darts, the care of Heav'n, he 

stood, 
Amidst alarms, and death, and dust, and 

blood. 
Now past the tomb where ancient Ilus 

lay. 
Thro' the mid field the routed urge their 

way 
Where the w ild figs th' adjoining summit 

crown. 
That path they take, and speed to reach 

the town. 220 

As swift Atrides with loud shouts pursued, 
Hot with his toil, and bathed in hostile 

blood. 



Now near the beech-tree, and the Scsean 
gates. 

The hero halts, and his associates waits. 

Meanwhile, on ev'ry side, around the plain, 

Dispers'd, disorder'd, fly the Trojan train. 

So flies a herd of beeves, that hear dis- 
may'd 

The lion's roaring thro' the midnight shade: 

On heaps they tumble with successless 
haste: 

The savage seizes, draws, and rends the 
last: 230 

Not with less fury stern Atrides flew. 

Still press'd the rout, and still the hind- 
most slew; 

Hurl'd from their cars the bravest Chiefs 
are kill'd. 

And rage, and death, and carnage, load the 
field. 
Now storms the victor at the Trojan 
wall; 

Surveys the towers, and meditates their 
fall. 

But Jove, descending, shook th' Idsean hills. 

And down their summits pour'd a hundred 
rills: 

Th' unkind led lightning in his hand he 
took. 

And thus the many-colour'd maid bespoke : 
' Iris, with haste thy golden wings dis- 
play, 241 

To godlike Hector this our word convey. 

While Agamemnon wastes the ranks 
around, 

Fights in the front, and bathes with blood 
the ground. 

Bid him give way; but issue forth com- 
mands. 

And trust the war to less important hands: 

But when, or wounded by the spear or 
dart, 

That Chief shall mount his chariot and de- 
part: 

Then Jove shall string his arm, and fire his 
breast, 

Then to her ships shall flying Greece be 
press'd, 250 

Till to the main the burning sun descend. 

And sacred niglit her awful shade extend.' 
He spoke, and Iris at his word obey'd; 

On wings of winds descends the various 
Maid. 

The Chief she found amidst the ranks of 
war. 

Close to the bulwarks, on his glitt'ring car. 



378 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The Goddess then: ' O son of Priam, hear! 

From Jove I come, and his high mandate 
bear. 

While Agamemnon wastes the ranks 
around, 

Fights in the front, and bathes with blood 
the ground, 260 

Abstain from fight, yet issue forth com- 
mands, 

And trust the war to less important hands: 

But when, or wounded by the spear or dart, 

The Chief shall mount his chariot, and de- 
part; 

Then Jove shall string thy arm, and fire 
thy breast. 

Then to her ships shall flying Greece be 
press'd, 

Till to the main the burning sun descend. 

And sacred night her awful shade extend.' 
She said, and vanish'd: Hector with a 
bound, 

Springs from his chariot on the trembling 
ground, 270 

In clanging arms: he grasps in either hand 

A pointed lance, and speeds from baud to 
band ; 

Revives their ardour, turns their steps from 
flight. 

And wakes anew the dying flames of fight. 

They stand to arms; the Greeks their onset 
dare, 

Condense their powers, and wait the com- 
ing war. 

New force, new spirit, to each breast re- 
turns; 

The fight renew'd, with fiercer fury burns: 

The King leads on; all fix on him their 
eye, 

And learn, from him, to conquer, or to die. 
Ye sacred Nine, celestial Muses! tell, 281 

Who faced him first, and by his prowess 
fell? 

The great Iphidamas, the bold and young: 

From sage Antenor and Theano sprung; 

Whom from his youth his grandsire Cisseus 
bred. 

And nurs'd in Thrace, where snowy flocks 
are fed. 

Scarce did the down his rosy cheeks invest. 

And early honour warm his gen'rous breast. 

When the kind sire consign'd his daughter's 
charms 

(Theano's sister) to his youthful arms: 290 

But, call'd by glory to the wars of Troy, 

He leaves untasted the first fruits of joy ; 



From his lov'd bride departs with melting 

eyes, 
And swift to aid his dearer country flies. 
With twelve black ships he reach'd Per- 

cope's strand. 
Thence took the long laborious march by 

land. 
Now fierce for Fame, before the ranks he 

springs, 
Tow'ring in arms, and braves the King of 

Kings. 
Atrides first discharged the missive spear; 
The Trojan stoop' d, the jav'lin pass'd in 

air. 300 

Then near the corslet, at the Monarch's 

heart. 
With all his strength the youth directs his 

dart: 
But the broad belt, with plates of silver 

bound. 
The point rebated, and repell'd the wound. 
Encumber'd with the dart, Atrides stands, 
Till, grasp'd with force, he wrench'd it from 

his hands. 
At once his weighty sword discharged a 

wound 
Full on his neck, that fell'd him to the 

ground. 
Stretch'd in the dust th' unhappy warrior 

lies. 
And sleep eternal seals his swimming eyes. 
Oh worthy better fate! oh early slain! 311 
Thy country's friend; and virtuous, tho' in 

vain ! 
No more the youth shall join his consort's 

side, 
At once a virgin, and at once a bride! 
No more with presents her embraces meet. 
Or lay the spoils of conquest at her feet. 
On whom his passion, lavish of his store, 
Bestow'd so much, and vainly promis'd 

more! 
Unwept, uncover'd, on the plain he lay, 319 
While the proud victor bore his arms away. 

Coon, Antenor's eldest hope, was nigh: 
Tears at the sight came starting from his 

eye, 
While pierc'd with grief the much-lov'd 

youth he view'd. 
And the pale features now deform'd with 

blood. 
Then with his spear, unseen, his time he 

took, 
Aim'd at the King, and near his elbow 

struck. 



THE ILIAD 



379 



The thrilling steel transpierc'd the brawny 

part, 
And thro' his arm stood forth the barbed 

dart. 
Surprised the Monarch feels, yet void of 

fear 
On Coon rushes with his lifted spear: 330 
His brother's corpse the pious Trojan draws. 
And calls his country to assert his cause, 
Defends him breathless on the sanguine 

field, 
And o'er the body spreads his ample shield. 
Atrides, marking an unguarded part, 
Trausfix'd the warrior with his brazen dart; 
Prone on his brother's bleeding breast he 

lay 
The Monarch's falchion lopp'd his head 

away : 
The social shades the same dark journey 

And join each other in the realms below. 
The vengeful victor rages round the 

fields, 341 

With ev'ry weapon art or fury yields: 
By the long lance, the sword, or pond'rous 

stone, 
Whole ranks are broken, and whole troops 

o'erthrown. 
This, while yet warm, distill'd the purple 

flood; 
But when the wound grew stiff with clotted 

blood, 
Then grinding tortures his strong bosom 

rend; 
Less keen those darts the fierce Ilythise 

send 
(The Powers that cause the teeming ma- 
tron's throes, 
Sad mothers of unutterable woes!), 350 

Stung with the smart, all panting with the 

pain. 
He mounts the car, and gives his squire the 

rein : 
Then with a voice which fury made more 

strong, 
And pain augmented, thus exhorts the 

throng: 
*0 friends! O Greeks! assert your hon- 
ours won; 
Proceed, and finish what this arm begun: 
Lo! angry Jove forbids your Chief to stay. 
And envies half the glories of the day.' 
He said, the driver whirls his lengthful 

thong: 
The horses fly, the chariot smokes along 360 



Clouds from their nostrils the fierce cours- 
ers blow. 
And from their sides the foam descends in 

snow; 
Shot thro' the battle in a moment's space, 
The wounded Monarch at his tent they 

place. 
No sooner Hector saw the King retired, 
But thus his Trojans and his aids he fired: 
* Hear, all ye Dardan, all ye Lycian race! 
Famed in close fight, and dreadful face to 

face; 
Now call to mind your ancient trophies won, 
Your great forefathers' virtues, and your 

own. 370 

Behold, the gen'ral flies, deserts his powers! 
Lo, Jove himself declares the conquest 

ours ! 
Now on yon ranks impel your foaming 

steeds; 
And, sure of glory, dare immortal deeds.' 
With words like these the fiery Chief 

alarms 
His fainting host, and ev'ry bosom warms. 
As the bold hunter cheers his hounds to 

tear 
The brindled lion, or the tusky bear. 
With voice and hand provokes their doubt- 
ing heart, 
And springs the foremost with his lifted 

dart: 380 

So godlike Hector prompts his troops to 

dare: 
Nor prompts alone, but leads himself the 

war. 
On the black body of the foes he pours; 
As from the cloud's deep bosom, swell'd 

with showers, 
A sudden storm the purple ocean sweeps. 
Drives the wild waves, and tosses all the 

deeps. 
Say, Muse! when Jove the Trojan's glory 

crown'd. 
Beneath his arm what heroes bit the 

ground ? 
Assaeus, Dolops, and Autonous died, 
Opites next was added to their side, 390 
Then brave Hipponous, famed in many a 

fight, 
Opheltius, Orus, sunk to endless night, 
^symnus, Agelaus; all Chiefs of name* 
The rest were vulgar deaths, unknown to 

fame. 
As when a western whirlwind, charged with 

storms, 



38o 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Dispels the gather'd clouds that Notus 

forms; 
The gust continued, violent, and strong, 
Rolls sable clouds in heaps on heaps along; 
Now to the skies the foaming billows rears. 
Now breaks the surge, and wide the bot- 
tom bares: 400 
Thus raging Hector, with resistless hands, 
O'erturns, confounds, and scatters all their 

bands. 
Now the last ruin the whole host appalls; 
Now Greece had trembled in her wooden 

walls; 
But wise Ulysses call'd Tydides forth, 
His soul rekindled, and awaked his worth: 

* And stand we deedless, O eternal shame! 
Till Hector's arm involve the ships in 

flame ? 
Haste, let us join, and combat side by side.' 
The warrior thus, and thus the friend re- 
plied: 410 

* No martial toil I shun, no danger fear; 
Let Hector come; I wait his fury here. 
But Jove with conquest crowns the Trojan 

train; 
And, Jove our foe, all human force is vain.' 
He sigh'd; but, sighing, rais'd his venge- 
ful steel. 
And from his car the proud Thymbrseus 

fell: 
Molion, the charioteer, pursued his lord. 
His death ennobled by Ulysses' sword. 
There slain, they left them in eternal night; 
Then plunged amidst the thickest ranks of 

fight. 420 

So two wild boars outstrip the foil' wing 

hounds. 
Then swift revert, and wounds return for 

wounds. 
Stern Hector's conquests in the middle 

plain 
Stood check'd awhile, and Greece respired 

again. 
The sons of Merops shone amidst the war; 
Tow'ring they rode in one refulgent car; 
In deep prophetic arts their father skill 'd. 
Had warn'd his children from the Trojan 

field; 
Fate urged them on; the father warn'd in 

vain. 
They rush'd to fight, and perish'd on the 

plain! 430 

Their breasts no more the vital spirit 

warms; • 
The stern Tydides strips their shining arms. 



Hypirochus by great Ulysses dies, 

And rich Hippodamus becomes his prize. 

Great Jove from Ide with slaughter fills 

his sight. 
And level hangs the doubtful scale of fight. 
By Tydeus' lance Agastrophus was slain, 
The far-famed hero of Pseonian strain; 
Wing'd with his fears, on foot he strove to 

%, . . 439 

His steeds too distant, and the foe too nigh ; 
Thro' broken orders, swifter than the wind. 
He fled, but, flying, left his life behind. 
This Hector sees, as his experienced eyes 
Traverse the files, and to the rescue flies; 
Shouts, as he pass'd, the crystal regions 

rend, 
And moving armies on his march attend. 
Great Diomed himself was seiz'd with fear. 
And thus bespoke his brother of the war: 

* Mark how this way yon bending squad- 

rons yield! 
The storm rolls on, and Hector rules the 

field: 450 

Here stand his utmost force ' — The war- 
rior said: 
Swift at the word his pond'rous jav'lin fled ; 
Nor raiss'd its aim, but, where the plumage 

danced. 
Razed the smooth cone, and thence obliquely 

glanced. 
Safe in his helm (the gift of Phoebus' 

hands) 
Without a wound the Trojan hero stands; 
But yet so stunn'd, that, stagg'ring on the 

plain, 
His arm and knee his sinking bulk sustain; 
O'er his dim sight the misty vapours rise. 
And a short darkness shades his swimming 

e3'es. 460 

Tydides follow'd to regain his lance; 
While Hector rose, recover'd from the 

trance. 
Remounts his car, and herds amidst the 

crowd; 
The Greek pursues him, and exults aloud: 

* Once more thank Phcebus for thy forfeit 

breath, 
Or thank that swiftness which outstrips the 

death. 
Well by Apollo are thy prayers repaid. 
And oft that partial power has lent his 

aid. 
Thou shalt not long the death deserv'd 

withstand. 
If any God assist Tydides' band. 470 



THE ILIAD 



Fly then, inglorious! but thy tlight, this day, 
Whole hecatombs of Trojan ghosts shall 

pay.' 
Him, while he triumph'd, Paris eyed from 

far, 
(The spouse of Helen, the fair cause of 

war) : 
Around the fields his feather'd shafts he 

sent, 
From ancient Ilus' ruin'd monument; 
Behind the column placed, he bent his bow. 
And wing'd an arrow at th' unwary foe: 
Just as he stoop'd, Agastrophus's crest 
To seize, and draw the corslet from his 

breast, 480 

The bow-string twang'd; nor flew the shaft 

in vain, 
But pierc'd his foot, and nail'd it to the 

plain. 
The laughing Trojan, with a joyful spring, 
Leaps from his ambush, and insults the 

King : 
* He bleeds!' (he cries) * some God has 

sped my dart; 
Would the same God had fix'd it in his 

heart! 
So Troy, reliev'd from that wide-wasting 

hand. 
Should breathe from slaughter, and in com- 
bat stand. 
Whose sons now tremble at his darted spear. 
As scatter'd lambs the rushing lion fear.' 
He dauntless thus: 'Thou conqueror of 

the Fair, 491 

Thou woman-warrior with the curling hair; 
Vain archer! trusting to tiie distant dart, 
Unskill'd in arms to act a manly part! 
Thou hast but done what boys or women 

can; 
Such hands may wound, but not incense a 

man. 
Nor boast the scratch thy feeble arrow 

gave, 
A coward's weapon never hurts the brave. 
Not so this dart, which thou may'st one day 

feel: 
Fate wings its flight, and death is on the 

steel. 500 

Where this but lights, some noble life ex- 
pires, 
Its touch makes orphans, bathes the cheeks 

of sires, 
Steeps earth in purple, gluts the birds of 

air, 
And leaves such objects as distract the fair.' 



Ulysses hastens with a trembling heart, 

Before him steps, and bending draws the 
dart: 

Forth flows the blood; an eager pang suc- 
ceeds: 

Tydides mounts, and to the navy speeds. 
Now on the field Ulysses stands alone. 

The Greeks all fled, the Trojans pouring 
on: 510 

But stands collected in himself and whole. 

And questions thus his own unconquer'd 
soul: 
* What farther subterfuge, what hopes 
remain ? 

What shame, inglorious if I quit the plain ? 

What danger, singly if I stand the ground, 

My friends all scatter'd, all the foes 
around ? 

Yet wherefore doubtful ? let this truth suf- 
fice: 

The brave meets danger, and the coward 
flies; 

To die, or conquer, proves a hero's heart; 

And, knowing this, I know a soldier's part.' 

Such thoughts revolving in his careful 

breast, 521 

Near, and more near, the shady cohorts 
press'd ; 

These, in the warrior, their own fate en- 
close: 

And round him deep the steely circle grows. 

So fares a boar, whom all the troop sur- 
rounds 

Of shouting huntsmen, and of clam'rous 
hounds; 

He grinds his iv'ry tusks; he foams with 
ire; 

His sanguine eyeballs glare with living fire; 

By these, by those, on every pai-t is plied; 

And the red slaughter spreads on every 
side. 530 

Pierc'd thro* the shoulder, first Deiopis 
fell; 

Next Ennomus and Thodn sunk to hell; 

Chersidamas, beneath the navel thrust. 

Falls prone to earth, and grasps the bloody 
dust. 

Charops, the son of Hippasus, was near; 

Ulysses reaeh'd him with the fatal spear; 

But to his aid his brother Socus flies, 

Socus, the brave, the gen'rous, and the 
wise : 

Near as he drew, the warrior thus began: 
'O great Ulysses, much-enduring man! 

Not deeper skill'd in every martial sleight, 



382 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Than worn to toils, and active in the 

fight! 542 

This day two brothers shall thy conquest 

grace, 
And end at once the great Hippasian race. 
Or thou beneath this lance must press the 

field.' 
He said, and forceful pierc'd his spacious 

shield; 
Thro' the strong brass the ringing jav'lin 

thrown, 
Plough'd half his side, and bared it to the 

bone. 
By Pallas' care, the spear, tho' deep infix'd, 
Stopp'd short of life, nor with his entrails 

mix'd, 550 

The wound not mortal wise Ulysses knew. 
Then furious thus (but first some steps 

withdrew): 
'Unhappy man! whose death our hands 

shall grace! 
Fate calls thee hence, and finish'd is thy 

race. 
No longer check my conquests on the foe:' 
But, pierc'd by this, to endless darkness 

go.. 
And add one spectre to the realms below ! ' 
He spoke, while Socus, seiz'd with sud- 
den fright. 
Trembling gave way, and turn'd his back 

to fiight. 
Between his shoulders pierc'd the foll'wing 

dart, 560 

And held its passage thro' the panting 

heart. 
Wide in his breast appear'd the grizzly 

wound ; 
He falls: his armour rings against the 

ground. 
Then thus Ulysses, gazing on the slain: 
* Famed son of Hippasus! there press the 

plain ; 
There ends thy narrow span assign'd by 

fate: 
Heav'n owes Ulysses yet a longer date. 
Ah wretch! no father shall thy corpse com- 
pose. 
Thy dying eyes no tender mother close, 
But hungry birds shall tear those balls 

away, 570 

And hov'ring vultures scream around their 

prey. 
Me Greece shall honour, when I meet my 

doom, 
With solemn funerals, and a lasting tomb.' 



Then, raging with intolerable smart. 
He writhes his body, and extracts the dart. 
The dart a tide of spouting gore pursued, 
And gladden'd Troy with sight of hostile 

blood. 
Now troops on troops the fainting Chief 

invade; 
Forced he recedes, and loudly calls for 

. aid. 
Thrice to its pitch his lofty voice he 

rears; 580 

The well-known voice thrice Menelaus 

hears ; 
Alarm'd, to Ajax Telamon he cried. 
Who shares his labours, and defends his 

side: 
*0 friend! Ulysses' shouts invade my ear; 
Distress'd he seems, and no assistance 

near: 
Strong as he is, yet, one opposed to all, 
Oppress'd by multitudes, the best may fall. 
Greece, robb'd of him, must bid her host 

despair, 
And feel a loss not ages can repair.' 
Then, where the cry directs, his course he 

bends, 590 

Great Ajax, like the God of War, attends. 
The prudent Chief in sore distress they 

found. 
With bands of furious Trojans compass'd 

round. 
As when some huntsman, with a flying 

spear, 
From the blind thicket wounds a stately 

deer; 
Down his cleft side while fresh the blood 

distils, 
He bounds aloft, and scuds from hills to 

hills: 
Till, life's warm vapour issuing thro' the 

wound, 
Wild mountain-wolves the fainting beast 

surround ; 
Just as their jaws his prostrate limbs in- 
vade, 600 
The lion rushes thro' the woodland shade; 
The wolves, tho' hungry, scour dispers'd 

away ; 
The lordly savage vindicates his prey. 
Ulysses thus, unconquer'd by his pains, 
A single warrior, half a host sustains: 
But soon as Ajax heaves his tower-like 

shield, 
The scatter'd crowds flv frighted o'er the 

field: 



THE ILIAD 



383 



Atrides' arm the sinking hero stays, 
And, saved from numbers, to his car con- 
veys. 609 
Victorious Ajax plies the routed crew; 
And first Doryclus, Priam's son, he slew: 
On strong Pandocus next inflicts a wound, 
And lays Lysander bleeding on the ground. 
As when a torrent, swell'd with wintry rains, 
Pours from the mountains o'er the deluged 

plains. 
And pines and oaks, from their foundation 

torn, 
A country's ruins! to the seas are borne: 
Fierce Ajax thus o'erwhelms the yielding 

throng; 
Men, steeds, and chariots, roll in heaps 

along. 
But Hector, from this scene of slaughter 

far, 620 

Raged on the left, and ruled the tide of 

war: 
Loud groans proclaim his progress thro' 

the plain. 
And deep Scamander swells with heaps of 

slain. 
There Nestor and Idomeneus oppose 
The warrior's fury; there the battle glows; 
There fierce on foot, or from the chariot's 

height. 
His sword deforms the beauteous ranks of 

fight. 
The spouse of Helen, dealing darts around. 
Had pierc'd Machaon with a distant wound: 
In his right shoulder the broad shaft ap- 

pear'd, 630 

And trembling Greece for her physician 

fear'd. 
To Nestor then Idomeneus begun: 
'Glory of Greece, old Neleus' valiant son! 
Ascend thy chariot, haste with speed away. 
And great Machaon to the ships convey. 
A wise physician, skill'd our wounds to heal. 
Is more than armies to the public weal.' 
Old Nestor momits the seat. Beside 

him rode 
The wounded offspring of the healing God. 
He lends the lash; the steeds witli sound- 
ing feet 640 
Shake the dry field, and thunder toward 

the fleet. 
But now Cebriones, from Hector's car, 
Snrvey'd the various fortune of the war. 
* While here' (he cried) 'the flying Greeks 

are slain, 
Trojans on Trojans yonder load the plain. 



Before great Ajax, see the mingled throng 
Of men and chariots driv'n in heaps along! 
I know him well, distinguish'd o'er the 

field 
By the broad glitt'ring of the sev'ufold 

shield. 
Thither, O Hector, thither urge thy 

steeds, 650 

There danger calls, and there the combat 

bleeds; 
There horse and foot in mingled deaths 

unite. 
And groans of slaughter mix with shouts of 

fight.' 
Thus having spoke, the driver's lash re- 
sounds; 
Swift thro' the ranks the rapid chariot 

bounds; 
Stung by the stroke, the coursers scour the 

fields. 
O'er heaps of carcases, and hills of shields. 
The horses' hoofs are bathed in heroes' 

gore. 
And, dashing, purple all the car before : 
The groaning axle sable drops distils, 660 
And mangled carnage clogs the rapid 

wheels. 
Here Hector, plunging thro' the thickest 

fight. 
Broke the dark phalanx, and let in the 

light: 
(By the long lance, the sword, or pond'rous 

stone. 
The ranks lie scatter'd, and the troops o'er- 

thrown.) 
Ajax he shuns, thro' all the dire debate, 
And fears that arm whose force he felt so 

late. 
But partial Jove, espousing Hector's part. 
Shot Heav'n-bred horror thro' the Grecian's 

heart; 
Confused, unnerv'd in Hector's presence 

grown, 670 

Amazed he stood, with terrors not his own. 
O'er his broad back his moony shield he 

threw. 
And, glaring round, by tardy steps with- 
drew. 
Thus the grim lion his retreat maintains. 
Beset with watchful dogs and shouting 

swains, 
Repuls'd by numbers from the nightly 

stalls, 
Tho' rage impels him, and the' hunger 

calls. 



384 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Long stands the show'ring darts, and mis- 
sile fires; 

Then sourly slow th' indignant beast re- 
tires. 

So turn'd stern Ajax, by whole hosts re- 
pell'd, 680 

While his swoln heart at every step re- 
bell'd. 
As the slow beast, with heavy strength 
endued, 

In some wide field by troops of boys pur- 
sued, 

Tho' round his sides a wooden tempest 
rain, 

Crops the tall harvest, and lays waste the 
plain ; 

Thick on his hide the hollow blows re- 
sound; 

The patient animal maintains his ground ; 

Scarce from the field with all their efforts 
chased. 

And stirs but slowly when he stirs at last. 

On Ajax thus a weight of Trojans hung, 690 

The strokes redoubled on his buckler rung; 

Confiding now in bulky strength he stands, 

Now turns, and backward bears the yield- 
ing bands; 

Now stifi: recedes, yet hardly seems to fly. 

And threats his foll'wers with retorted 
eye. 

Fix'd as the bar between two warring 
powers. 

While hissing darts descend in iron 
showers: 

In his broad buckler many a weapon stood. 

Its surface bristled with a quiv'ring wood; 

And many a jav'lin, guiltless on the 
plain, 700 

Marks the dry dust, and thirsts for blood 
in vain. 

But bold Eurypylus his aid imparts, 

And dauntless springs beneath a cloud of 
darts ; 

Whose eager jav'lin launch'd against the 
foe, 

Great Apisaon felt the fatal blow; 

From his torn liver the red current flow'd, 

And his slack knees desert their dying 
load. 

The victor rushing to despoil the dead, 

From Paris' bow a vengeful arrow fled: 

Fix'd in his nervous thigh the weapon 
stood, 710 

Fix'd was the point, but broken was the 
wood. 



Back to the lines the wounded Greek re- 
tired. 

Yet thus, retreating, his associates fired : 

* What God, O Grecians! has your hearts 
dismay'd ? 

Oh, turn to arms; 'tis Ajax claims your 
aid. 

This hour he stands the mark of hostile 
rage. 

And this the last brave battle he shall 
wage : 

Haste, join your forces; from the gloomy 
grave 

The warrior rescue, and your country 
save.' 
Thus urged the Chief; a gen'rous troop 
appears, 720 

Who spread their bucklers, and advance 
their spears. 

To guard their wounded friend : while thus 
they stand 

With pious care, great Ajax joins the band: 

Each takes new courage at the hero's sight; 

The hero rallies and renews the fight. 
Thus raged both armies like conflicting 
fires, 

W^hile Nestor's chariot far from fight re- 
tires: 

His coursers steep'd in sweat, and stain'd 
with gore. 

The Greeks' preserver, great Machaon, 
bore. 

That hour, Achilles, from the topmost 
height 730 

Of his proud fleet, o'erlook'd the fields of 
fight; 

His feasted eyes beheld around the plain 

The Grecian rout, the slaying, and the 
slain. 

His friend Machaon singled from the rest, 

A transient pity touch'd his vengeful breast. 

Straiffht to Menoetius' much-lov'd son he 
sent; 

Graceful as Mars, Patroclus quits his tent: 

In evil hour! then Fate decreed his doom; 

And fix'd the date of all his woes to come! 
' Why calls my friend ? thy lov'd injunc- 
tions lay; 740 

Whate'er thy will, Patroclus shall obey.' 
* O first of friends ! ' (Pelides thus re- 
plied) 

' Still at my heart, and ever at my side I 

The time is come, when yon despairing 
host 

Shall learn the value of the man they lost: 



THE ILIAD 



385 



Now at my knees the Greeks shall pour 

their moan, 
And proud Atrides tremble on his throne. 
Go now to Nestor, and from him be taught 
What wounded warrior late his chariot 

brought ? 749 

For, seen at distance, and but seen behind, 
His form recall'd Machaon to my mind; 
Nor could I, thro' yon cloud, discern his 

face, 
The coursers pass'd me with so swift a 

pace.' 
The hero said. His friend obey'd with 

haste; 
Thro' intermingled ships and tents he 

pass'd; 
The Chiefs descending from their car he 

found; 
The panting steeds Eurymedon unbound. 
The warriors, standing on the breezy shore. 
To dry their sweat, and wash away the 

gore. 
Here paus'd a moment, while the gentle 

gale 760 

Convey'd that freshness the cool seas ex- 
hale; 
Then to consult on farther methods went. 
And took their seats beneath the shady 

tent. 
The draught prescribed fair Hecamede 

prepares, 
Arsinous' daughter, graced with golden 

hairs; 
(Whom to his aged arms, a royal slave, 
Greece, as the prize of Nestor's wisdom, 

gave;) 
A table first with azure feet she placed; 
Whose ample orb a brazen charger graced: 
Honey new press'd, the sacred flower of 

wheat, 770 

And wholesome garlicks crown'd the sav'ry 

treat. 
Next her white hand an antique goblet 

brings, 
A goblet sacred to the Pylian Kings, 
From eldest times: emboss'd with studs of 

gold, 
Two feet support it, and four handles hold; 
On each bright handle, bending o'er the 

brink. 
In sculptured gold, two turtles seem to 

drink: 
A massy weight, yet heav'd with ease by 

him, 
When the brisk nectar overlook'd the brim. 



Temper'd in this, the nymph of form 
divine 780 

Pours a large portion of the Pramniau 
wine ; 

With goat's-milk cheese a flav'rous taste 
bestows. 

And last with flour the smiling surface 
strews. 

This for the wounded Prince the dame pre- 
pares ; 

The cordial bev'rage rev'rend Nestor shares: 

Salubrious draughts the warrior's thirst 
allay. 

And pleasing conference beguiles the day. 
Meantime Patroclus, by Achilles sent, 

Unheard approach'd, and stood before the 
tent. 

Old Nestor, rising then, the hero led 790 

To his high seat; the Chief refused, and said: 

* 'Tis now no season for these kind de- 

lays; 
The great Achilles with impatience stays. 
To great Achilles this respect I owe; 
Who asks what hero, wounded by the foe. 
Was borne from combat by thy foaming 

steeds ? 
With grief I see the great Machaon bleeds. 
This to report, my hasty course I bend; 
Thou know'st the fiery temper of my 

friend.' 

* Can then the sons of Greece ' (the sage 

rejoin'd) Soo 

' Excite compassion in Achilles' mind ? 
Seeks he the sorrows of our host to know ? 
This is not half the story of our woe. 
Tell him, not great Machaon bleeds alone, 
Our bravest heroes in the navy groan; 
Ulysses, Agamemnon, Diomed, 
And stern Eurypylus, already bleed. 
But ah! what flatt'ring hopes I entertain! 
Achilles heeds not, but derides our pain; 
Ev'n till the flames consume our fleet he 

stays, 810 

And waits the rising of the fatal blaze. 
Chief after Chief the raging foe destroys; 
Calm he looks on, and ev'ry death enjoys. 
Now the slow course of all-impairing time 
Unstrings my nerves, and ends my manly 

prime ; 
Oh! had I still that strength my youth 

possess'd, 
When this bold arm th' Epeian powers op- 

press'd. 
The bulls of Elis in glad triumph led. 
And stretch'd the great Itymonfeus dead! 



386 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



* Then, from my fury fled the trembling 

swains, 820 

And ours was all the plunder of the plains: 
Fifty white flocks, full fifty herds of swine, 
As many goats, as many lowing kine: 
And thrice the number of unrivall'd steeds, 
All teeming females, and of gen'rous 

breeds. 
These, as my first essay of arms, I won; 
Old Neleus gloried in his conquering son. 
Thus Elis forc'd, her long arrears restor'd, 
And shares were parted to each Pylian 

lord. 
The state of Pyle was sunk to last despair, 
When the proud Elians first commenced 

the war. 831 

For Neleus' sons Alcides' rage had slain ; 
Of twelve bold brothers, I alone remain ! 
Oppress'd, we arm'd; and now, this con- 
quest gain'd. 
My sire three hundred chosen sheep ob- 

tain'd. 
(That large reprisal he might justly claim. 
For prize defrauded, and insulted fame; 
When Elis' monarch at the public course 
Detain'd his chariot, and victorious horse.) 
The rest the people shared; myself sur- 

vey'd S40 

The just partition, and due victims paid. 
Three days were past, when Elis rose to 

war, 
With many a courser, and with many a car; 
The sons of Actor at their army's head 
(Young as they were) the vengeful squad- 
rons led. 
High on a rock fair Thryoessa stands, 
Our utmost frontier on the Pylitin lands; 
Not far the streams of famed Alph^us 

flow; 
The stream they pass'd, and pitch'd their 

tents below; 
Pallas, descending in the shades of night. 
Alarms the Pylians, and commands the 

fight. 851 

Each burns for Fame, and swells with 

martial pride; 
Myself the foremost; but my sire denied; 
Fear'd for my youth, exposed to stern 

alarms, 
And stopp'd my chariot, and detain'd my 

arms. 
My sire denied in vain: on foot I fled 
Amidst our chariots: for the Goddess led. 

* Along fair Arene's delightful plain. 
Soft Minyas rolls his waters to the main. 



There, horse and foot, the Pylian troops 

unite, 860 

And, sheathed in arms, expect the dawning 

light. 
Thence, ere the sun advanc'd his noon-day 

flame. 
To great Alphseus' sacred source we came. 
There first to Jove our solemn rites were 

paid; 
An untamed heifer pleas'd the Blue-eyed 

Maid, 
A bull Alphffius; and a bull was slain 
To the blue Monarch of the wat'ry Main. 
In arms we slept, beside the winding flood, 
While round the town the fierce Epeians 

stood. 
Soon as the sun, with all-revealing ray, 870 
Flamed in the front of Heav'u, and gave 

the day, 
Bright scenes of arms, and works of war 

appear; 
The nations meet; there Pylos, Elis here. 
The first who fell, beneath my jav'lin bled; 
King Augias' son, and spouse of Agamede: 
(She that all simples' healing virtues knew, 
And every herb that drinks the morning 

dew.) 
I seiz'd his car, the van of battle led; 
Th' Epeians saw, they trembled, and they 

fled. 
The foe dispers'd, their bravest warrior 

kill'd, 880 

Fierce as a whirlwind now I swept the 

field: 
Full fifty captive chariots graced my train; 
Two Chiefs from each fell breathless to the 

plain. 
Then Actor's sons had died, but Neptune 

shrouds 
The youthful heroes in a veil of clouds. 
O'er heapy shields, and o'er the prostrate 

throng. 
Collecting spoils, and slaught'ring all 

along, 
Thro' wide Buprasian fields we forc'd the ' 

foes, 
Where o'er the vales th' Olenian rocks 

arose ; 

Till Pallas stopp'd us where Alisium flows. ^ 
Ev'n there, the hindmost of their rear I " 

slay, 891 

And the same arm that led, concludes the 

day; 
Then back to Pyle triumphant take my 

way. 



THE ILIAD 



387 



There to high Jove were public thanks as- 
sign 'd 
As first of Gods; to Nestor, of mankind. 
Such then I was, impell'd by youthful 

blood: 
So prov'd my valour for my country's good. 
Achilles with inactive fury glows, 
And gives to passion what to Greece he 

owes. 
How shall he grieve, when to tli' eternal 

shade 900 

Her hosts shall sink, nor his the power to 

aid? 
O friend! my memory recalls the day, 
When, gath'ring aids along the Grecian sea, 
I, and Ulysses, touch'd at Phthia's port, 
And enter'd Peleus' hospitable court. 
A bull to Jove he slew in sacrifice. 
And pour'd libations on the flaming thighs. 
Thyself, Achilles, and thy rev'rend sire 
Menoetius, turn'd the fragments on the fire. 
Achilles sees us, to the feast invites; 910 
Social we sit, and share the genial rites. 
We then explain'd the cause ou which we 

came. 
Urged you to arms, and found you fierce 

for fame. 
Your ancient fathers gen'rous precepts gave : 
Peleus said only this: " My son! be brave," 
Menoetius thus: " Tho' great Achilles shine 
In strength superior, and of race divine. 
Yet cooler thoughts thy elder years attend ; 
Let thy just counsels aid, and rule thy 

friend." 
Thus spoke your father at Thessalia's 

court; 920 

Words now forgot, tho' now of vast import. 
Ah! try the utmost that a friend can say, 
Such gentle force the fiercest minds obey; 
Some fav'ring God Achilles' heart may 

move; 
Tho' deaf to glory, he may yield to love. 
If some dire oracle his breast alarm. 
If aught from Heav'n withhold his saving 

arm; 
Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may 

shine, 
If thou but lead the Myrmidonian line; 
Clad in Achilles' arms, if thou appear, 930 
Proud Troy may tremble, and desist from 

war! 
Press'd by fresh forces, her o'erlabour'd 

train 
Shall seek their walls, and Greece respire 

again.' 



This touch'd his gen'rous heart, and from 

the tent 
Along the shore with hasty strides he went; 
Soon as he came, where, on the crowded 

strand. 
The public mart and courts of justice stand, 
Where the tall fleet of great Ulysses lies. 
And altars to the guardian Gods arise; 
There sad he met the brave Evaenion's son; 
Large painful drops from all his members 

run; 941 

An arrow's head yet rooted in his wound, 
The sable blood in circles mark'd the 

ground. 
As, faintly reeling, he confess'd the smart: 
Weak was his pace, but dauntless was his 

heart. 
Divine compassion touch'd Patroclus' 

breast, 
Who, sighing, thus his bleeding friend ad- 

dress'd: 
* Ah, hapless leaders of the Grecian host! 
Thus must ye perish on a barb'rous coast ? 
Is this your fate, to glut the dogs with 

gore, ^ 950 

Far from your friends, and from your na- 
tive shore ? 
Say, great Eurypylus! shall Greece yet 

stand ? 
Resists she yet the raging Hector's hand ? 
Or are her heroes doom'd to die with 

shame. 
And this the period of our wars and fame ? ' 
Eurypylus replies: ' No more, my friend, 
Greece is no more! this day her glories end. 
Ev'n to the ships victorious Troy pursues, 
Her force increasing as her toil renews. 
Those Chiefs, that used her utmost rage to 

meet, 960 

Lie pierc'd with wounds, and bleeding in 

the fleet. 
But thou, Patroclus! act a friendly part, 
Lead to my ships, and draw this deadly 

dart; 
With lukewarm water wash the gore away, 
With healing balms the raging smart allay. 
Such as sage Chiron, sire of pharmacy. 
Once taught Achilles, and Achilles thee. 
Of two famed surgeons, Podalirius stands 
This hour surrounded by the Trojan bands; 
And great Machaon, wounded in his tent. 
Now wants that succour which so oft he 

lent.' 971 

To whom the Chief: ' What then remains 

to do? 



388 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Th' event of things the Gods alone can 

view. 
Charged by Achilles' great command I 

fly, 

And bear with haste the Pylian King's re- 

But thy distress this instant claims relief.' 

He said, and in his arms upheld the Chief. 

The slaves their master's slow approach 
survey 'd, 

And hides of oxen on the floor displayed: 

There stretch'd at length the wounded hero 
lay; 980 

Patroclus cut the forky steel away. 

Then in his hands a bitter root he bruis'd; 

The wound he wash'd, the styptic juice in- 
fused. 

The closing flesh that instant ceas'd to 
glow, 

The wound to torture, and the blood to 
flow. 



BOOK XII 

THE BATTLE AT THE GRECIAN WALL 
THE ARGUMENT 

The Greeks being- retired into their entrench- 
ments, Hector attempts to force them ; but 
it proving' impossible to pass the ditch, Poly- 
damas advises to quit their chariots, and 
manage the attack on foot. The Trojans 
follow his coimsel, and having divided their 
army into five bodies of foot, begin the as- 
sault. But upon the signal of an eagle with 
a serpent in his talons, which appeared on 
the left hand of the Trojans, Polydaraas en- 
deavours to withdraw them again. This Hec- 
tor opposes, and continues the attack; in 
which, after many actions, Sarpedon makes 
the first breach in the wall : Hector also, 
casting a stone of a vast size, forces open one 
of the gates, and enters at the head of his 
troops, who victoriously pursue the Grecians 
even to their ships. 

While thus the hero's pious cares at- 
tend 

The cure and safety of his wounded friend, 

Trojans and Greeks with clashing shields 
engage, 

And mutual deaths are dealt with mutual 
rage. 

Nor long the trench or lofty walls oppose; 

With Gods averse th' ill-fated works arose ; 



Their powers neglected, and no victim slain, 

The walls are rais'd, the trenches sunk, in 
vain. 
Without the Gods, how short a period 
stands 

The proudest monument of mortal hands! 

This stood, while Hector and Achilles 
raged, u 

While sacred Troy the warring hosts en- 
gaged; 

But when her sons were slain, her city 
burn'd. 

And what survived of Greece to Greece re- 
turn 'd ; 

Then Neptune and Apollo shook the shore. 

Then Ida's summits pour'd their wat'ry 
store; 

Rhesus and Rhodius then unite their rills, 

Caresus roaring down the stony hills, 

-^sepus, Granicns, with mingled force. 

And Xanthus foaming from his fruitful 
source; 20 

And gulfy Simois, rolling to the main 

Helmets, and shields, and godlike heroes 
slain : 

These, turn'd by Phoebus from their wonted 
ways. 

Deluged tlie rampire nine continual days; 

The weight of waters saps the yielding 
wall, 

And to the sea the floating bulwarks fall. 

Incessant cataracts the Thund'rer pours. 

And half the skies descend in sluicy show- 
ers. 
The God of Ocean, marching stern be- 
fore, 

With his hucre trident wounds the tremblinfj 
shore, 30 

Vast stones and piles from their foundation 
heaves, 

And whelms the smoky ruin in the waves. 

Now, sraooth'd with sand, and levell'd by 
the flood. 

No fragment tells where once the wonder 
stood; 

In their old bounds the rivers roll again, 

Shine 'twixt the hills, or wander o'er the 
plain. 
But this the Gods in later times perform; 

As yet the bulwark stood, and braved the 
storm! 

The strokes yet echoed of contending 
powers; 

War thunder'd at the gates, and blood dis- 
tain'd the towers. 40 



THE ILIAD 



389 



Smote by the arm of Jove, and dire dis- 
may, 
Close by their hollow ships the Grecians lay; 
Hector's approach in every wind they hear, 
And Hector's fury every moment fear. 
He, like a whirlwind, toss'd the scatt'ring 

throng, 
Mingled the troops, and drove the field 

along, 
So, 'midst the dogs and hunters' daring 

bands, 
Fierce of his might, a boar or lion stands; 
Arm'd foes around a dreadful circle form. 
And hissing jav'lins rain an iron storm; 50 
His powers untamed their bold assault defy, 
And, where he turns, the rout disperse, or 

die: 
He foams, he glares, he bounds against 

them all. 
And, if he falls, his courage makes him fall. 
With equal rage encompass'd Hector glows; 
Exhorts his armies, and the trenches shows. 
The panting steeds impatient fury breathe, 
But snort and tremble at the gulf beneatli; 
Just on the brink, they neigh, and paw the 

ground. 
And the turf trembles, and the skies re- 
sound. 60 
Eager they view'd the prospect dark and 

deep, 
Vast was the leap, and headlong hung the 

steep; 
The bottom bare (a formidable show)! 
And bristled thick with sharpen'd stakes 

below. 
The foot alone this strong defence could 

force. 
And try the pass impervious to the horse. 
This saw Polydamas; who, wisely brave, 
Restrain'd great Hector, and this counsel 

gave : 
*0 thou! bold leader of our Trojan 

bands, 
And you, coufed'rate Chiefs from foreign 

lands! 70 

What entrance here can cumbrous chariots 

find. 
The stakes beneath, the Grecian walls be- 
hind ? 
No pass thro' those without a thousand 

wounds; 
No space for combat in yon narrow bounds. 
Proud of the favours mighty Jove has 

shown, 
On certain dangers we too rashly run: 



If 't is his will our haughty foes to tame, 
O may this instant end the Grecian name! 
Here, far from Argos, let their heroes 
fall, 79 

And one great day destroy, and bury all! 
But should they turn, and here oppress our 

train, 
What hopes, what methods of retreat re- 
main ? 
Wedg'd in the trench, by our own troops 

confused. 
In one promiscuous carnage crush'd and 

bruis'd, 
All Troy must perish, if their arms pre- 
vail. 
Nor shall a Trojan live to tell the tale. 
Hear then, ye warriors! and obey with 

speed; 
Back from tlie trenches let your steeds be 

led; 
Then all alighting, wedg'd in firm array. 
Proceed on foot, and Hector lead the 
way. 90 

So Greece shall stoop before our conquer- 
ing power, 
And this (if Jove consent) her fatal hour.' 
This counsel pleas'd: the godlike Hector 
sprung 
Swift from his seat; his clanging armour 

rung. 
The Chief's example follow'd by his train. 
Each quits his car, and issues on the plain. 
By orders strict the charioteers enjoin'd. 
Compel the coursers to their ranks behind. 
The forces part in five distinguish'd bands. 
And all obey their sev'ral Chiefs' com- 
mands, 100 
The best and bravest in the first conspire. 
Pant for the fight, and threat the fleet with 

fire: 
Great Hector glorious in the van of these, 
Polydamas, and brave Cebriones. 
Before the next the graceful Paris shines, 
And bold Alcathoiis, and Agenor joiivs. 
The sons of Priam with the third appear, 
Deiphobus, and Helenus the seer; 
In arms with these the mighty Asius stood. 
Who drew from Hyrtacus his noble 
blood, no 

And whom Arisba's yellow coursers bore. 
The coursers fed on Selle's winding shore. 
Antenor's sons the fourth battalion guide, 
And great iEneas, born on fountful Ide. 
Divine Sarpedon the last band obey'd, 
Whom Glaucus and Asteropseus aid; 



39° 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Next him, the bravest at their army's 

head, 
But he more brave than all the hosts he 

led. 
Now, with compacted shields, in close 

array, 
The moving legions speed their headlong 

way: 120 

Already in their hopes they fire the fleet, 
And see the Grecians gasping at their feet. 
While every Trojan thus, and every aid, 
Th' advice of wise Polydamas obey'd; 
Asius alone, confiding in his car, 
His vaunted coursers urged to meet the 

war. 
Unhappy hero! and advised in vain! 
Those wheels returning ne'er shall mark 

the plain; 
No more those coursers with triumphant 

joy 

Restore their master to the gates of 
Troy J 130 

Black death attends behind the Grecian 
wall. 

And great Idomeneus shall boast thy fall! 

Fierce to the left he drives, where from the 
plain 

The flying Grecians strove their ships to 
gain; 

Swift thro' the wall their horse and chari- 
ots past, 

The gates half-open'd to receive the last. 

Thither, exulting in his force, he flies; 

His foil' wing host with clamours rend the 
skies: 

To plunge the Grecians headlong in the 
main. 

Such their proud hopes, but all their hopes 
were vain! 140 

To guard the gates, two mighty Chiefs 
attend. 

Who from the Lapiths' warlike race de- 
scend ; 

This Polypcetes, great Perithous' heir. 

And that Leonteus, like the God of War. 

As two tall oaks, before the wall they rise; 

Their roots in earth, their heads amidst 
the skies: 

Whose spreading arms, with leafy honours 
crown'd. 

Forbid the tempest, and protect the 
ground; 

High on the hills appears their stately form, 

And their deep roots for ever brave the 
storm. 150 



So graceful these, and so the shock they 

stand 
Of raging Asius, and his furious band. 
Orestes, Acamas, in front appear. 
And (Enomaus and Thoon close the rear. 
In vain their clamours shake the ambient 

fields, 
In vain around them beat their hollow 

shields; 
The fearless brothers on the Grecians call, 
To guard their navies, and defend their 

wall. 
Ev'n when they saw Troy's sable troops 

impend. 
And Greece tumultuous from her towers 

descend, 160 

Forth from the portals rush'd th' intrepid 

pair, 
Opposed their breasts, and stood them- 
selves the war. 
So two wild boars spring furious from their 

den, 
Rous'd with the cries of dogs, and voice of 

men; 
On every side the crackling trees they tear, 
And root the shrubs, and lay the forest 

bare; 
They gnash their tusks, with fire their eye- 
balls roll. 
Till some wide wound lets out their mighty 

soul. 
Around their heads the whistling jav'lins 

sung; 
With sounding strokes their brazen targets 

rung: 170 

Fierce was the fight, while yet the Grecian 

powers 
Maintain'd the walls, and mann'd the lofty 

towers : 
To save their fleet, the last efforts they 

try. 
And stones and darts in mingled tempests 

fly. 

As when sharp Boreas blows abroad, and 

brings 
The dreary winter on his frozen wings; 
Beneath the low-lnmg clouds the sheets of 

snow 
Descend, and whiten all the fields below: 
So fast the darts on either army pour. 
So down the rampires rolls the rocky 

shower; 180 

Heavy, and thick, resound the batter'd 

shields. 
And the deaf echo rattles round the fields. 



THE ILIAD 



391 



With shame repuls'd, with grief and fury 

driv'n, 
The frantic Asius thus accuses Heav'n: 
' In powers immortal who shall now be- 
lieve ? 
Can those too flatter, and can Jove de- 
ceive ? 
What man can doubt but Troy's victorious 

power 
Should humble Greece, and this her fatal 

hour ? 
But like when wasps from hollow crannies 

drive. 
To guard the entrance of their common 

hive, 190 

Dark'ning the rock, while, with unwearied 

wings. 
They strike th' assailants, and infix their 

stings; 
A race determin'd, that to death contend: 
So fierce, these Greeks their last retreat 

defend. 
Gods! shall two warriors only guard their 

gates. 
Repel an army, and defraud the fates ? ' 
These empty accents mingled with the 

wind. 
Nor mov'd great Jove's unalterable mind ; 
To godlike Hector and his matchless 

might 199 

Was owed the glory of the destin'd fight. 
Like deeds of arms thro' all the forts were 

tried. 
And all the gates sustain'd an equal tide; 
Thro' the long walls the stony showers 

were heard. 
The blaze of flames, the flash of a^rms, ap- 

pear'd. 
The spirit of a God my breast inspire. 
To raise each act to life, and sing with fire! 
While Greece unconquer'd kept alive the 

war, 
Secure of death, confidi^ng in despair; 
And all her guardian Gods, in deep dis- 
may, 209 
With unassisting arms deplor'd the day. 

Ev'n yet the dauntless Lapithae maintain 
The dreadful pass, and round them heap 

the slain. 
First Damasus, by Polypcetes' steel 
Pierc'd thro' his helmet's brazen vizor, fell; 
The weapon drank the mingled brains and 

gore; 
The warrior sinks, tremendous now no 

more! 



Next Ormenus and Pylon yield their 

breath : 
Nor less Leonteus strews the field with 

death; 
First thro' the belt Hippomachus he 

gor'd, 219 

Then sudden waved his unresisted sword; 
Antiphates, as thro' the ranks he broke. 
The falchion struck, and Fate pursued the 

stroke ; 
lamenus, Orestes, Menon, bled; 
And round him rose a monument of dead. 
Meantime, the bravest of the Trojan 

crew 
Bold Hector and Polydamas pursue; 
Fierce with impatience on the works to 

fall. 
And wrap in rolling flames the fleet and 

wall. 
These on the farther bank now stood and 

gazed, 229 

By Heav'n alarni'd, by prodigies amazed: 
A signal omen stopp'd the passing host. 
Their martial fury in their wonder lost. 
Jove's bird on sounding pinions beat the 

skies, 
A bleeding serpent of enormous size 
His talons truss'd; alive, and curling 

round, 
He stung the bird, whose throat receiv'd 

the wound: 
Mad with the smart, he drops the fatal prey, 
In airy circles wings his painful way, 
Floats on the winds, and rends the Heav'ns 

with cries; 
Amidst the host the fallen serpent lies: 240 
They, pale with terror, mark its spires un- 

roll'd 
And Jove's portent with beating hearts 

behold. 
Then first Polydamas the silence broke. 
Long weigh'd the signal, and to Hector 

spoke: 
* How oft, my brother, thy reproach I 

bear, 
For words well meant, and sentiments sin- 
cere ? 
True to those counsels which I judge the 

best, 
I tell the faithful dictates of my breast. 
To speak his thoughts, is every freeman's 

right, _ 249 

In peace and war, in council and in fight; 
And all I move, deferring to thy sway. 
But tends to raise that power which I obey. 



392 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Then hear my words, nor may my words 

be vain; 
Seek not, this day, the Grecian ships to 

gain; 
For sure to warn us Jove his omen sent. 
And thus my mind explains its clear event. 
The victor eagle, whose sinister flight 
Retards our host, and fills our hearts with 

fright, 
Dismiss'd his conquest in the middle skies, 
Allow'd to seize, but not possess, the prize; 
Thus, tho' we gird with fires the Grecian 

fleet, 261 

Tho' these proud bulwarks tumble at our 

feet, 
Toils unforeseen, and fiercer, are decreed; 
More woes shall follow, and more heroes 

bleed. 
So bodes my soul, and bids me thus advise; 
For thus a skilful seer would read the 

skies.' 
To him then Hector with disdain re- 

turn'd : 
(Fierce as he spoke, his eyes with fury 

burn'd): 
* Are these the faithful counsels of thy 

tongue ? 269 

Thy will is partial, not thy reason wrong: 
Or if the purpose of thy heart thou vent. 
Sure Heav'n resumes the little sense it 

lent. 
What coward counsels would thy madness 

move. 
Against the word, the will reveal'd of 

Jove ? 
The leading sign, th' irrevocable nod, 
And happy thunders of the fav'ring God, 
These shall I slight ? and guide my wav'r- 

ing mind 
By wand'ring birds, that flit with ev'ry 

wind ? 
Ye vagrants of the sky! your wings ex- 
tend, 279 
Or where the sims arise, or where descend; 
To right, to left, unheeded take your way, 
While I the dictates of high Heav'n obev. 
Without a sign, his sword the brave man 

draws. 
And asks no omen but his country's cause. 
But why shouldst thou suspect the war's 

success ? 
None fears it more, as none promotes it 

less: 
Tho' all our Chiefs amid yon ships expire. 
Trust thy own cowardice t' escape their fire. 



Troy and her sous may find a gen'ral 

grave, 
But thou canst live, for thou canst be a 

slave. 290 

Yet should the fears that wary mind sug- 
gests 
Spread their cold poison thro' our soldiers' 

breasts. 
My jav'lin can revenge so base a part, 
And free the soul that quivers in thy heart.' 
Furious he spoke, and, rushing to the 

wall, 
Calls on his host; his host obey the call; 
With ardour follow where their leader 

flies: 
Redoubling clamours thunder in the skies. 
Jove breathes a whirlwind from the hills of 

Ide, 299 

And drifts of dust the clouded navy hide: 
He fills the Greeks with terror and disma)% 
And gives great Hector the predestin'd 

day. 
Strong in themselves, but stronger in his 

aid, 
Close to the works their rigid siege they 

laid. 
In vain the mounds and massy beams de- 
fend, 
While these they undermine, and those they 

rend; 
Upheave the piles that prop the solid wall; 
And heaps on heaps the smoky ruins fall. 
Greece on her ramparts stands the fierce 

alarms; 
The crowded bulwarks blaze with waving 

arms, 310 

Shield touching shield, a long refulgent 

row; 
Whence hissing darts, incessant, rain be- 
low. 
The bold Ajaces fly from tower to tower, 
And rouse, with flame divine, the Grecian 

power. 
The gen'rous impulse every Greek obeys; 
Threats urge the fearful; and the valiant, 

praise. 
'Fellows in arms! whose deeds are known 

to Fame, 
And you whose ardour hopes an equal 

name! 318 

Since not alike endued with force or art. 
Behold a day when each may act his part! 
A day to fire the brave, and warm the 

cold, 
To gain new glories, or augment the old. 



THE ILIAD 



393 



Urge those who stand, and those who faint, 

excite, 
Drown Hector's vaunts in loud exhorts of 

fight; 
Conquest, not safety, fill the thoughts of 

all; 
Seek not your fleet, but sally from the 

wall ; 
So Jove once more may drive their routed 

train, 
And Troy lie trembling in her walls again.' 
Their ardour kindles all the Grecian 

powers; 
And now the stones descend in heavier 

showers, 330 

As when high Jove his sharp artillery 

forms, 
And opes his cloudy magazine of storms; 
In winter's bleak uncomfortable reign, 
A snowy inundation hides the plain; 
He stills the winds, and bids the skies to 

sleep; 
Then pours the silent tempest, thick and 

deep: 
And first the mountain tops are cover'd o'er, 
Then the green fields, and then the sandy 

shore; 
Bent with the weight the nodding woods 

are seen. 
And one bright waste hides all the works of 

men: 340 

The circling seas alone absorbing all, 
Drink the dissolving fleeces as tli«y fall. 
So from each side increas'd the stony rain. 
And the white ruin rises o'er the plain. 
Thus godlike Hector and his troops con- 
tend 
To force the ramparts, and the gates to 

rend ; 
Nor Troy could conquer, nor the Greeks 

would yield, 
Till great Sarpedon tower'd amid the field ; 
For mighty Jove inspired with martial flame 
His matchless son, and urged him on to 

fame. 350 

In arms he shines, conspicuous from afar. 
And bears aloft his ample shield in air; 
Within whose orb the thick bull-hides were 

roll'd, 
Pond'rous with brass, and bound with duc- 
tile gold: 
And while two pointed jav'lins arm his 

hands, 
Majestic moves along, and leads his Lycian 

bands. 



So press'd with hunger, from the moun- 
tain's brow, 
Descends a lion on the flocks below: 
So stalks the lordly savage o'er the plain. 
In sullen majesty, and stern disdain: 36c 
In vain loud mastifi:'s bay him from afar, 
And shepherds gall him with an iron war; 
Regardless, furious, he pursues his way; 
He foams, he roars, he rends the panting 
prey. 
Resolv'd alike, divine Sarpedon glows 
With gen'rous rage that drives him on the 

foes. 
He views the towers, and meditates their 

fall; 

To sure destruction dooms th' aspiring wall: 

Then, casting on his friend an ardent look, 

Fired with the thirst of glory, thus he 

spoke: 370 

'Why boast we, Glaucus! our extended 

reign. 

Where Xanthus' streams enrich the Lycian 

plain. 
Our numerous herds that range the fruitful 

field. 
And hills where vines their purple harvest 

yield, 
Our foaming bowls with purer nectar 

crown'd. 
Our feasts enhanc'd with music's sprightly 

sound ? 
Why on those shores are we with joy sur- 
vey 'd, 
Admired as heroes, and as Gods obey'd 
Unless great acts superior merit prove, 
And vindicate the bounteous Powers 
above ? 380 

'T is ours, the dignity they give to grace; 
The first in valour, as the first in place: 
That when, with wond'ring eyes, our mar 

tial bands 
Behold our deeds transcending our com- 
mands, 
Snch, they may cry, deserve the sov'reign 

state, 
Whom those that envy dare not imitate! 
Could all our care elude the gloomy grave, 
Which claims no less the fearful than the 

brave, 
For lust of fame I should not vainly dare 
In fighting fields, nor urge thy soul to war. 
But since, alas! ignoble age must come, 391 
Disease, and death's inexorable doom; 
The life which others pay, let us bestow. 
And give to Fame what we to Nature owe; 



394 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Brave tho' we fall, and honour'd if we live, 

Or let us glory gain, or glory givei ' 

He said: his words the list'ning Chief 
inspire 

With equal warmth, and rouse the war- 
rior's fire; 

The troops pursue their leaders with de- 
light, 

Rush to the foe, and claim the promis'd 
fight. 400 

Menestheus from on high the storm beheld, 

Threat'ning the fort, and black'ning in the 
field; 

Around the walls he gazed, to view from 
far 

What aid appear'd t' avert tli' approaching 
war, 

And saw where Teucer with th' Ajaces 
stood. 

Of fight insatiate, prodigal of blood. 

In vain he calls; the din of helms and 
shields 

Rings to the skies, and echoes thro' the 
fields; 

The brazen hinges fly, the walls resound, 

Heav'n trembles, roar the mountains, thun- 
ders all the ground. 410 
Then thus to Thoos: — 'Hence with 
speed ' (he said), 

* And urge the bold Ajaces to our aid ; 
Their strength united best may help to bear 
The bloody labours of the doubtful war: 
Hither the Lycian princes bend their 

course. 
The best and bravest of the hostile force. 
But if too fiercely there the foes contend, 
Let Telamon, at least, our towers defend. 
And Teucer haste with his unerring bow, 
To share the danger, and repel the foe.' 420 
Swift as the word, the herald speeds 

along 
The lofty ramparts, thro' the martial 

throng; 
And finds the heroes, bathed in sweat and 

gore. 
Opposed in combat on the dusty shore. 

* Ye valiant leaders of our warlike bands! 
Your aid,' (said Thoos), ' Peleus' son de- 
mands. 

Your strength, united, best may help to 

bear 
The bloody labours of the doubtful war: 
Thither the Lycian princes bend their 

course, 429 

The best and bravest of the hostile force. • 



But if too fiercely here the foes contend, 
At least let Telamon these towers defend. 
And Teucer haste with his unerring bow, 
To share the danger, and repel the foe.' 
Straight to the fort great Ajax turn'd his 

care, 
And thus bespoke his brothers of the war: 
*Now, valiant Lycomede! exert your might, 
And, brave Oileus, prove your force in 

fight: 
To you I trust the fortune of the field, 
Till by this arm the foe shall be repell'd: 440 
That done, expect me to complete the 

day — ' 
Then, with his sev'n-fold shield, he strode 

away. 
With equal steps bold Teucer press'd the 

shore, 
Whose fatal bow the strong Pandion bore. 
High on the walls appear'd the Lycian 

powers. 
Like some black tempest gath'ring round 

the towers; 
The Greeks, oppress'd, their utmost force 

unite, 
Prepared to labour in th' unequal fight; 
The war renews, mix'd shouts and groans 

arise ; 
Tumultuous clamour mounts, and thickens 

in the skies. 450 

Fierce Ajax first th' advancing host in- 
vades. 
And sends the brave Epicles to the shades, 
Sarpedon's friend; across the warrior's 

way, 
Rent from the walls a rocky fragment 

lay; 
In modern ages not the strongest swain 
Could heave th' unwieldy burthen from the 

plain. 
He pois'd, and swung it round; then toss'd 

on high; 
It flew with force, and labour'd up the sky: 
Full on the Lycian's helmet thund'ring 

down, 
The pond'rous ruin crush'd his batter'd 

crown. 460 

As skilful divers from some airy steep 
Headlong descend, and shoot into the deep. 
So falls Epicles; then in groans expires. 
And murm'ring to the shades the soul 

retires. 
While to the ramparts daring Glaucus 

drew, 
From Teucer's hand a winged arrow flew; 



THE ILIAD 



395 



The bearded shaft the destin'd passage 

found ; 
And on his naked arm inflicts a wound. 
The Chief, who fear'd some foe's insulting 

boast 
Might stop the progress of his warlike 

host, 470 

Conceal'd the wound, and, leaping from his 

height, 
Retired reluctant from th' unfinish'd fight. 
Divine Sarpedon with regret beheld 
Disabled Glaucus slowly quit the field: 
His beating breast with gen'rous ardour 

glows, 
He springs to fight, and flies upon the foes. 
Alcmaon first was doom'd his force to feel: 
Deep in his breast he plunged the pointed 

steel; 
Then, from the yawning wound with fury 

tore 
The spear, pursued by gushing streams of 

gore : 480 

Down sinks the warrior with a thund'ring 

sound. 
His brazen armour rings against the 

ground. 
Swift to the battlement the victor flies. 
Tugs with full force, and ev'ry nerve ap- 
plies; 
It shakes; the pond'rous stones disjointed 

yield: 
The rolling ruins smoke along the field. 
A mighty breach appears: the walls lie 

bare. 
And, like a deluge, rushes in the war. 
At once bold Teucer draws the twanging 

bow. 
And Ajax sends his jav'lin at the foe: 490 
Fix'd in his belt the feather'd weapon 

stood, 
And thro' his buckler drove the trembling 

wood; 
But Jove was present in the dire debate. 
To shield his offspring, and avert his fate. 
The Prince gave back, not meditating flight. 
But urging vengeance and severer fight; 
Then, rais'd with hope, and fired with 

glory's charms. 
His fainting squadrons to new fury warms: 
*0 where, ye Lycians! is the strength you 

boast ? 
Your former fame, and ancient virtue lost! 
The breach lies open, but your Chief in 

vain 501 

Attempts alone the guarded pass to gain: 



Unite, and soon that hostile fleet shall 

fall; 
The force of powerful union conquers all.' 
This just rebuke inflamed the Lycian 

crew, 
They join, they thicken, and th' assault re- 
new: 
Unmov'd th' embodied Greeks their fury 

dare. 
And fix'd support the weight of all the war! 
Nor could the Greeks repel the Lycian 

powers. 
Nor the bold Lycians force the Grecian 

towers. 510 

As on the confines of adjoining grounds, 
Two stubborn swains with blows dispute 

their bounds; 
They tug, they sweat: but neither gain, nor 

yield. 
One foot, one inch, of the contended field: 
Thus obstinate to death, they fight, they 

fall: 
Nor these can keep, nor those can win, the 

wall. 
Their manly breasts are pierc'd with many 

a wound, 
Loud strokes are heard, and rattling arms 

resound; 
The copious slaughter covers all the shore. 
And the high ramparts drop with human 

gore. 520 

As when two scales are charged with 

doubtful loads, 
From side to side the trembling balance 

nods 
(While some laborious matron, just and 

poor. 
With nice exactness weighs her woolly 

store,) 
Till, pois'd aloft, the resting beam suspends 
Each equal weight; nor this nor that de- 
scends: 
So stood the war, till Hector's matchless 

might. 
With fates prevailing, turn'd the scale of 

fight. 
Fierce as a whirlwind up the walls he flies, 
And fires his host with loud repeated cries: 
'Advance, ye Trojans! lend your valiant 

hands, 531 

Haste to the fleet, and toss the blazing 

brands! ' 
They hear, they run, and, gath'ring at his 

call. 
Raise scaling engines, and ascend the wall : 



396 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Around the works a wood of glitt'ring 

spears 
Shoots up, and all the rising host appears. 
A pond'rous stoue bold Hector heav'd to 

throw, 
Pointed above, and rough and gross below: 
Not two strong men th' enormous weight 

could raise. 
Such men as live in these degen'rate days. 
Yet this, as easy as a swain could bear 541 
The snowy fleece, he toss'd and shook in 

air: 
For Jove upheld, and lighten'd of its load 
Th' unwieldy rock, the labour of a God. 
Thus arm'd, before the folded gates he 

came. 
Of massy substance, and stupendous frame ; 
With iron bars and brazen hinges strong, 
On lofty beams of solid timber hung: 
Then thund'ring thro' the planks, with 

forceful sway. 
Drives the sharp rock: the solid beams 

give way; 550 

The folds are shatter'd ; from the crackling 

door 
Lead the resounding bars, the flying hinges 

roar. 
Now, rushing in, the furious Chief appears, 
Gloomy as night! and shakes two shining 

spears: 
A dreadful gleam from his bright armour 

came, 
And from his eye-balls flash'd the living 

flame. 
He moves a God, resistless in his course, 
And seems a match for more than mortal 

force. 
Then, pouring after, thro' the gaping space, 
A tide of Trojans flows, and fills the place; 
The Greeks behold, they tremble, and they 

fly:_ ^ 561 

The shore is heap'd with death, and tumult 

rends the sky. 



BOOK XIII 

THE FOURTH BATTLE CONTINUED, IN WHICH 
NEPTUNE ASSISTS THE GREEKS. THE ACTS 
OF IDOMENEUS 

THE ARGUMENT 

Neptune, concerned for the loss of the Grecians, 
upon seeing- the fortification forced by Hector 
(who had entered the gate near the station 



of the Ajaces), assumes the shape of Calchas, 
and inspires those heroes to oppose liim ; 
then, in the form of one of the generals, en- 
courages the other Greeks who had retired 
to their vessels. The Ajaces form their 
troops into a close phalanx, and put a stop 
to Hector and the Trojans. Several deeds 
of valour are performed ; Meriones, losing 
his spear in the encounter, repairs to seek 
anotlier at the tent of Idomeneus : this oc- 
casions a conversation between these two 
warriors, who return together to the battle. 
Idomeneus signalizes his courage above the 
rest ; he kills Othryoneus, Asius, and Alca- 
thous : Deiphobus and ^neas march against 
him, and at length Idomeneus retires. 
Menelaus wounds Helenus, and kills Pi- 
sander. The Trojans are repulsed in the 
left wing. Hector still keeps his ground 
against the Ajaces, till, being galled by the 
Locrian slingers and archers, Polydamas 
advises to call a council of war : Hector ap- 
proves his advice, but goes first to rally the 
Trojans ; upbraids Paris, rejoins Polydamas, 
meets Ajax again, and renews the attack. 
The eight-and-twentieth day still continues. 
The scene is between the Grecian wall and 
tlie sea-shoi'e. 

When now the Thund'rer on the sea- 
beat coast 
Had fix'd great Hector and his conquering 

host. 
He left them to the fates, in bloody fray 
To toil and struggle thro' the well-fought 

day. 
Then turned to Thracia from the field of 

fight 
Those eyes that shed insufferable light, 
To where the Mysians prove their martial 

force. 
And hardy Thracians tame the savage 

horse ; 
And where the far-famed Hippemolgiau 

strays, 
Renown'd for justice and for length of 

days. 10 

Thrice happy race! that, innocent of blood, 
From milk innoxious seek their simple food: 
Jove sees delighted; and avoids the scene 
Of guilty Troy, of arms, and dying men: 
No aid, he deems, to either host is giv'n, 
While his high law suspends the Powers 

of Heav'n. 
Meantime the Monarch of the wat'ry 

main 
Observ'd the Thund'rer, nor observ'd in vain. 
In Saniothracia, on a mountain's brow, 



THE ILIAD 



397 



Whose waving woods o'erhung the deeps 

below, 20 

He sat; and round him east his azure 

eyes, 
Where Ida's misty tops confusedly rise; 
Below, fair Ilion's glitt'ring spires were 

seen; 
The crowded ships, and sable seas between. 
There, from the crystal chambers of the 

main 
Emerged, he sat; and mourn'd his Argives 

slain. 
At Jove incens'd, with grief and fury 

stung, 
Proue down the rocky steep he rush'd 

along; 
Fierce as he pass'd, the lofty mountains ' 

nod. 
The forests shake; earth trembled as he 

trod, 30 

And felt th' footsteps of the immortal 

God. 
From realm to realm three ample strides 

he took. 
And, at the fourth, the distant iEgae 

shook. 
Far in the bay his shining palace stands. 
Eternal frame! not rais'd by mortal hands: 
This having reach'd, his brass-hoof 'd steeds 

he reins. 
Fleet as the winds, and deck'd with golden 

manes. 
Refulgent arms his mighty limbs infold. 
Immortal arms of adamant and gold. 
He mounts the car, the golden scourge 

applies, 40 

He sits superior, and the chariot flies: 
His whirling wheels the glassy surface 

sweep; 
Th' enormous monsters, rolling o'er the 

deep. 
Gambol around him on the wat'ry way; 
And heavy whales in awkward measures 

play : 
The sea subsiding spreads a level plain. 
Exults, and owns the monarch of the main; 
The parting waves before his coursers fly; 
The wond'ring waters leave his axle dry. 
Deep in the liquid regions lies a cave, 50 
Between where Tenedos the surges lave. 
And rocky Imbrus breaks the rolling 

wave: 
There the great ruler of the azure round 
Stopp'd his svvift chariot, and his steeds 

unbound, 



Fed with ambrosial herbage from his hand. 
And link'd their fetlocks with a golden 

band. 
Infrangible, immortal: there they stay; 
The Father of the Floods pursues his way, 
Where, like a tempest dark'ning Heav'u 

around. 
Or fiery deluge that devours the ground, 60 
Th' impatient Trojans, in a gloomy throng. 
Embattled roU'd, as Hector rush'd along: 
To the loud tumult and the barb'rous cry, 
The Heav'ns re-echo, and the shores reply; 
They vow destruction to the Grecian name, 
And in their hopes the fleets already flame. 
But Neptune, rising from the seas pro- 
found. 
The God whose earthquakes rock the solid 

ground. 
Now wears a mortal form ; like Calchas seen, 
Such his loud voice, and such his manly 

mien; 70 

His shouts incessant every Greek inspire, 
But most th' Ajaces, adding fire to fire: 
' 'T is yours, O warriors, all our hopes to 

raise; 
Oh recollect your ancient worth and praise! 
'Tis yours to save us if you cease to fear; 
Flight, more than shameful, is destructive 

here. 
On other works tho' Troy with fury fall. 
And pour her armies o'er our batter'd 

wall; 
There, Greece has strength: but this, this 

part o'erthrown. 
Her strength were vain; I dread for you 

alone. 80 

Here Hector rages like the force of fire. 
Vaunts of his Gods, and calls high Jove his 

sire. 
If yet some heav'nly power your breast 

excite. 
Breathe in your hearts and string your 

arms to fight, 
Greece yet may live, her threaten'd fleet 

maintain, 
And Hector's force, and Jove's own aid, be 

vain.' 
Then with his sceptre that the deep con- 
trols, 
He touch'd the Chiefs, and steel'd their 

manly souls: 
Strength, not their own, the touch divine 

imparts. 
Prompts their light limbs, and swells their 

daring hearts. 90 



398 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Then, as a falcon from the rocky height, 
Her quarry seen, impetuous at the sight, 
Forth-springing instant, darts herself from 

high, 
Shoots on the wing, and skims along the 

sky: 
Such, and so swift, the power of ocean 

flew; 
The wide horizon shut him from their 

view. 
Th' inspiring God Oileus' active son 
Perceiv'd the first, and thus to Telamon: 
' Some God, my friend, some God in 

human form, 
Fav'ring descends, and wills to stand the 

storm ; loo 

Not Calchas this, the venerable seer; 
Short as he turn'd, I saw the Power ap- 
pear: 
I mark'd his parting, and the steps he 

trod, 
His own bright evidence reveals a God. 
Ev'n now some energy divine I share. 
And seem to walk on wings, and tread in 

air! ' 
'With equal ardour ' (Telamon returns), 
' My soul is kindled, and my bosom 

burns; 
New rising spirits all my force alarm. 
Lift each impatient limb, and brace my 

arm. no 

This ready arm, unthinking, shakes the 

dart; 
The blood pours back, and fortifies my 

heart; 
Singly, methinks, yon tow'ring Chief I 

meet, 
And stretch the dreadful Hector at my 

feet.' 
Full of the God that urged their burning 

breast, 
The heroes thus their mutual warmth ex- 

press'd. 
Neptune meanwhile the routed Greeks in- 
spired; 
Who, breathless, pale, with length of la- 
bours tired, 
Pant in the ships; while Troy to conquest 

calls, 
And swarms victorious o'er their yielding 

walls: I2Q 

Trembling before th' impending storm 

they lie. 
While tears of rage stand burning in their 

eye. 



Greece sunk they thought, and this their 

fatal hour; 
But breathe new courage as they feel the 

power. 
Teucer and Leitus first his words excite; 
Then stern Peneleus rises to the fight; 
Thoas, Deipyrus, in arms renown'd. 
And Merion next, th' impulsive fury found; 
Last Nestor's son the same bold ardour 

takes, 
While thus the God the martial fire 

awakes: 130 

* Oh lasting infamy, oh dire disgrace 
To Chiefs of vig'rous youth, and manly 

race! 
I trusted in the Gods, and you,, to see 
Brave Greece victorious, and her navy 

free: 
Ah no — the glorious combat you disclaim, 
And one black day clouds all her former 

fame. 
Heav'ns! what a prodigy these eyes sur- 
vey, 
Unseen, unthought, till this amazing day! 
Fly we at length from Troy's oft-con- 

quer'd bands ? 
And falls our fleet by such inglorious 

hands ? 140 

A rout undisciplin'd, a straggling train, 
Not born to glories of the dusty plain; 
Like frighted fawns from hill to hill pur- 
sued, 
A prey to every savage of the wood; 
Shall these, so late who trembled at your 

name, 
Livade your camps, involve your ships in 

flame ? 
A change so shameful, say, what cause has 

wrought ? 
The soldier's baseness, or the gen'ral's 

fault ? 
Fools! will ye perish for your leader's 

vice ? 149 

The purchase infamy, and life the price! 
'T is not your cause, Achilles' injur'd 

fame: 
Another's is the crime, but yours the 

shame. 
Grant that our Chief offend thro' rage or 

lust. 
Must you be cowards if your king 's un- 

just? 
Prevent this evil, and your country save: 
Small thought retrieves the spirits of the 

brave. 



THE ILIAD 



399 



Think, and subdue! on dastards dead to 

fame 
I waste no anger, for they feel no shame: 
But you, the pride, the flower of all our 

host, 
My heart weeps blood to see your glory 

lost! i6o 

Nor deem this day, this battle, all you lose : 

A day more black, a fate more vile, en- 
sues. 

Let each reflect, who prizes fame or 
breath. 

On endless infamy, on instant death. 

For lo! the fated time, th' appointed shore; 

Hark! the gates burst, the brazen barriers 
roar! 

Impetuous Hector thunders at the wall; 

The hour, the spot, to conquer or to fall.* 
These words the Grecians' fainting hearts 
inspire, 

And list'ning armies catch the godlike 
fire. 170 

Fix'd at his post was each bold Ajax found, 

With well-ranged squadrons strongly cir- 
cled round: 

So close their order, so disposed their fight, 

As Pallas' self might view with fix'd de- 
light; 

Or had the God of War inclin'd his eyes. 

The God of War had own'd a just sur- 
prise. 

A chosen phalanx, firm, resolv'd as Fate, 

Descending Hector and his battle wait. 

An iron scene gleams dreadful o'er the 
fields. 

Armour in armour lock'd, and shields in 
shields, 180 

Spears lean on spears, on targets targets 
throng, 

Helms stuck to helms, and man drove man 
along. 

The floating plumes unnumber'd wave 
above. 

As when an earthquake stirs the nodding 
grove ; 

And, levell'd at the skies with pointing 
rays, 

Their brandish'd lances at each motion 
blaze. 
Thus breathing death, in terrible array. 

The close-compacted legions urged their 
way: 

Fierce they drove on, impatient to destroy; 

Troy charged the first, and Hector first of 
Troy. 190 



As from some mountain's craggy forehead 

torn, 
A rock's round fragment flies with fury 

borne, 
(Which from the stubborn stone a torrent 

rends,) 
Precipitate the pond'rous mass descends: 
From steep to steep the rolling ruin 

bounds; 
At every shock the crackling wood re- 
sounds; 
Still gath'ring force, it smokes; and, urged 

amain. 
Whirls, leaps, and thunders down, impetu- 
ous to the plain: 
There stops — So Hector. Their whole 

force he prov'd, 
Resistless when he raged, and, when he 

stopp'd, unmov'd. 200 

On him the war is bent, the darts are 

shed. 
And all their faulchions wave around his 

head : 
Repuls'd he stands, nor from his stand re- 
tires; 
But with repeated shouts his army fires. 
'Trojans! be firm; this arm shall make 

your way 
Thro' yon square body, and that black 

array ; 
Stand, and my spear shall rout their scat- 

t'ring power, 
Strong as they seem, embattled like a 

tower. 
For he that Juno's heav'nly bosom warms, 
The first of Gods, this day inspires our 

arms.' 210 

He said, and rous'd the soul in ev'ry 

breast; 
Urged with desire of fame, beyond the rest, 
Forth march'd Deiphobus ; but marching 

held 
Before his wary steps his ample shield. 
Bold Merion aim'd a stroke, nor aim'd it 

wide; 
The glitt'ring jav'lin pierc'd the tough 

bull-hide ; 
But pierc'd not thro' : unfaithful to his 

hand, 
The point broke short, and sparkled in the 

sand. 
The Trojan warrior, touch'd with timely 

fear, 
On the rais'd orb to distance bore the 

spear: 220 



400 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The Greek retreating mourn 'd his frustrate 

blow, 
And curs'd the treaeh'rous lance that spared 

a foe; 
Then to the ships with surly speed he went, 
To seek a surer jav'lin in his tent. 

Meanwhile with rising rage the battle 

glows, 
The tumult thickens, and the clamour 

grows. 
By Teucer's arm the warlike Imbrius 

bleeds, 
The son of Mentor, rich in gen'rous steeds. 
Ere yet to Troy the sons of Greece were 

led. 
In fair Pedseus' verdant pastures bred, 230 
The youth had dwelt; remote from war's 

alarms. 
And bless'd in bright Medesicaste's arms: 
(This nymph, the fruit of Priam's ravish'd 

Allied the warrior to the house of Troy.) 

To Troy, when glory call'd his arms, he 
came: 

And match'd the bravest of her Chiefs in 
fame: 

With Priam's sons, a guardian of the 
throne, 

He liv'd, belov'd and honour'd as his own. 

Him Teucer pierc'd between the throat and 
ear: 

He groans beneath the Telamonian spear. 

As from some far-seen mountain's airy 
crown, 241 

Subdued by steel, a tall ash tumbles 
down, 

And soils its verdant tresses on the ground : 

So falls the youth; his arms the fall re- 
sound. 

Then, Teucer rushing to despoil the dead. 

From Hector's hand a shining jav'lin fled: 

He saw, and shunn'd the death; the force- 
ful dart 

Sung on, and pierc'd Amphimaehus's heart, 

Cteatus' son, of Ne])tune's forceful line; 

Vain was his courage, and his race divine! 

Prostrate he falls; his clanging arms re- 
sound, 251 

And his broad buckler thunders on the 
ground. 

To seize his beamy helm the victor flies. 

And just had fasten'd on the dazzling prize. 

When Ajax' manly arm a jav'lin flung; 

Full on the shield's round boss the weapon 
rung; 



He felt the shock, nor more was doom'd 
to feel, 

Secure in mail, and sheathed in shining 
steel. 

Repuls'd he yields; the victor Greeks ob- 
tain 259 

The spoils contested, and bear off the slain. 

Between the leaders of th' Athenian line, 

(Stichius the brave, Menestheus the di- 
vine,) 

Deplor'd Amphimachus, sad object! lies; 

Imbrius remains the fierce Ajaces' prize. 

As two grim lions bear across the lawn, 

Snatch'd from devouring hounds, a slaugh- 
ter 'd fawn 

In their fell jaws high lifting thro' the 
wood. 

And sprinkling all the shrubs with drops of 
blood ; 

So these the Chief: great Ajax from the 
dead 

Strips his bright arms, Oileus lops his 
head: 270 

Toss'd like a ball, and whirl'd in air away, 

At Hector's feet the gory visage lay. 

The God of Ocean, fired with stern dis- 
dain, 

And pierc'd with sorrow for his grandson 
slain. 

Inspires the Grecian hearts, confirms their 
hands. 

And breathes destruction to the Trojan 
bands. 

Swift as a whirlwind rushing to the fleet. 

He finds the lance-famed Idomen of Crete; 

His pensive brow the gen'rous care ex- 
press'd 

With which a wounded soldier touch'd his 
breast, 280 

Whom in the chance of war a jav'lin tore, 

And his sad comrades from the battle bore; 

Him to the surgeons of the camp he sent; 

That office paid, he issued from his tent. 

Fierce for the fight: to him the God begun. 

In Thoas' voice, Andrpemon's valiant son, 

Who ruled where Calydon's white rocks 
arise. 

And Pleuron's chalky cliffs emblaze the 
skies: 
' Where 's now th' impetuous vaunt, the 
daring boast. 

Of Greece victorious, and proud Ilion 

lost ? ' 290 

To whom the King: * On Greece no blame 
be thrown, 



THE ILIAD 



401 



Arms are her trade, and war is all her 

own. 
Her hardy heroes from the well-fonght 

plains 
Nor Fear withholds, nor shameful Sloth 

detains. 
'T is Heav'n, alas! and Jove's all-powerful 

doom, 
That far, far distant from our native home 
Wills us to fall, inglorious! Oh, my 

friend! 
Once foremost in the fight, still prone to 

lend 
Or arms, or counsels; now perform thy 

best. 
And what thou canst not singly, urge the 

rest.' 300 

Thus he; and thus the God whose force 

can make 
The solid globe's eternal basis shake: 
* Ah! never may he see his native land. 
But feed the vultures on this hateful 

strand, 
Who seeks ignobly in his ships to stay, 
Nor dares to combat on this signal day! 
For this, behold! in horrid arms I shine. 
And urge thy soul to rival acts with mine; 
Together let us battle on the plain; 
Two, not the worst; nor ev'n this succour 

vain: 310 

Not vain the weakest, if their force unite; 
But ours, the bravest have confess'd in 

fight.' 
This said, he rushes where the combat 

burns; 
Swift to his tent the Cretan King returns. 
From thence, two jav'lins glitt'ring in his 

hand. 
And clad in arms that lighten'd all the 

strand. 
Fierce on the foe th' impetuous hero drove; 
Like lightning bursting from the arm of 

Jove, 
Which to pale man the wrath of Heav'n 

declares, 319 

Or terrifies th' offending world with wars; 
In streamy sparkles, kindling all the skies, 
From pole to pole the trail of glory flies. 
Thus his bright armour o'er the dazzled 

throng 
Gleam'd dreadful as the Monarch flash'd 

along. 
Him, near his tent, Meriones attends; 
Whom thus he questions: ' Ever best of 

friends ! 



say, in every art of battle skill'd. 
What holds thy courage from so brave a 

field? 

On some important message art thou 
bound. 

Or bleeds my friend by some unhappy 
wound ? 330 

Inglorious here, my soul abhors to stay. 

And glows with prospects of th' approach- 
ing day.' 
*0 Prince!' (Meriones replies), 'whose 
care 

Leads forth th' embattled sous of Crete to 
war; 

This speaks my grief: this headless lance I 
wield ; 

The rest lies rooted in a Trojan shield.' 
To whom the Cretan: 'Enter, and re- 
ceive 

The wanted weapons; those my tent can 
give; 

Spears I have store (and Trojan lances 
all), 

That shed a lustre round th' illumin'd wall. 

Tho' I, disdainful of the distant war, 341 

Nor trust the dart, nor aim th' uncertain 
spear, 

Yet hand to hand I fight, and spoil the 
slain ; 

And thence these trophies, and these arms 
I gain. 

Enter, and see on heaps the helmets roll'd, 

And high-hung spears, and shields that 
flame with gold.' 
* Nor vain ' (said Merion) ' are our mar- 
tial toils; 

We too can boast of no ignoble spoils. 

But those my ship contains, whence dis- 
tant far, 

1 fight conspicuous in the van of war. 350 
What need I more ? If any Greek there 

be 

Who knows not Merion, I appeal to thee.' 
To this Idomeneus : ' The fields of fiofht 

Have prov'd thy valour, and unconquer'd 
might: 

And were some ambush for the foes de- 
sign'd, 

Ev'n there thy courage would not lag be- 
hind. 

In that sharp service, singled from the rest, 

The fear of each, or valour, stands con- 
fess'd. 

No force, no firmness, the pale coward 
shews; 



402 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



He shifts his place; his colour comes and 

goes; 360 

A dropping sweat creeps cold on ev'ry 

part; 
Against his bosom beats his quiv'ring 

heart; 
Terror and death in his wild eye-balls 

stare ; 
With chatt'ring teeth he stands, and 

stiff'ning hair, 
And looks a bloodless image of despair! 
Not so the brave; still dauntless, still the 

same, 
Unchanged his colour, and unmov'd his 

frame; 
Composed his thought, defcermin'd is his 

eye, 
And fix'd his soul, to conquer or to die: 
If aught disturb the tenor of his breast, 370 
•'T is but the wish to strike before the rest. 
* In such assays thy blameless worth is 

known, 
And ev'ry art of dangerous war thy own. 
By chance of fight whatever wounds you 

bore, 
Those wounds were glorious all, and all 

before: 
Such as may teach, 'twas still thy brave 

delight 
T' oppose thy bosom where the foremost 

fight. 
But why, like infants, cold to honour's 

charms. 
Stand we to talk, when glory calls to arms ? 
Go — from my conquer'd spears the choi- 
cest take, 380 
And to their owners send them nobl}^ 

back.' 
Swift as the word bold Merion snatch'd 

a spear. 
And, breathing slaughter, follow'd to the 

war. 
So Mars armipotent invades the plain, 
(The wide destroyer of the race of man;) 
Terror, his best-lov'd son, attends his 

course, 
Arm'd with stern boldness, and enormous 

force ; 
The pride of haughty warriors to confound, 
And lay the strength of tyrants on the 

ground. 
From Thrace they fly, call'd to the dire 

alarms 390 

Of warring Phlegians, and Ephyrian 

arms: 



Invoked by both, relentless they dispose 
To these glad conquest, murd'rous rout to 

those. 
So march'd the leaders of the Cretan train, 
And their bright arms shot horror o'er the 

plain. 
Then first spake Merion: * Shall we join 

the right. 
Or combat in the centre of the fight ? 
Or to the left our wanted succour lend ? 
Hazard and Fame all parts alike attend.' 
' Not in the centre ' (Idomen replied), 
' Our ablest Chieftains the main battle 

guide; 401 

Each godlike Ajax makes that post his 

care, 
And gallant Teucer deals destruction there: 
Skill'd, or with shafts to gall the distant 

field 
Or bear close battle on the sounding shield. 
These can the rage of haughty Hector 

tame; 
Safe in their arms, the navy fears no flame; 
Till Jove himself descends, his bolts to 

shed, 
And hurl the blazing ruin at our head. 
Great must he be, of more than human 

birth, 410 

Nor feed like mortals on the fruits of 

earth, 
Him neither rocks can crush, nor steel can 

wound. 
Whom Ajax fells not on th' ensanguin'd 

ground. 
In standing fight he mates Achilles' force, 
Excell'd alone in swiftness in the course. 
Then to the left our ready arms apply, 
And live with glory, or with glory die.' 
He said: and Merion to th' appointed 

place, 
Fierce as the God of Battles, urged his 

pace. 419 

Soon as the foe the shining chiefs beheld 
Rush like a fiery torrent round the field, 
Their force embodied in a tide they pour; 
The rising combat sounds along the shore: 
As warring winds, in Sirius' sultry reign. 
From diff'rent quarters sweep the sandy 

plain; 
On every side the dusty whirlwinds rise, 
And the dry fields are lifted to the skies: 
Thus, by despair, hope, rage, together 

driv'n, 
Met the black hosts, and, meeting, darken'd 

Heav'n. 



THE ILIAD 



403 



r 



All dreadful glared the iron face of war, 430 
Bristled with upright spears, that flash'd 

afar ; 
Dire was the gleam of breast-plates, helms, 

and shields. 
And polish'd arms emblazed the flaming 

fields: 
Tremendous scene! that gen'ral horror 

gave, 
But touch'd with joy the bosoms of the 

brave. 
Saturn's great sons in fierce contention 

vied. 
And crowds of heroes in their anger died. 
The Sire of Earth and Heav'n, by Thetis 

won 
To crown with glory Peleus' godlike son, 
Will'd not destruction to the Grecian 

powers, 440 

But spared awhile the destin'd Trojan 

towers: 
While Neptune, rising from his azure" 

main, 
Warr'd on the King of Heav'n with stern 

disdain, 
And breathed revenge, and fired the Gre- 
cian train. 

Gods of one source, of one ethereal race, 
Alike divine, and Heav'n their native place; 
But Jove the greater; first-born of the 

skies. 
And more than men, or Gods, supremely 

wise. 
For this, of Jove's superior might afraid, 
Neptune in human form conceal'd his aid. 
These Powers infold the Greek and Trojan 

train 451 

In War and Discord's adamantine chain; 
Indissolubly strong, the fatal tie 
Is stretch'd on both, and close-compell'd 

they die. 
Dreadful in arms, and grown in combat 

grey, 
The bold Idomeneus controls the day. 
First by his hand Othryoneus was slain, 
Swell'd with false hopes, with mad ambi- 
tion vain; 
Call'd by the voice of war to martial fame. 
From high Cabesus' distant walls he came ; 
Cassandra's love he sought, with boasts of 

power, 461 

And promis'd conquest was the proffer'd 

dower. 
The King consented, by his vaunts abused; 
The King consented, but the Fates refused. 



Proud of himself, and of th' imagin'd 

bride, 
The field he measured with a larger stride. 
Him, as he stalk'd, the Cretan jav'lin found ; 
Vain was his breast - plate to repel the 

wound: 
His dream of glory lost, he plunged to 

Hell; 
The plains resounded as the boaster fell. 470 
The great Idomeneus bestrides the dead; 

* And thus ' (he cries) ' behold thy promise 

sped ! ' 

* Such is the help thy arras to Ilion bring. 
And such the contract of the Phrygian 

King! 
Our offers now, illustrious Prince! receive; 
For such an aid what will not Argos give ? 
To conquer Troy, with ours thy forces join, 
And count Atrides' fairest daughter thine. 
Meantime, on farther methods to advise. 
Come, follow to the fleet thy new allies; 480 
There hear what Greece has on her part to 

say.' 
He spoke, and dragg'd the gory corse away. 

This Asius view'd, unable to contain. 
Before his chariot warring on the plain; 
(His valued coursers, to his squire con- 

sign'd. 
Impatient panted on his neck behind) : 
To vengeance rising with a sudden spring, 
He hoped the conquest of the Cretan King. 
The wary Cretan, as his foe drew near. 
Full on his throat discharged the forceful 

spear: 490 

Beneath the chin the point was seen to 

glide, 
And, glitter'd, extant, at the farther side. 
As when the mountain oak, or poplar tall. 
Or pine, fit mast for some great admiral, 
Groans to the oft-heav'd axe, with many 

a wound. 
Then spreads a length of ruin o'er the 

ground: 
So sunk proud Asius in that dreadful day. 
And stretch'd before his much - lov'd 

coursers lay. 
He grinds the dust distain'd with stream- 
ing gore. 
And, fierce in death, lies foaming on the 

shore. 500 

Deprived of motion, stiff with stupid fear. 
Stands all aghast his trembling charioteer. 
Nor shuns the foe, nor turns the steeds 

away, 
But falls transfix'd, an unresisting prey: 



404 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Pierc'd by Antilcchus, he pants beneath 
The stately car, and labours out his breath. 
Thus Asius' steeds (their mighty master 

gone) 
Remain the prize of Nestor's youthful son. 
Stabb'd at the sight, Deiphobus drew 

nigh, 
And made, with force, the vengeful weapon 

fly: 510 

The Cretan saw; and, stooping, caus'd to 

glance, 
From his slope shield, the disappointed 

lance. 
Beneath the spacious targe (a blazing 

round. 
Thick with bull-hides, and brazen orbits 

bound. 
On his rais'd arm by two strong braces 

stay'd). 
He lay collected in defensive shade; 
O'er his safe head the jav'lin idly sung, 
And on the tinkling verge more faintly 

rung. 
Ev'n then, the spear the vig'rous arm con- 

fess'd. 
And pierc'd, obliquely. King Hypsenor's 

breast; 520 

Warm'd in his liver, to the ground it bore 
The Chief, his people's guardian now no 

more! 
* Not unattended ' (the proud Trojan 

cries) 
* Nor unrevenged, lamented Asius lies: 
For thee, tho' Hell's black portals stand 

display'd, 
This mate shall joy thy melancholy shade.' 
Heart-piercing anguish, at the haughty 

boast. 
Touch 'd every Greek, but Nestor's son the 

most: 
Griev'd as he was, his pious arms attend, 
And his broad buckler shields his slaugh- 

ter'd friend: 530 

Till sad Mecistheus and Alastor bore 
His honour'd body to the tented shore. 
Nor yet from fight Idoraeneus with- 
draws; 
Resolv'd to perish in his country's cause. 
Or find some foe, whom Heav'n and he 

shall doom 
To wail his fate in death's eternal gloom. 
He sees Alcatholis in the front aspire: 
Great ^Esyetes was the hero's sire: 
His spouse Hippodame, divinely fair, 
Anchises' eldest hope, and darling care : 540 



Who charm'd her parent's and her hus- 
band's heart, 
With beauty, sense, and every work of art: 
He, once, of Ilion's youth the loveliest boy, 
The fairest she, of all the fair of Troy. 
By Neptune now the hapless hero dies, 
Who covers with a cloud those beauteous 

eyes. 
And fetters every limb: yet bent to meet 
His fate, he stands; nor shuns the lance of 

Crete. 
Fix'd as some column, or deep-rooted oak, 
(While the winds sleep,) his breast receiv'd 
the stroke. 550 

Before the pond'rous stroke his corslet 

yields. 
Long used to ward the death in fighting 

fields. 
The riven armour sends a jarring sound: "^ 
His lab'ring heart heaves with so strong 

a bound, 
The long lance shakes, and vibrates in 

the wound: 
Fast flowing from its source, as prone he 

lay. 
Life's purple tide impetuous gush'd away. 

Then Idomen, insulting o'er the slain: 
'Behold, Deiphobus! nor vaunt in vain: 
See! on one Greek three Trojan ghosts at- 
tend, 560 
This, my third victim, to the shades I send. 
Approaching now, tli}' boasted might ap- 
prove. 
And try the prowess of the seed of Jove. 
From Jove, enamour'd on a mortal dame, 
Great Minos, guardian of his country, 

came; 
Deucalion, blameless Prince! was Minos' 

heir; 
His first-born I, the third from Jupiter: 
O'er spacious Crete and her bold sons I 

reign. 
And thence my ships transport me thro' 

the main: 

Lord of a host, o'er all my host I shine, 570 

A scourge to thee, thy father, and thy line.' 

The Trojan heard; uncertain, or to meet 

Alone, with venturous arms, the King of 

Crete; 
Or seek auxiliar force; at length decreed 
To call some hero to partake the deed. 
Forthwith ^neas rises to his thought; 
For him, in Troy's remotest lines he sought. 
Where he, incens'd at partial Priam, stands, 
And sees superior posts in meaner hands. 



THE ILIAD 



405 



To him, ambitious of so great an aid, 580 
The bold Deiphobus approach'd, and said: 
* Now, Trojan Prince, employ thy pious 

arms, 
If e'er thy bosom felt fair honour's charms. 
Alcathous dies, thy brother and thy friend. 
Come, and the warrior's lov'd remains de- 
fend. 
Beneath his cares thy early youth was 

train'd, 
One table fed you, and one roof contaiu'd. 
This deed to fierce Idomeneus we owe; 
Haste, and revenge it on th' insulting foe.' 
^neas heard, and for a space resign'd 590 
To tender pity all liis manly mind; 
Then, rising in his rage, he burns to fight: 
The Greek awaits him, with collected 

might. 
As the fell boar on some rough mountain's 

head, 
Arm'd with wild terrors, and to slaughter 

bred. 
When the loud rustics rise, and shout from 

far. 
Attends the tumult, and expects the war; 
O'er his bent back the bristly horrors rise. 
Fires stream in lightning from his sanguine 

eyes; 
His foaming: tusks both dogs and men en- 

gage, ^ _ 600 

But most his hunters rouse his mighty rage: 
So stood Idomeneus, his jav'lin shook, 
And met the Trojan with a low'ring look. 
Antilochus, Deipyrus, were near, 
The youthful offspring of the God of War; 
Merion, and Aphareus, in field renown'd: 
To these the warrior sent his voice around: 
'Fellows in arms! your timely aid unite: 
Lo, great ^neas rushes to the fight: 
Sprung from a God, and more than mortal 

bold: 610 

He fresh in youth, and I in arms grown 

old. 
Else should this hand, this hour, decide the 

strife, 
The great dispute, of glory, or of life.' 
He spoke, and all as with one soul 

obey'd; 
Their lifted bucklers cast a dreadful shade 
Around the Chief, ^neas too demands 
Th' assisting forces of his native bands: 
Paris, Deiphobus, Agenor join; 
(Co-aids and captains of the Trojan line;) 
In order follow all th' embodied train; 620 
Like Ida's flocks proceeding o'er the plain: 



Before his fleecy care, erect and bold, 
Stalks the proud ram, the father of the 

fold: 
With joy the swain surveys them, as he 

leads 
To the cool fountains thro' the well-known 

meads: 
So joys iEneas, as his native band 
Moves on in rank, and stretches o'er the 

land. 
Round dead Alcathous now the battle 

rose; 
On ev'ry side the steely circle grows ; 
Now batter'd breast-plates and hack'd hel- 
mets ring, 630 
And o'er their heads unheeded jav'lins 

sing. 
Above the rest, two tow'ring Chiefs ap- 
pear, 
There great Idomeneus, ^neas here. 
Like Gods of War, dispensing fate, they 

stood. 
And burn'd to drench the ground with 

mutual blood. 
The Trojan weapon whizz'd along in air: 
The Cretan saw, and shunn'd the brazen 

spear, 
Sent from an arm so strong, the missive 

wood 
Stuck deep in earth, and quiver'd where it 

stood. 639 

But Qi^nomas receiv'd the Cretan's stroke; 
The forceful spear his hollow corslet broke; 
It ripp'd his belly with a ghastly wound, 
And roll'd the smoking entrails to the 

ground. 
Stretch'd on the plain, he sobs away his 

breath. 
And furious grasps the bloody dust in 

death. 
The victor from his breast the weapon 

tears 
(His spoils he could not, for the shower of 

spears) ; 
Tho' now unfit an active war to wage, 
Heavy with cumbrous arms, stiff with cold 

age, 
His listless limbs unable for the course; 650 
In standing fight he yet maintains his 

force : 
Till, faint with labour, and by foes repell'd, 
His tired slow steps he drags along the 

field. 
Deiphobus beheld him as he pass'd. 
And, fired with hate, a parting jav'lin cast: 



4o6 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The jav'lin err'd, but held its course along, 
Aud pierc'd Ascalaphus, the brave and 

young: 
The son of Mars fell gasping on the 

ground, 
And gnash'd the dust all bloody with his 

wound. 
Nor knew the furious father of his fall; 
High-throned amidst the great Olympian 

hall, 66i 

On golden clouds th' immortal synod sat; 
Detain'd from bloody war by Jove and 

Fate. 
Now, where in dust the breathless hero 

lay, 
For slain Ascalaphus commenc'd the fray. 
Deiphobus to seize his helmet flies, 
And from his temples rends the glitt'ring 

prize: 
Valiant as Mars, Meriones drew near, 
And on his loaded arm discharged his spear. 
He drops the weight, disabled with the 

pain ; 670 

The hollow helmet rings against the plain. 
Swift as a vulture leaping on his prey, 
From his torn arm the Grecian rent away 
The reeking jav'lin, and rejoin'd his friends. 
His wounded brother good Polites tends; 
Around his waist his pious arms he threw. 
And from the rage of combat gently drew: 
Him his swift coursers, on his splendid car, 
Rapt from the less'ning thunder of the 

war; 
To Troy they drove him, groaning, from 

the shore, 680 

And sprinkling, as he pass'd, the sands with 

gore. 
Meanwhile fresh slaughter bathes the 

sanguine ground, 
Heaps fall on heaps, and Heav'n and Earth 

resound. 
Bold Aphareus by great ^neas bled; 
As toward the Chief he turn'd his daring 

head, 
He pierc'd his throat; the bending head, 

depress'd 
Beneath his helmet, nods upon his breast; 
His shield revers'd o'er the fall'n warrior 

lies; 
And everlasting slumber seals his eyes. 
Antilochus, as Thoon turn'd him round, 690 
Transpierc'd his back with a dishonest 

wound: 
The hollow vein that to the neck extends 
Along the chine, his eager jav'lin rends: 



Supine he falls, and to his social train 

Spreads his imploring arms, but spreads in 
vain. 

Th' exulting victor, leaping where he lay, 

From his broad shoulders tore the spoils 
away; 

His time observ'd ; for, closed by foes 
around. 

On all sides thick, the peals of arms re- 
sound. 

His shield, emboss'd, the ringing storm sus- 



tains. 



700 



But he impervious and untouch'd remains. 
(Great Neptune's care preserv'd from hos- 
tile rage 
This youth, the joy of Nestor's glorious 

age.) 
In arms intrepid with the first he fought, 
Faced ev'ry foe, and ev'ry danger sought; 
His winged lance, resistless as the wind. 
Obeys each motion of the master's mind: 
Restless it flies, impatient to be free. 
And meditates the distant enemy. 
The son of Asius, Adamas, drew near, 710 
And struck bis target with the brazen 

spear. 
Fierce in his front; but Neptune wards the 

blow. 
And blunts the jav'lin of th' eluded foe. 
In the broad buckler half the weapon stood ; 
Splinter'd on earth flew half the broken 

wood. 
Disarm'd, he mingled in the Trojan crew; 
But Merion's spear o'ertook him as he flew, 
Deep in the belly's rim an entrance found. 
Where sharp the pang, and mortal is the 

wound. 
Bending he fell, and, doubled to the 

ground, 720 

Lay panting. Thus an ox, in fetters tied, 
While death's strong pangs distend his la- 

b'ring side. 
His bulk enormous on the field displays; 
His heaving heart beats thick, as ebbing 

life decays. 
The spear the conqueror from his body 

drew. 
And death's dim shadows swam before his 



view. 



Next brave Deipyrus in dust was laid: 
King Helenus waved high the Thracian 

blade. 
And smote his temples with an arm so strong, 
The helm fell off, and roU'd amid the 

throng; 730 



THE ILIAD 



407 



There, for some luckier Greek it rests a 

prize, 
For dark in death the godlike owner lies! 
With raging grief great Menelaus burns, 
And, fraught with vengeance, to the victor 

turns; 
That shook the pond'rous lance, in act to 

til row, 
And this stood adverse with the bended 

bow: 
Full on his breast the Trojan arrow fell, 
But harmless bounded from the plated 

steel. 
As on some ample barn's well-harden'd 

floor, 739 

(The winds collected at each open door,) 
While the broad fan with force is whirl'd 

around, 
Light leaps the golden grain, resulting from 

the ground: 
So from the steel that guards Atrides' 

heart, 
Repell'd to distance flies the bounding dart. 
Atrides, watchful of th' unwary foe, 
Pierc'd with his lance the hand that grasp'd 

the bow. 
And nail'd it to the yew: the wounded 

hand 
Trail'd the long lance that mark'd with 

blood the sand; 
But good Agenor gently from the wound 
The spear solicits, and the bandage bound; 
A sling's soft wool, snatch'd from a sol- 
dier's side, 751 
At once the tent and ligature supplied. 
Behold! Pisander, urged by Fate's de- 
cree, 
Springs thro' the ranks to fall, and fall by 

thee. 
Great Menelaus! to enhance thy fame; 
High tow'ring in the front, the warrior 

came. 
First the sharp lance was by Atrides 

thrown; 
The lance far distant by the winds was 

blown. 
Nor pierc'd Pisander thro' Atrides' shield; 
Pisander's spear fell shiver'd on the 

field. 760 

Not so discouraged, to the future blind, 
Vain dreams of conquest swell his haughty 

mind; 
Dauntless he rushes where the Spartan lord 
Like lightning brandish'd his far-beaming 

sword. 



His left arm high opposed the shining 

shield; 
His right, beneath, the cover'd pole-axe 

held; 
(An olive's cloudy grain the handle made, 
Distinct with studs; and brazen was the 

blade); 
This on the helm discharged a noble blow; 
The plume dropp'd nodding to the plain 

below, 770 

Shorn from the crest. Atrides waved his 

steel; 
Deep thro' his front the weighty falchion 

fell; 
The crashing bones before its force gave 

way; 
In dust and blood the groaning hero lay; 
Forc'd from their ghastly orbs, and spout- 
ing gore. 
The clotted eye-balls tumble on the shore. 
The fierce Atrides spurn'd him as he bled, 
Tore off his arms, and loud exulting said: 
' Thus, Trojans, thus, at length be taught 

to fear; 
O race perfidious, who delight in war! 780 
Already noble deeds ye have porform'd, 
A Princess raped transcends a navy 

storm'd: 
In such bold feats your impious might ap- 
prove. 
Without th' assistance or the fear of Jove. 
The violated rites, the ravish'd dame, 
Our heroes slaughter'd, and our ships on 

flame. 
Crimes heap'd on crimes, shall bend your 

glory down. 
And whelm in ruins yon flagitious town. 
O thou, great Father, lord of earth and 

skies. 
Above the thought of man, supremely 

wise ! 790 

If from thy hand the fates of mortals 

flow. 
From whence this favour to an impious 

foe, 
A godless crew, abandon'd and unjust. 
Still breathing rapine, violence, and lust ? 
The best of things, beyond their measure, 

cloy; 
Sleep's balmy blessing, love's endearing 

joy; 

The feast, the dance; whate'er mankind 

desire, 
Ev'n the sweet charms of sacred numbers 

tire. 



4o8 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



But Troy for ever reaps a dire delight 

III thirst of slaughter, and in lust of 

fight.' 800 

This said, he seiz'd (while yet the car- 
cass heav'd) 
The bloody armour, wliich his train re- 

ceiv'd: 
Then sudden mix'd among the warring crew, 
And the bold son of Pylaemenes slew. 
Harpalion had thro' Asia travell'd far. 
Following his martial father to the war; 
Thro' filial love he left his native shore, 
Never, ah never, to behold it more! 
His unsuccessful spear he chanc'd to fling 
Against the target of the Spartan king; 810 
Thus of his lance disarm'd, from death he 

flies. 
And turns around his apprehensive eyes. 
Him, thro' the hip transpiercing as he fled. 
The shaft of Merion mingled with the 

dead. 
Beneath the bone the glancing point de- 
scends. 
And, driving down, the swelling bladder 

rends : 
Sunk in his sad companions' arms he lay, 
And in short pantings sobb'd his soul away 
(Like some vile worm extended on the 

ground), 
While life's red torrent gush'd from out 

the wound. 820 

Him on his car the Paphlagonian train 
In slow procession bore from off the plain. 
The pensive father, father now no more! 
Attends the mournful pomp along the 

shore ; 
And unavailing tears profusely shed. 
And unrevenged deplor'd his offspring 

dead. 
Paris from far the moving sight beheld. 
With pity soften'd, and with fury swell'd: 
His honour'd host, a youth of matchless 

grace, 
And lov'd of all the Paphlagonian race! 830 
With his full strength he bent his angry 

bow, 
And wing'd the feather'd vengeance at the 

foe. 
A Chief there was, the brave Euchenor 

named, 
For riches much, and more for virtue, 

famed, 
Who held his seat in Corinth's stately 

town; 
Polydus' SOD, a seer of old renown. 



Oft had the father told his early doom, 

By arms abroad, or slow disease at home: 

He climb'd his vessel, prodigal of breath, 

And chose the certain glorious path to 
death. 840 

Beneath his ear the pointed arrow went; 

The soul came issuing at the narrow vent; 

His limbs, unnerv'd, drop useless on the 
ground, 

And everlasting darkness shades him 
round. 
Nor knew great Hector how his legions 
yield 

(Wrapp'd in the cloud and tumult of the 
field); 

Wide on the left the force of Greece com- 
mands. 

And conquest hovers o'er th' Achaian 
bands: 

With such a tide superior virtue sway'd, 

And he that shakes the solid earth, gave 
aid. 850 

But in the centre Hector fix'd remain'd. 

Where first the gates were forc'd, and bul- 
warks gain'd; 

There, on the margin of the hoary deep 

(Their naval station where th' Ajaces 
keep. 

And where low walls confine the beating 
tides. 

Whose humble barrier scarce the foe di- 
vides; 

Where late in fight both foot and horse 
engaged, 

And all the thunder of the battle raged), 

There join'd, the whole Boeotian strength 
remains. 

The proud lonians with their sweeping 
trains, 860 

Locrians and Phthians, and th' Epeian 
force ; 

But, join'd, repel not Hector's fiery course. 

The flower of Athens, Stichius, Phidas led, 

Bias and great Menestheus at their head. 

Meges the strong th' Epeian bands con- 
troll'd. 

And Dracius prudent, and Amphion bold; 

The Phthians Medon, famed for martial 
might, 

And brave Podarces, active in the fight. 

This drew from Phylacus his noble line, 

Iphiclus' son; and that, Oileus, thine 870 

(Young Ajax' brother, by a stol'n em- 
brace ; 

He dwelt far distant from his native place; 



THE ILIAD 



409 



By his fierce stepdame from his father's 

reign 
Expell'd and exiled for her brother slain) : 
These rule the Phthians, and their arras 

employ, 
Mix'd with Boeotians, on the shores of 

Troy. 
Now side by side, with like unwearied 

care, 
Each Ajax labour'd thro' the field of 

war. 
So when two lordly bulls, with equal toil, 
Force the bright ploughshare thro' the fal- 
low soil, 8S0 
Join'd to one yoke, the stubborn earth they 

tear. 
And trace large furrows with the shining 

share : 
O'er their huge limbs the foam descends in 

snow. 
And streams of sweat down their sour fore- 
heads flow. 
A train of heroes follow'd thro' the field, 
Who bore by turns great Ajax' seven-fold 

shield; 
Whene'er he breathed, remissive of his 

might. 
Tired with th' incessant slaughters of the 

fight. 
No foll'wing troops his brave associate 

grace ; 889 

In close engagement an unpractis'd race. 
The Locrian squadrons nor the jav'lln 

wield, 
Nor bear the helm, nor lift the moony 

shield ; 
But skiird from far the flying shaft to 

wing, 
Or whirl the sounding pebble from the 

sling; 
Dext'rous with these they aim a certain 

wound, 
Or fell the distant warinor to the ground. 
Thus in the van, the Telamonian train, 
Throng'd in bright arms, a pressing fight 

maintain; 
Far in the rear the Locrian archers lie. 
Whose stones and arrows intercept the 

sky : 900 

The mingled tempest on the foes they 

pour; 
Troy's scatt'ring orders open to the shower. 
Now had the Greeks eternal fame 

acquired, 
And the gall'd Ilians to their walls retired; 



But sage Polydamas, discreetly brave, 
Address'd great Hector, and this counsel 

gave: 
' Tho' great in all, thou seem'st averse to 

lend 
Impartial audience to a faithful friend: 
To Gods and men thy matchless worth is 

known. 
And ev'ry art of glorious war thy own; 910 
But in cool thought and counsel to excel. 
How widely differs this from warring well! 
Content with what the bounteous Gods have 

giv'n, 
Seek not alone t' engross the gifts of 

Heav'n. 
To some the powers of bloody war belong, 
To some, sweet music, and the charm of 

song; 
To few, and wondrous few, has Jove as- 

sign'd 
A wise, extensive, all-consid'ring mind; 
Their guardians these the nations round 

confess. 
And towns and empires for their safety 

bless. 920 

If Heav'n have lodg'd this virtue in my 

breast. 
Attend, O Hector, what I judge the best. 
See, as thou mov'st, on dangers dangers 

spread. 
And war's whole fury burns around thy head : 
Behold! distress'd within yon hostile wall. 
How many Trojans yield, disperse, or fall! 
What troops, out-number'd, scarce the war 

maintain! 
And what brave heroes at the ships lie slain! 
Here cease thy fury; and, the Chiefs and 

Kings 
Convoked to council, weigh the sum of 

things. 930 

Whether (the Gods succeeding our desires) 
To yon tall ships to bear the Trojan fires; 
Or quit the fleet, and pass unhurt away, 
Contented with the conquest of the day. 
I fear, I fear, lest Greece (not yet undone) 
Pay the large debt of last revolving sun. 
Achilles, great Achilles, yet remains 
On yonder decks, and yet o'erlooks the 

plains! ' 
The counsel pleas'd; and Hector, withl 

a bound, 
Leap'd from his chariot on the trembling 1 

ground; 94c j 

Swift as he leap'd, his clanging arms re- 
sound. J 



4IO 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



* To guard this post' (he cried) ' thy art 

employ, 
And here detain the scatter'd youth of 

Troy; 
Where youder heroes faint, I bend my way, 
And hasten back to end the doubtful day.' 
This said, the tow'ring Chief prepares" 

to go, 
Shakes his white plumes that to the 

breezes flow. 
And seems a moving mountain topp'd 

with snow. 
Thro' all his host inspiring force, he flies, 
And bids anew the martial thunder 

rise. 950 

To Panthus' son, at Hector's high com- 
mand. 
Haste the bold leaders of the Trojan band: 
But round the battlements, and round the 

plain, 
For many a Chief he look'd, but look'd in 

vain ; 
Deiphobus, nor Helenus the seer, 
Nor Asius' son, nor Asius' self appear. 
For these were pierc'd with many a ghastly 

wound. 
Some cold in death, some groaning on the 

ground ; 
Some low in dust (a mournful object) lay. 
High on the wall some breathed their souls 

away. 960 

Far on the left, amidst the throng he 

found 
(Cheering the troops, and dealing deaths 

around), 
The graceful Paris: whom, with fury 

mov'd. 
Opprobrious, thus th' impatient Chief re- 

prov'd : 
* Ill-fated Paris! slave to womankind^ 
As smooth of face as fraudulent of mind! 
Where is Deiphobus, where Asius gone ? 
The godlike father, and th' intrepid son ? 
The force of Helenus, dispensing fate, 969 
And great Othryoneus, so fear'd of late ? 
Black fate hangs o'er thee from th' aveng- 
ing Gods, 
Imperial Troy from her foundation nods; 
Whelm'd in thy country's ruins shalt thou 

fall, 
And one devouring vengeance swallow all.' 
When Paris thus: ' My brother and my 

friend, 
Thy warm impatience makes thy tongue 

offend. 



In other battles I deserv'd thy blame, 
Tho' then not deedless, nor unknown to 

Fame: 
But since yon rampart by thy arms lay 

low, 979 

I scatter'd slaughter from my fatal bow. 

The Chiefs you seek on yonder shore lie 
slain; 

Of all those heroes, two alone remain; 

Deiphobus, and Helenus the seer: 

Each now disabled by a hostile spear. 

Go then, successful, where thy soul inspires; 

This heart and hand shall second all thy 
fires: 

What with this arm I can, prepare to 
know, 

Till death for death be paid, and blow for 
blow. 

But 't is not ours, with forces not our own 

To combat; strength is of the Gods 
alone.' 990 

These words the hero's angry mind as- 
suage : 

Then fierce they mingle where the thickest 
rage. 

Around Polydamas, distain'd with blood, 

Cebrion, Phalces, stern Orthseus, stood; 

Palmus, with Polypcetes the divine. 

And two bold brothers of Hippotion's line: 

(Who reach'd fair I lion, from Ascania far, 

The former day; the next, engaged in 
war). 

As when from gloomy clouds a whirlwind 
springs. 

That bears Jove's thunder on its dreadful 
wings, 1000 

Wide o'er the blasted fields the tempest 
sweeps. 

Then, gather'd, settles on the hoary deeps; 

Th' aftlicted deeps tumultuous mix and' 
roar; 

The waves behind impel the waves before, 

Wide-rolling, foaming high, and tum- 
bling to the shore: 

Thus rank on rank the chief battalions 
throng, 

Chief urged on Chief, and man drove man 
along: 

Far o'er the plains in dreadful order 
bright. 

The brazen arms reflect a beamy light. 

Full in the blazing van groat Hector 
shined, loio 

Like Mars commission'd to confound man- 
kind. 



THE ILIAD 



411 



Before him flaming, his enormous shield, 
Like the broad sun, illumin'd all the field; 
His nodding helm emits a streamy ray; 
His piercing eyes thro' all the battle stray, 
And, while beneath his targe he flash'd 

along, 
Shot terrors round, that vvither'd ev'u the 

strong. 
Thus stalk'd he dreadful; death was in 

his look; 
Whole nations fear'd; but not an Argive 

shook. 1019 

The tow'ring Ajax, with an ample stride, 
Advanc'd the first, and thus the Chief de- 
fied: 
* Hector! come on, thy empty threats 

forbear: 
'T is not thy arm, 't is thund'ring Jove, we 

fear: 
The skill of war to us not idly giv'n, 
Lo! Greece is humbled, not by Troy, but 

Heav'n. 
Vain are the hopes that haughty mind im- 
parts 
To force our fleet: the Greeks have hands 

and hearts. 
Long ere in flames our lofty navy fall. 
Your boasted city, and your god-built wall. 
Shall sink beneath us, smoking on the 

ground; 1030 

And spread a long unmeasured ruin round. 
The time shall come, when, chased along 

the plain, 
Ev'n thou shalt call on Jove, and call in 

vain ; 
Ev'n thou shalt wish, to aid thy desp'rate 

course, 
The wings of falcons for thy flying horse; 
Shalt run, forgetful of a warrior's fame. 
While clouds of friendly dust conceal thy 

shame.' 
As thus he spoke, behold, in open view, 
On sounding wings a dexter eagle flew. 
To Jove's glad omen all the Grecians 



rise. 



1040 



And hail, with shouts, his progress thro' 
the skies. 

Far-echoing clamours bound from side to 
side; 

They ceas'd; and thus the Chief of Troy 
replied: 
' From whence this menace, this insult- 
ing strain ? 

Enormous boaster! doom'd to vaunt in 
vain. 



So may the Gods on Hector life bestow 
(Not that short life which mortals lead 

below. 
But such as those of Jove's high lineage 

born, 
The Blue-eyed Maid, or He that gilds the 

morn), 
As this decisive day shall end the fame 1050 
Of Greece, and Argos be no more a name. 
And thou, imperious! if thy madness wait 
The lance of Hector, thou shalt meet thy 

fate: 
That giant-corpse, extended on the shore. 
Shall largely feast the fowls with fat and 

gore.' 
He said, and like a lion stalk'd along: 
With shouts incessant earth and ocean 

rung. 
Sent from his foll'wing host. The Grecian 

train 
With answering thunders fiU'd the echoing 

plain ; 
A shout that tore Heav'n's concave, and 

above 1060 

Shook the fix'd splendours of the throne of 

Jove. 



BOOK XIV 

JUNO DECEIVES JUPITER BY THE GIRDLE OF 
VENUS 

THE ARGUMENT 

Nestor, sitting at the table with Machaon, is 
alarmed with the increasing- clamour of the 
war, and hastens to Ag^amemnon : on his 
way he meets that Prince with Diomed and 
Ulysses, whom he informs of the extremity 
of the danger. Agamemnon proposes to 
make their escape by nig-lit, which Ulysses 
withstands ; to which Diomed adds his ad- 
vice, that, wounded as they were, they 
should go forth and encourage the army 
with their presence ; which advice is pur- 
sued. Juno seeing the partiality of Jupiter 
to the Trojans, forms a desig-n to overreach 
him ; she sets off her charms with the ut- 
most care, and (the more surely to enchant 
him) obtains the magic g-irdle of Venus. She 
then applies herself to the God of Sleep, and 
with some difficulty persuades him to seal 
the eyes of Jupiter ; this done, she goes to 
Mount Ida, where the God. at first sight, is 
ravished with her beauty, sinks in her em- 
braces, and is laid asleep. Neptune takes 
advantage of his slumber, and succours the 



412 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Greeks ; Hector is struck to the ground with 
a prodigious stone by Ajax, and carried off 
from the battle : several actions succeed ; 
till the Trojans, much distressed, are obliged 
to give way ; the lesser Ajax signalizes him- 
self in a particular manner. 

But nor the genial feast, nor flowing 
bowl, 

Could charm the cares of Nestor's watch- 
ful soul; 

His startled ears th' increasing cries at- 
tend; 

Then thus, impatient, to his wounded 
friend : 
* What new alarms, divine Machaon, say. 

What mix'd events attend this mighty 
day? 

Hark! how the shouts divide, and how they 
meet, 

And now come full, and thicken to the 
fleet! 

Here, with the cordial draught dispel thy 
care. 

Let Hecamede the strength'ning bath pre- 
pare, lO 

Refresh thy wound, and cleanse the clotted 
gore, 

While I th' adventures of the day explore.' 
He said: and, seizing Thrasymedes' 
shield 

(His valiant offspring), hasten'd to the field 

(That day, the son his father's buckler 
bore) ; 

Then snatch'd a lance, and issued from the 
door. 

Soon as the prospect open'd to his view, 

His wounded eyes the scene of sorrow 
knew; 

Dire disarray! the tumult of the fight. 

The wall in ruins, and the Greeks in 
flight. 20 

As when old Ocean's silent surface sleeps, 

The waves just heaving on the purple 
deeps; 

While yet th' expected tempest hangs on 
high. 

Weighs down the cloud, and blackens in 
the sky, 

The mass of waters will no wind obey; 

Jove sends one gust, and bids them roll 
away. 

While wav'ring counsels thus his mind en- 
gage, 

Fluctuates in doubtful thought the Pylian 
sage; 



To join the host, or to the Gen'ral haste; 
Debating long, he fixes on the last: 30 

Yet, as he moves, the fight his bosom warms; 
The field rings dreadful with the clang of 

arms; 
The gleaming falchions flash, the jav'lins 

fly; 

Blows echo blows, and all or kill or die. 
Him, in his march, the wounded Princes 

meet. 
By tardy steps ascending from the fleet; 
The King of Men, Ulysses the divine, 
And who to Tydeus owes his noble line. 
(Their ships at distance from the battle 

stand. 
In lines advanc'd along the shelving strand; 
Whose bay the fleet unable to contain 41 
At length, beside the margin of the main, 
Bank above rank, the crowded ships they 

moor: 
Who landed first, lay highest on the shore.) 
Supported on their spears they took their 

way. 
Unfit to fight, but anxious for the day. 
Nestor's approach alarm'd each Grecian 

breast. 
Whom thus the Gen'ral of the host ad- 

dress'd: 
' O grace and glory of th' Achaian name ! 
What drives thee, Nestor, from the Field 

of Fame ? 50 

Shall then proud Hector see his boast ful- 

fill'd. 
Our fleets in ashes, and our heroes kill'd ? 
Such was his threat, ah ! now too soon 

made good, 
On many a Grecian bosom writ in blood. 
Is every heart inflamed with equal rage 
Against your King, nor will one Chief en- 
gage ? 
And have I liv'd to see with mournful 

eyes 
In ev'ry Greek a new Achilles rise ? ' 

Gerenian Nestor then : * So Fate has 

will'd ; 59 

And all confirming time has Fate fulfill'd, 
Not he that thunders from th' aerial bower, 
Not Jove himself, upon the past has power. 
The wall, our late inviolable bound, 
And best defence, lies smoking on the 

ground : 
Ev'n to the ships their conquering arms ex- 
tend, 
And groans of slaughter'd Greeks to 

Heav'n ascend. 



THE ILIAD 



413 



On speedy measures then employ your 

thought; 
In such distress if counsel profit aught; 
Arms cannot much : tho' Mars our souls 

incite, 
These gaping wounds withhold us from the 

fight.' 70 

To him the Monarch: ' That our army 

bends, 
Tliat Troy triumphant our high fleet as- 
cends, 
And that the rampart, late our surest trust, 
And best defence, lies smoking in the dust: 
All this, from Jove's afflictive hand we bear, 
Wiio, far from Argos, wills our ruin here, 
Past are the days when happier Greece was 

bless'd. 
And all his favour, all his aid, confess'd; 
Now Heav'n, averse, our hands from bat- 
tle ties. 
And lifts the Trojan glory to the skies. 80 
Cease we at length to waste our blood in 

vain. 
And launch what ships lie nearest to the 

main ; 
Leave these at anchor till the coming 

night; 
Then, if impetuous Troy forbear the fight. 
Bring all to sea, and hoist each sail for 

flight. 

Better from evils, well foreseen, to run. 
Than perish in the danger we may shun.' 

Thus he. The sage Ulysses thus replies. 
While anger flash'd from his disdainful 

eyes: 
* What shameful words (unkingly as thou 

art) go 

Fall from that trembling tongue and tim'- 

rous heart ! 
Oh were thy sway the curse of meaner 

powers. 
And thou the shame of any host but ours ! 
A host, by Jove endued with martial might. 
And taught to conquer, or to fall in fight: 
Adventurous combats and bold wars to 

wage, 
Employ'd our youth, and yet employs our 

age. 
And wilt thou thus desert the Trojan plain ? 
And have whole streams of blood been 

spilt in vain ? 
In such base sentence if thou couch thy 

fear, 100 

Speak it in whispers, lest a Greek should 

hear. 



Lives there a man so dead to fame, who 
dares 

To think such meanness, or the thought de- 
clares ? 

And comes it ev'n from him whose sov'- 
reign sway 

The banded legions of all Greece obey ? 

Is this a Gen'ral's voice, that calls to flight ? 

While war hangs doubtful, while his sol- 
diers fight ? 

What more could Troy ? What yet their 
fate denies 

Thou giv'st the foe : all Greece becomes 
their prize. 

No more the troops (our hoisted sails in 
view, no 

Themselves abandon'd) shall the fight pur- 
sue; 

But thy ships flying with despair shall see, 

And owe destruction to a Prince like thee.* 
' Thy just reproofs ' (Atrides calm re- 
plies) 

* Like arrows pierce me, for thy words are 

wise. 
Unwilling as I am to lose the host, 
I force not Greece to quit this hateful 

coast. 
Glad I submit, whoe'er, or young or old, 
Aught, more conducive to our weal, un- 
fold.' 119 
Tydides cut him short, and thus began: 

* Such counsel if ye seek, behold the man 
Who boldly gives it, and what he shall say, 
Young tho' he be, disdain not to obey: 

A youth, who from the mighty Tydeus 

springs. 
May speak to councils and assembled 

Kings. 
Hear then in me the great CEnides' son, 
Whose honour'd dust (his race of glory 

run) 
Lies whelm'd in ruins of the Theban wall; 
Brave in his life, and glorious in his fall. 
With three bold sons was gen'rous Pro- 

thous bless'd, 130 

Who Pleuron's walls and Calydon possess'd: 
Melas and Agrius, but (who far snrpass'd 
The rest in courage) (Eneus was the last: 
From him, my sire. From Calydon ex- 

pell'd. 
He pass'd to Argos, and in exile dwell'd; 
The Monarch's daughter there (so Jove 

ordain'd) 
He won, and flourish'd where Adrastus 

reign'd: 



414 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



There, rich in fortune's gifts, his acres 

till'd, 
Beheld his vines their liquid harvest yield, 
And numerous flocks that whiten'd all 

the field. 140 j 

Such Tydeus was, the foremost once in 

fame ! 
Nor lives in Greece a stranger to his name. 
Then, what for common good my thoughts 

inspire, 
Attend, and in the son respect the sire. 
Tho' sore of battle, tho' with wounds op- 

prest, 
Let each go forth, and animate the rest, 
Advance the glory which he cannot sliare, 
Tho' not partaker, witness of the war. 
But lest new wounds on wounds o'erpower 

us quite, 149 

Beyond the missile jav'lin's sounding flight. 
Safe let us stand; and, from the tumult 

far, 
Inspire the ranks, and rule the distant war.' 

He added not: the list'ning Kings obey. 
Slow moving on; Atrides leads the way. 
The God of Ocean (to inflame their rage) 
Appears a warrior furrow'd o'er with age; 
Press'd in his own, the Gen'ral's hand he 

took. 
And thus the venerable hero spoke: 

' Atrides, lo ! with what disdainful eye 
Achilles sees his country's forces fly: 160 
Blind impious man ! whose anger is his 

guide, 
Who glories in unutterable pride. 
So may he perish, so may Jove disclaim 
The wretch relentless, and o'er whelm with 

shame ! 
But Heav'n forsakes not thee: o'er yonder 

sands 
Soon shalt thou view the scatter'd Trojan 

bands 
Fly diverse; while proud Kings, and Chiefs 

renown'd, 
Driv'n heaps on heaps, with clouds involv'd 

around 
Of rolling dust, their winged wheels em- 

To hide their ignominious heads in Troy.' 
He spoke, then rush'd among the war- 
rior crew: 171 

And sent his voice before him as he flew. 

Loud, as the shout encount'ring armies 
yield, 

When twice ten thousand shake the la- 
b'ring field; 



Such was the voice, and such the thun- 
d'ring sound 

Of him whose trident rends the solid 
ground. 

Each Argive bosom beats to meet the fight, 

And grisly war appears a pleasing sight. 
Meantime Saturnia from Olympus' brow. 

High-throned in gold, beheld the fields be- 
low; 180 

With joy the glorious conflict she survey'd, 

Where her great brother gave the Grecians 
aid. 

But placed aloft, on Ida's shady height 

She sees her Jove, and trembles at the 
sight. 

Jove to deceive, what methods shall she 
try, 

What arts, to blind his all-beholding eye ? 

At length she trusts her power; resolv'd 
to prove 

The old, yet still successful, cheat of love; 

Against his wisdom to oppose her charms, 

And lull the Lord of Thunders in her 
arms. 190 

Swift to her bright apartment she re- 
pairs. 

Sacred to dress, and beauty's pleasing 
cares : 

With skill divine had Vulcan form'd the 
bower, 

Safe from access of each intruding power. 

Touch'd with her secret key, the doors un- 
fold 

Self-closed, behind her shut the valves of 
gold. 

Here first she bathes; and round her body 
pours 

Soft oils of fragrance, and ambrosial 
showers: 

The winds, perfumed, the balmy gale con- 
vey 

Thro' Heav'n, thro' earth, and all th' aerial 
way; 200 

Spirit divine ! whose exhalation greets 

The sense of Gods with more than mortal 
sweets. 

Thus while she breathed of Heav'n, with 
decent pride 

Her artful hands the radiant tresses tied; 

Part on her head in shining ringlets roU'd, 

Part o'er her shoulders waved like melted 
gold. 

Around her next a heav'nly mantle flow'd, 

That rich with Pallas' labour'd colours 
glow'd; 



THE ILIAD 



415 



Large clasps of gold the foldings gather'd 

round, 209 

A golden zone her swelling bosom bound. 
Far-beaming pendants tremble in her ear, 
Each gem illumin'd with a triple star. 
Then o'er her head she cast a veil more 

white 
Than new-fall'n suow, and dazzling as the 

light. 
Last her fair feet celestial sandals grace. 
Thus issuing radiant, with majestic pace, 
Forth from the dome th' imperial Goddess 

moves, 
And calls the mother of the smiles and loves. 
' How long ' (to Venus thus apart she 

cried) 

* Shall human strife celestial minds divide ? 
Ah yet, will Venus aid Saturnia's joy, 221 
And set aside the cause of Greece and 

Troy ? ' 

* Let Heav'n's dread Empress ' (Cytherea 

said) 

* Speak her request, and deem her will 

obey'd.' 
* Then grant me ' (said the Queen) ' those 

conquering charms. 
That Power, which mortals and immortals 

warms. 
That love, which melts mankind in fierce 

desires. 
And burns the sons of Heav'n with sacred 

fires ! 
For lo ! I haste to those remote abodes. 
Where the great parents (sacred source of 

Gods !) 230 

Ocean and Tetliys their old empire keep. 
On the last limits of the land and deep. 
In their kind arms my tender years were 

pass'd; 
What time old Saturn, from Olympus cast, 
Of upper Heav'n to Jove resign'd the 

reign, 
Whelm'd under the huge mass of earth and 

main. 
For strife, I hear, has made the union 

cease, 
Which held so long that ancient pair in 

peace. 
What honour, and what love, shall I ob- 
tain. 
If I compose those fatal feuds again ? 240 
Once more their minds in mutual ties en- 
gage. 
And what my youth has owed, repay their 

age.' 



She said. With awe divine the Queen 
of Love 

Obey'd the sister and the wife of Jove; 

And from her fragrant breast the zone un- 
braced. 

With various skill and high embroid'ry 
graced. 

In this was ev'ry art, and ev'ry charm. 

To win the wisest, and the coldest warm: 

Fond love, the gentle vow, the gay desire, 

The kind deceit, the still reviving fire; 250 

Persuasive speech, and more persuasive 
sighs. 

Silence that spoke, and eloquence of eyes. 

This on her hand the Cyprian Goddess laid; 

' Take this, and with it all thy wish,' she 
said : 

With smiles she took the charm; and smil- 
ing press'd 

The powerful cestus to her snowy breast. 
Then Venus to the courts of Jove with- 
drew; 

Whilst from Olympus pleas'd Saturnia 
flew. 

O'er high Pieria thence her course she bore. 

O'er fair Emathia's ever-pleasing shore, 260 

O'er Hsemus' hills with snows eternal 
crown'd: 

Nor once her flying foot approaeh'd the 
ground. 

Then taking wing from Athos' lofty steep, ' 

She speeds to Lemnos o'er the rolling 
deep, y 

And seeks the cave of Death's half 
brother. Sleep. 
' Sweet pleasing Sleep ! ' (Saturnia thus 
began) 

' Who spread'st thy empire o'er each God 
and man; 

If e'er obsequious to thy Juno's will, 

O Powerof Slumbers ! hear, and favour still. 

Shed thy soft dews on Jove's immortal 
eyes, 270 

While sunk in love's entrancing joys he 
lies. 

A splendid footstool, and a throne, that 
shine 

With gold unfading, Somnus, shall be thine; 

The work of Vulcan, to indulge thy ease. 

When wine and feasts thy golden humours 
please.' 
' Imperial Dame ' (the balmy Power re- 
plies), 

* Great Saturn's heir, and Empress of the 
Skies ! 



4i6 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



O'er other Gods I spread my easy chain; 
The sire of all, old Ocean, owns my reign, 
And his hush'd waves lie silent on the 

main. 280 _ 

But how, unbidden, shall I dare to steep 
Jove's awful temples in the dew of sleep ? 
Long since, too venturous, at thy bold com- 
mand, 
On those eternal lids I laid my hand; 
What time, deserting Ilion's wasted plain, 
His conquering son, Alcides, plough'd the 

main : 
When lo ! the deeps arise, the tempests 

roar, 
And drive the hero to the Coan shore; 
Great Jove, awaking, shook the bless'd 

abodes 
With rising wrath, and tumbled Gods on 

Gods; 290 

Me chief he sought, and from the realms 

on high 
Had hurl'd indignant to the nether sky, 
But gentle Night, to whom I fled for aid 
(The friend of Earth and Heav'n), her 

wings display'd; 
Empower'd the wrath of Gods and men to 

tame, 
Ev'n Jove revered the venerable dame.' 
' Vain are th}^ fears ' (the Queen of 

Heav'n replies. 
And, speaking, rolls her large majestic 

eyes) ; 
* Think'st thou that Troy has Jove's high 

favour won, 299 

Like great Alcides, his all-conquering son ? 
Hear, and obey the Mistress of the Skies, 
Nor for the deed expect a vulgar prize: 
For know, thy lov'd-one shall be ever 

thine. 
The youngest Grace, Pasithae the divine.' 
' Swear then ' (he said) ' by those tre- 
mendous floods, 
That roar thro' Hell, and bind th' invoking 

Gods: 
Let the great parent earth one hand sustain, 
And stretch the other o'er the sacred main: 
Call the black Titans that with Cronos 

dwell, 
To hear and witness from the depths of 

Hell; 310 

That she, my lov'd-one, shall be ever mine. 
The youngest Grace, Pasithae the divine.' 
The Queen assents, and from th' infernal 

bowers 
Invokes the sable subtartarean powers. 



And those who rule th* inviolable floods, 
Whom mortals name the dread Titanian 

Gods. 
Then, swift as wind, o'er Lemnos' smoky 

isle, 
They wing their way, and Imbrus' sea- 
beat soil, 
Thro' air, unseen, involv'd in darkness 

glide, 319 

And light on Lectos, on the point of Ide 
(Mother of savages, whose echoing hills 
Are heard resounding with a hundred rills) ; 
Fair Ida trembles underneath the God; 
Hush'd are her mountains, and her forests 

nod. 
There, on a fir, whose spiry branches rise 
To join its summit to the neighb'ring skies, 
Dark in embow'ring shade, conceal'd from 

sight. 
Sat Sleep, in likeness of the bird of night 
(Chalcis his name with those of heav'nly 

birth, 

But called Cymindis by the race of earth). 

To Ida's top successful Juno flies; 331 

Great Jove surveys her with desiring eyes: 

The God, whose lightning sets the Heav'ns 

on fire. 
Thro' all his bosom feels the fierce desire; 
Fierce as when first by stealth he seiz'd her 

charms, 
Mix'd with her soul, and melted in her 

arms. 
Fix'd on her eyes he fed his eager look, 
Then press'd her hand, and then with trans- 
port spoke: 
' Why comes my Goddess from th' ethereal 

sky, 
And not her steeds and flaming chariot 

nigh ! ' 340 

Then she — ' I haste to those remote 

abodes. 
Where the great parents of the deathless 

Gods, 
The rev'rend Ocean and great Tethys, 

reign, 
On the last limits of the land and main. 
I visit these, to whose indulgent cares 
I owe the nursing of my tender years. 
For strife, I hear, has made that union 

cease, 
Which held so long this ancient pair in 

peace. 
The steeds, prepared my chariot to convey 
O'er earth and seas, and thro' th' aerial 

way, 350 



THE ILIAD 



417 



Wait under Ide : of thy superior power 
To ask consent, I leave th' Olympian 

bower; 
Nor seek, unknown to thee, the sacred cells 
Deep under seas, where hoary Ocean 

dwells.* 
* For that ' (said Jove) * suffice another 

day; 
But eager love denies the least delay. 
Let softer cares the present hour employ. 
And be these moments sacred all to joy. 
Ne'er did my soul so strong a passion 

prove. 
Or for an earthly, or a lieav'nly love ; 360 
Not wlien I press'd Ixion's matchless dame, 
Whence rose Pirithous, like the Gods in 

fame. 
Not when fair Danae felt the shower of 

gold 
Stream into life, whence Perseus brave and 

bold. 
Not thus I burn'd for either Theban dame 
(Bacchus from this, from that Alcides 

came). 
Not Phcenix' daughter, beautiful and 

young, 
Whence Godlike Rhadamanth and Minos 

sprung; 
Not thus I liurn'd for fair Latona's face, 
Nor comelier Ceres' more majestic grace. 
Not thus ev'n for thyself I felt desire, 371 
As now my veins receive the pleasing 

fire.' 
He spoke; the Goddess with the charm- 
ing eyes 
Glows with celestial red, and thus replies: 
' Is this a scene for love ? On Ida's height. 
Exposed to mortal and immortal sight; 
Our joys profaned by each familiar eye; 
The sport of Heav'n, and fable of the sky ! 
How shall I e'er review the bless'd abodes. 
Or mix among the Senate of the Gods ? 380 
Shall I not think, that, with disorder'd 

charms. 
All Heav'n beholds me recent from thy 

arms ? 
With skill divine has Vulcan form'd thy 

bower. 
Sacred to love and to the genial hour; 
If such thy will, to that recess retire, 
And secret there indulge thy soft desire.' 
She ceas'd: and smiling with superior 

love. 
Thus answer'd mild the cloud-compelling 

Jove: 



' Not God nor mortal shall our joys be- 
hold. 
Shaded with clouds, and ciicumfused in 

gold ; 390 

Not ev'n the sun, who darts thro' Heav'n 

his rays, 
And whose broad eye th' extended earth 

surveys.' 
Gazing he spoke, and, kindling at the 

view. 
His eager arms around the Goddess threw. 
Glad Earth perceives, and from her bosom 

pours 
Unbidden herbs, and voluntary flowers; 
Thick new-born violets a soft carpet 

spread. 
And clust'ring lotos swell'd the rising bed. 
And sudden hyacinths the turf bestrow, 
And flamy crocus made the mountain 

glow. 400 

There golden clouds conceal the heav'nly 

pair, 
Steep'd in soft joys, and circumfused with 

air; 
Celestial dews, descending o'er the ground, 
Perfume the mount, and breathe ambrosia 

round. 
At length with Love and Sleep's soft power 

oppress'd, 
The panting Thund'rer nods, and sinks to 

rest. 
Now to the navy borne on silent wings. 
To Neptune's ear soft Sleep his message 

brings; 
Beside him sudden, unperceiv'd he stood. 
And thus with gentle words address'd the 

God: 410 

' Now, Neptune ! now, th' important hour 

employ. 
To check awhile the haughty hopes of 

Troy: 
While Jove yet rests, while yet my va- 
pours shed 
The golden vision round his sacred head ; 
For Juno's love, and Somnus' pleasing ties. 
Have closed those awful and eternal eyes.' 
Thus having said, the Power of Slumber 

flew. 
On human lids to drop the balmy dew. 
Neptune, with zeal increas'd, renews his 

care, 
And tow'ring in the foremost ranks of 

war, 420 

Indignant thus: ' Oh once of martial fame! 
O Greeks! if yet ye can deserve the name! 



4i8 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



This half-recover'd day shall Troy obtain ? 
Shall Hector thunder at your ships again ? 
Lo, still he vaunts, and threats the fleet 

with fires, 
While stern Achilles in his wrath retires. 
One hero's loss too tamely you deplore, 
Be still yourselves, and we shall need no 

more. 
Oh yet, if glory any bosom warms, 
Brace on your firmest lielms, and stand to 

arms: 430 

His strongest spear each valiant Grecian 

wield, 
Each valiant Grecian seize his broadest 

shield; 
Let to the weak the lighter arms belong, 
The pond'rous targe be wielded by the 

strong. 
Thus arm'd, not Hector shall our presence 

stay; 
Myself, 3^e Greeks! myself will lead the 

way,' 
The troops assent; their martial arms 

they change. 
The busy chiefs their banded legions range. 
The Kings, tho' wounded, and oppress'd 

with pain. 
With helpful hands themselves assist the 

train. 440 

The strong and cumbrous arms the valiant 

wield. 
The weaker warrior takes a lighter shield. 
Thus sheathed in shining brass, in bright 

array 
The legions march, and Neptune leads the 

way: 
His brandish'd falchion flames before their 

eyes. 
Like lightning flashing thro' the frighted 

skies. 
Clad in his might th' earth-shaking Power 

appears; 
Pale mortals tremble, and confess their 

fears. 
Troy's great defender stands alone un- 

aw'd. 
Arms his proud host, and dares oppose a 

God : 4SC 

And lo ! the God and wondrous man ap- 
pear; 
The sea's stern ruler there, and Hector here. 
The roaring main, at her great master's 

call, 
Rose in huge ranks, and form'd a wat'ry 

wall 



Around the ships, seas hanging o'er the 

shores; 
Both armies join; earth thunders, ocean 

roars. 
Not half so loud the bell'wing deeps re- 
sound, 
When stormy winds disclose the dark pro- 
found ; 
Less loud the winds that from th' JEolian 

hall 
Roar thro' the woods, and make whole 
forests fall; 460 

Less loud the woods, when flames in tor- 
rents pour, 
Catch the dry mountain and its shades de- 
vour. 
With such a rage the meeting hosts are 

driv'n. 
And such a clamour shakes the sounding 
Heav'n. 
The first bold jav'lin, urged by Hector's 
force. 
Direct at Ajax' bosom wing'd its course; 
But there no pass the crossing belts afford 
(One braced his shield, and one sustain'd 

his sword). 
Then back the disappointed Trojan drew, 
And curs'd the lance that unavailing flew: 470 
But 'scaped not Ajax; his tempestuous 

hand 
A pond'rous stone up-heaving from the 

sand 
(Where heaps, laid loose beneath the war- 

rior's feet. 
Or serv'd to ballast, or to prop the fleet), 
Toss'd round and round, the missive mar- 
ble flings; 
On the rais'd shield the falling ruin rings, 
Full on his breast and throat with force de- 
scends; 
Nor deaden'd there its giddy fury spends, 
But, whirling on, with many a fiery round. 
Smokes in the dust, and ploughs into the 
ground. 480 

As when the bolt, red-hissing from above. 
Darts on the consecrated plant of Jove, 
The mountain-oak in flaming ruin lies. 
Black from the blow, and smokes of sulphur 

rise: 
Stiff with amaze the pale beholders stand, 
And own the terrors of th' almighty hand ! 
So lies great Hector prostrate on the 

shore ; 
His slacken'd hand deserts the lance it 
bore; 



THE ILIAD 



419 



His foll'wing shield the fallen chief o'er- 

spiead; 
Beneath his helmet dropp'd his fainting 

head ; 490 

His load of armonr, sinking to the ground, 
Clanks on the field: a dead and hollow 

sound. 
Loud shouts of triumph fill the crowded 

plain ; 
Greece sees, in hope, Troy's great defender 

slain: 
All spring to seize him: storms of arrows 

fly; 

And thicker jav'lins intercept the sky. 
In vain an iron tempest hisses round: 
He lies protected and without a wound. 
Polydamas, Agenor the divine, 
The pious warrior of Anchises' line, 500 
And each bold leader of the Lysian band, 
With cov'ring shields (a friendly circle) 

stand. 
His mournful foll'wers, with assistant care, 
The groaning hero to his chariot bear; 
His foaming coursers, swifter than the 

wind 
Speed to the town, and leave the war be- 
hind. 
When now they touch'd the mead's 

enamell'd side, 
Where gentle Xanthus rolls his easy tide, 
With wat'ry drops the chief they sprinkle 

round. 
Placed on the margin of the flowery 

ground. 510 

Rais'd on his knees, he now ejects the gore ; 
Now faints anew, low sinking on the shore: 
By fits he breathes, half views the fleeting 

skies. 
And seals again, by fits, his swimming 

eyes. 
Soon as the Greeks the chief's retreat 

beheld, 
With double fury each invades the field. 
Oilean Ajax first his jav'lin sped, 
Pierc'd by whose point the son of Enops 

bled 
(Satnius the brave, whom beauteous Neis 

bore 
Amidst her flocks, on Satnio's silver 

shore). 520 

Struck thro' the belly's rim, the warrior lies 
Supine, and shades eternal veil his eyes. 
An arduous battle rose around the dead; 
By turns the Greeks, by turns the Trojans, 

bled. 



Fired with revenge, Polydamas drew 

near. 
And at Prothoenor shook the trembling 

spear: 
The driving jav'lin thro' his shoulder thrust, 
He sinks to earth, and grasps the bloody 

dust. 

* Lo ! thus ' (the Victor cries) * we rule 

the field, 
And thus their arms the race of Panthus 

wield: 530 

From this unerring hand there fhes no 

dart. 
But bathes its point within a Grecian heart. 
Propp'd on that spear to which thou ow'st 

thy fall, 
Go, guide thy darksome steps to Pluto's 

dreary hall.' 
He said, and sorrow touch'd each Argive 

breast ; 
The soul of Ajax burn'd above the rest. 
As by his side the groaning warrior fell, 
At the fierce foe he lanc'd his piercing 

steel; 
The foe, reclining, shunn'd the flying death ; 
But Fate, Archilochus, demands thy 

breath ; 540 

Thy lofty birth no succour could impart. 
The wings of death o'ertook thee on the 

dart: 
Swift to perform Heav'n's fatal will it fled, 
Full on the juncture of the neck and head, 
And took the joint, and cut the nerves in 

twain ; 
The drooping head first tumbled to the 

plain: 
So just the stroke, that yet the body stood 
Erect, then roll'd along the sands in blood. 

* Here, proud Polydamas, here turn thy 

eyes ! ' 
The tow'ring Ajax loud-insulting cries: 550 
* Say, is this chief, extended on the plain, 
A worthy vengeance for Prothcenor slain ? 
Mark well his port ! his figure and his face 
Nor speak him vulgar, nor of vulgar race; 
Some lines, methinks, may make his lineage 

known, 
Antenor's brother, or perhaps his son.' 
He spake, and smil'd severe, for well he 

knew 
The bleeding youth: Troy sadden'd at the 

view. 
But furious Acamas avenged his cause; 
As Promachus his slaughter'd brother 
draws, 560 



420 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



He pierc'd bis heart — ' Such fate attends 

you all, 
Proud Argives ! destin'd by our arms to 

fall. 
Not Troy alone, but haughty Greece, shall 

share 
The toils, the sorrows, and the wounds of 

war. 
Behold your Promachus deprived of breath, 
A victim owed to my brave brother's death. 
Not unappeas'd he enters Pluto's gate, 
Who leaves a brother to revenge his fate.' 
Heart-piercing anguish struck the Gre- 
cian host, 
But touch'd the breast of bold Peneleus 

most: 570 

At the proud boaster he directs his course; 
The boaster flies, and shuns superior force. 
But young Ilioneus receiv'd the spear; 
Ilioneus, his father's ouly care 
(Phorbas the rich, of all the Trojan train 
Whom Hermes lov'd, and taught the arts 

of gaiu): 
Full in his eye the weapon chanc'd to fall, 
And from the fibres scoop'd the rooted ball. 
Drove thro' the neck, and hurl'd him to 

the plain: 
He lifts his miserable arms in vain ! 5S0 
Swift his broad falchion fierce Peneleus 

spread, 
And from the spouting shoulders struck his 

head ; 
To earth at once the head and helmet fly: 
The lance, yet sticking thro' the bleeding 

eye, 
The victor seiz'd; and as aloft he shook 
The gory visage, thus insulting spoke: 

' Trojans ! your great Ilioneus beheld ! 
Haste, to his father let the tale be told. 
Let his high roofs resound with frantic woe. 
Such as the house of Promachus must 

know; 590 

Let doleful tidings greet his mother's ear. 
Such as to Promachus' sad spouse we bear; 
When we victorious shall to Greece return, 
And the pale matron in our triumphs 

mourn.' 
Dreadful he spoke, then toss'd the head 

on high; 
The Trojans hear, they tremble, and they fly: 
Aghast they gaze around the fleet and wall. 
And dread the ruin that impends on all. 
Daughters of Jove ! that on Olympus 

shine, 
Ye all beholding, all-recording Nine ! 600 



O say, when Neptune made proud Ilion 

yield, 
What Chief, what hero, first imbrued the 

field? 
Of all the Grecians, what immortal name, 
And whose bless'd trophies, will ye raise to 

Fame ? 
Thou first, great Ajax ! on th' ensan- 

guin'd plain 
Laid Hyrtius, leader of the Mysian train. 
Phalces and Mermer, Nestor's son o'er- 

threw, 
Bold Merion, Morys and Hippotion slew. 
Strong Peripheetes and Prothoon bled, 
By Teucer's arrows mingled with the 

dead. 610 

Pierc'd in the flank by Menelaus' steel, 
His people's pastor, Hyperenor fell; 
Eternal darkness wrapp'd the warrior 

round, 
And the fierce soul came rushing thro' the 

wound. 
But stretch'd in heaps before Oi'leus' son. 
Fall mighty numbers, mighty numbers 

run, 
Ajax the less, of all the Grecian race 
Skill'd in pursuit, and swiftest in the chase. 

BOOK XV 

THE FIFTH BATTLE, AT THE SHIPS; AND 
THE ACTS OF AJAX 

THE ARGUMENT 

Jupiter, awaking, sees the Trojans repulsed 
from the trenches, Hector in a swoon, and 
Neptune at the head of the Greeks ; he is 
highly incensed at the artifice of Juno, who 
appeases him by her submissions ; she is 
then sent to Iris and Apollo. Juno, repair- 
ing- to the assembly of the Gods, attempts 
with extraordinary address to incense them 
against Jupiter ; in particular she tonches 
Mars with a violent resentment ; he is ready 
to take arms, but is prevented by Minerva. 
Iris and Apollo obey the orders of Jupiter; 
Iris commands Neptune to leave the battle, 
to which, after much reluctance and passion, 
he consents. Apollo reinspires Hector with 
vigour, brings him back to the battle, 
marches before him with his fegis. and turns 
the fortune of the fight. He breaks doAvn a 
great part of the Grecian wall ; the Trojans 
rush in. and attempt to fire tlie first line of 
the fleet, but are yet repelled by the greater 
Ajax with a prodigious slaughter. 



THE ILIAD 



421 



Now in swift flight they pass the trench 

profound, 
And many a Chief lay gasping on the ground ; 
Then stopp'd and panted, where the chariots 

lie; 
Fear on their cheek, and horror in their eye. 
Meanwhile, awaken'd from his dream of 

love, 
On Ida's summit sat imperial Jove; 
Round the wide fields he cast a careful 



view. 



There saw the Trojans fly, the Greeks pur- 



sue: 



These proud in arms, those scatter'd o'er 

the plain; 
And, midst the war, the Monarch of the 

Main. 10 

Not far, great Hector on the dust he spies 
(His sad associates round with weeping 

eyes), 
Ejecting blood, and panting yet for breath. 
His senses wand'riug to the verge of death. 
The God beheld him with a pitying look, 
And thus, incens'd, to fraudful Juno spoke: 
* O thou, still adverse to th' eternal will. 
For ever studious in promoting ill ! 
Thy arts have made the godlike Hector 

yield, _ 
And driv'n his conquering squadrons from 

the field. 20 

Canst thou, unhappy in thy wiles ! with- 
stand 
Our power immense, and brave th' almighty 

hand ? 
Hast thou forgot, when, bound and fix'd on 

high, 
From the vast concave of the spangled sky, 
I hung thee trembling in a golden chain; 
And all the raging Gods opposed in vain ? 
Headlong I hurl'd them from th' Olympian 

hall, 
Stunn'd in the whirl, and breathless with 

the fall. 
For godlike Hercules these deeds were 

done, 
Nor seem'd the vengeance worthy such a 

son ; 30 

When, by thy wiles induced, fierce Boreas 

toss'd 
The shipwreck'd hero on the Coan coast: 
Him thro' a thousand forms of death I bore. 
And sent to Argos, and his native shore. 
Hear this, remember, and our fury dread. 
Nor pull th' unwilling vengeance on thy 

head; 



Lest arts and blandishments successless 

prove, 
Thy soft deceits, and well-dissembled love.' 
The Thund'rer spoke : imperial Juno 

mourn'd. 
And, trembling, these submissive words re- 

turn'd: 40 

' By ev'ry oath that powers immortal ties. 
The foodful earth, and all infolding skies. 
By thy black waves, tremendous Styx ! that 

flow 
Thro' the drear realms of gliding ghosts 

below: 
By the dread honours of thy sacred head, 
And that unbroken vow, our virgin bed ! 
Not by my arts the ruler of the main 
Steeps Troy in blood, and ranges round the 

plain : 
By his own ardour, his own pity, sway'd 
To help his Greeks; he fought, and dis- 
obey 'd: 50 
Else had thy Juno better counsels giv'n. 
And taught submission to the Sire of 

Heav'n.' 
' Thinkst thou with me ? fair Empress of 

the Skies ! ' 
Th' immortal Father with a smile replies: 
* Then soon the haughty Sea-God shall obey, 
Nor dare to act, but when we point the way. 
If truth inspires thv tongue, proclaim our 

will 
To yon bright Synod on th' Olympian Hill; 
Our high decree let various Iris know, 
And call the God that bears the silver bow. 
Let her descend, and from th' embattled 

plain 61 

Command the Sea-God to his wat'ry reign: 
While Phcebus hastes great Hector to pre- 
pare 
To rise afresh, and once more wake the war; 
His lab'ring bosom re-inspires with breath, 
And calls his senses from the verge of 

death. 
Greece, chased by Troy ev'n to Achilles' 

fleet, 
Shall fall by thousands at the hero's feet. 
He, not untouch'd with pity, to the plain 
Shall send Patroclus, but shall send in vain. 
What youths he slaughters under llion's 

walls ! 71 

Ev'n my lov'd son, divine Sarpedon, falls I 
Vanqnish'd at last by Hector's lance he 

lies, 
Then, not till then, shall great Achilles 

rise: 



422 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



And lo ! that instant, godlike Hector dies. 
From that great hour the war's whole for- 
tune turns, 
Pallas assists, and lofty Ilion burns. 
Not till that day shall Jove relax his rage, 
Nor one of all the heav'nly host engage 
In aid of Greece. The promise of a God 80 
I gave, and seal'd it with th' almighty nod, 
Achilles' glory to the stars to raise; 
Such was our word, and Fate the word 

obeys.' 
The trembling Queen (th' almighty 

order given) 
Swift from th' Idsean summit shot to 

Heav'n. 
As some wayfaring man, who wanders 

o'er. 
In thought, a length of lands he trod be- 
fore, 
Sends forth his active mind from place to 

place. 
Joins hill to dale, and measures space with 

space: 
So swift flew Juno to the blest abodes, 90 
If thought of man can match the speed of 

Gods. 
There sat the Powers in awful Synod 

placed: 
They bow'd, and made obeisance as she 

pass'd. 
Thro' all the brazen dome: with goblets 

crown'd 
They hail her queen; the nectar streams 

around. 
Fair Themis first presents the golden bowl, 
And anxious asks what cares disturb her 

soul ? 
To whom the white-arm'd Goddess thus 

replies: 
* Enough thou know'st the Tyrant of the 

Skies ; 
Severely bent his purpose to fulfil, 100 

Unmov'd his mind, and unrestrain'd his 

will. 
Go thou, the feasts of Heav'n attend thy 

call; 
Bid the crown'd nectar circle round the 

hall; 
But Jove shall thunder thro' th' ethereal 

dome 
Such stern decrees, such threaten'd woes to 

come. 
As soon shall freeze mankind with dire sur- 
prise. 
And damp th' eternal banquets of the skies.' 



The Goddess said, and sullen took her 

place: 
Blank horror sadden'd each celestial face. 
To see the gath'ring grudge in every 

breast, no 

Smiles on her lips a spleenful joy express'd. 
While on her wrinkled front, and eyebrow 

bent, 
Sat steadfast care, and low'ring discon- 
tent. 
Thus she proceeds: ' Attend, ye Powers 

above ! 
But know, 't is madness to contest with 

Jove: 
Supreme he sits; and sees, in pride of 

sway, 
Your vassal Godheads grudgingly obey; 
Fierce in the majesty of power controls. 
Shakes all the thrones of Heav'n, and bends 

the poles. 
Submiss, immortals! all he wills, obey; 120 
And thou, great Mars, begin and show the 

way. 
Behold Asealaphus! behojd him die, 
But dare not murmur, dare not vent a sigh; 
Thy own lov'd boasted offspring lies o'er- 

thrown, 
If that lov'd boasted offspring be thy own.' 
Stern Mars, with anguish for his slaugh- 

ter'd son. 
Smote his rebelling breast, and fierce be- 
gun: 
'Thus then, Immortals! thus shall Mars 

obey ? 
Forgive me, Gods, and yield my vengeance 

way: 
Descending first to yon forbidden plain, 130 
The God of Battles dares avenge the slain; 
Dares, tho' the thunder bursting o'er my 

head 
Should hurl me blazing on those heaps of 

dead.' 
With that, he gives command to Fear 

and Flight 
To join his rapid coursers for the fight: 
Then grim in arms, with hasty vengeance 

flies; 
Arms, that reflect a radiance thro' the 

skies. 
And now had Jove, by bold rebellion driv'n, 
Discharged his wrath on half the host of 

Heav'n; 139 

But Pallas springing thro' the bright abode, 
Starts from her azure throne to calm tha 

God. 



THE ILIAD 



423 



Struck for th' immortal race with timely 

fear, 
From frantic Mars she snatch'd the shield 

and spear; 
Then the huge helmet lifting from his 

head, 
Thus to th' impetuous homicide she said: 
'By what wild passion, furious! art thou 

toss'd ? 
Strivest thou with Jove ? thou art already 

lost. 
Shall not the Thund'rer's dread command 

restrain, 
And was imperial Juno heard in vain ? 
Back to the skies would'st thou with shame 

be driv'n, 150 

And in thy guilt involve the host of Heav'n? 
Ilion and Greece no more shall Jove en- 
gage; 
The skies would yield an ampler scene of 

rage. 
Guilty and guiltless find an equal fate, 
And one vast ruin whelm th' Olympian 

state. 
Cease then thy offspring's death unjust to 

call; 
Heroes as great have died, and yet shall 

fall. 
Why should'Heav'n's law with foolish man 

comply. 
Exempted from tlie race ordain'd to die ? ' 
This menace fix'd the warrior to his 

throne; 160 

Sullen he sat, and curb'd the rising groan. 
Then Juno call'd (Jove's orders to obey) 
The winged Iris, and the God of Day. 
* Go wait the Thund'rer's will ' (Saturnia 

cried), 
' On yon tall summit of the fountful Ide: 
There in the Father's awful presence stand. 
Receive and execute his dread command,' 
She said, and sat. The God that gilds 

the day, 
And various Iris, wing their airy way. 
Swift as the wind, to Ida's hills they came 
(Fair nurse of fountains, and of savage 

game); 171 

There sat th' Eternal; he whose nod con- 
trols 
The trembling world, and shakes the steady 

poles. 
Veil'd in a mist of fragrance him they 

found, 
With clouds of gold and purple circled 

round. 



Well-pleas'd the Thund'rer saw their ear- 
nest care, 
And prompt obedience to the Queen of 

Air; 
Then (while a smile serenes his awful brow) 
Commands the Goddess of the Showery 

Bow: 

' Iris! descend, and what we here ordain 

Report to yon mad tyrant of the main, 181 

Bid him from fight to his own deeps repair, 

Or breathe from slaughter in the fields of 

air. 
If he refuse, then let him timely weigh 
Our elder birthright, and superior sway. 
How shall his rashness stand the dire 

alarms, 
If Heav'n's omnipotence descend in arms ? 
Strives he with me, by whom his power 

was giv'n, 
And is there equal to the Lord of Heav'n ? * 
Th' Almighty spoke; the Goddess wing'd 

her flight 190 

To sacred Ilion from th' Idsean height. 
Swift as the rattling hail or fleecy snows 
Drive thro' the skies, when Boreas fiercely 

blows ; 
So from the clouds descending Iris falls; 
And to blue Neptune thus the Goddess 

calls: 
' Attend the mandate of the Sire above, 
In me behold the Messenger of Jove: 
He bids thee from forbidden wars repair 
To thy own deeps, or to the fields of air. 
This if refused, he bids thee timely weigh 
His elder birthright, and superior sway. 201 
How shall thy rashness stand the dire 

alarms, 
If Heav'n's omnipotence descend in arms ? 
Strivest thou with him, by whom all power 

is giv'n ? 
And art thou equal to the lord of Heav'n ? ' 
* What means the haughty Sov'reign of 

the Skies ? ' 
(The King of Ocean thus, incens'd, replies): 
' Rule as he will his portion'd realms on 

high, 
No vassal God, nor of his train, am I. 209 
Three brother deities from Saturn came. 
And ancient Rhea, earth's immortal dame: 
Assign'd by lot, our triple rule we know : 
Infernal Pluto sways the shades below; 
O'er the wide clouds, and o'er the starry 

plain. 
Ethereal Jove extends his high domain; 
My court beneath the hoary waves I keep, 



424 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



And hush the roarings of the sacred deep: 
Olympus, and this earth, in common lie; 
What claim has here the Tyrant of the 

Far in the distant clouds let him control, 
And awe the younger brothers of the pole; 
There to his children his commands be 

giv'n, 222 

The trembling, servile, second race of 

Heav'n.' 

* And must I then ' (said she), ' O Sire of 

floods! 
Bear this fierce answer to the King of 

Gods? 
Correct it yet, and change thy rash intent; 
A noble mind disdains not to repent. 
To elder brothers guardian fiends are giv'n, 
To scourge the wretch insulting them and 

Heav'n.' 

* Great is the profit ' (thus the God re- 

join'd), 230 

* When ministers are bless'd with prudent 

mind : 
Warn'd by thy words, to powerful Jove I 

yield, 
And quit, tho' angry, the contended field. 
Not but his threats with justice I disclaim. 
The same our honours, and our birth the 

same. 
If yet, forgetful of his promise giv'n 
To Hermes, Pallas, and the queen of 

Heav'n, 
To favour Ilion, that perfidious place," 
He breaks his faith with half th' ethereal 

race; 239 

Give him to know, unless the Grecian train 
Lay yon proud structures level with the 

plain, 
Howe'er th' offence by other Gods be 

pass'd. 
The wrath of Neptune shall for ever last.' 
Thus speaking, furious from the field he 

strode. 
And plunged into the bosom of the flood. 
The Lord of Thunders from his lofty 

height 
Beheld, and thus bespoke the source of 

light: 
' Behold ! the God whose liquid arms are 

hurl'd 
Around the globe, whose earthquakes rock 

the world. 
Desists at length his rebel-war to wage, 250 
Seeks his own seas, and trembles at our 

rage: 



Else had my wrath, Heav'n's thrones all 

shaking round, 
Burn'd to the bottom of his seas profound; 
And all the Gods that round old Saturn 

dwell. 
Had heard the thunders to the deeps of 

Hell. 
Well was the crime, and well the ven- 
geance spared, 
Ev'n power immense had found such battle 

hard. 
Go thou, my son! the trembling Greeks 

alarm. 
Shake my broad segis on thy active arm: 
Be godlike Hector thy peculiar care, 260 
Swell his bold heart, and urge his strength 

to war: 
Let Ilion conquer, till the Achaian train 
Fly to their ships and Hellespont again: 
Then Greece shall breathe from toils.' The 

Godhead said; 
His will divine the Son of Jove obey'd. 
Not half so swift the sailing falcon flies. 
That drives a turtle thro' the liquid skies; 
As Phcebus, shooting from th' Idsean brow, 
Glides down the mountain to the plain 

below. 
There Hector seated by the stream he 

sees, 270 

His sense returning with the coming breeze ; 
Again his pulses beat, his spirits rise; 
Again his lov'd companions meet his eyes; 
Jove thinking of his pains, they pass'd 

away. 
To whom the God who gives the golden day : 
* Why sits great Hector from the field 

so far. 
What grief, what wound, withholds him 

from the war ? ' 
The fainting hero, as the vision bright 
Stood shining o'er him, half unseal'd his 

sight : 
' What bless'd immortal, with commanding 

breath, 280 

Thus wakens Hector from the sleep of 

death ? 
Has fame not told, how, while my trusty 

sword 
Bathed Greece in slaughter, and her battle 

gored, 
The mighty Ajax with a deadly blow 
Had almost sunk me to the shades below ? 
Ev'n yet, methinks, the gliding ghosts 1 spy, 
And Hell's black horrors swim before my 

eye.' 



THE ILIAD 



425 



To him Apollo: * Be no more dismay'd; 
See, and be strong ! the Thund'rer sends 

thee aid: 
Behold ! thy Phoebus shall his arms em- 
ploy, _ 290 
Phoebus, propitious still to thee and Troy. 
Inspire thy warriors then with manly 

force, 
And to the ships impel thy rapid horse: 
Ev'n I will make thy fiery coursers' way. 
And drive the Grecians headlong to the 

sea.' 
Thus to bold Hector spoke the Son of 

Jove, 
And breathed immortal ardour from above. 
As when the pamper'd steed, with reins 

unbound. 
Breaks from his stall, and pours along the 

ground ; 
With ample strokes he rushes to the 

flood, 300 

To bathe his sides and cool his fiery blood: 
His head, now freed, he tosses to the skies: 
His mane dishevell'd o'er his shoulders 

flies: 
He snuffs the females in the well-known 

plain, 
And springs, exulting, to his fields again: 
Urged by the voice divine, thus Hector 

flew. 
Full of the God; and all his hosts pursue. 
As when the force of men and dogs com- 

bin'd 
Invade the mountain - goat or branching 

hind ; 
Far from the hunter's rage secure they 

lie 310 

Close in the rock (not fated yet to die); 
When lo ! a lion shoots across the way ! 
They fly: at once the chasers and the prey: 
So Greece, that late in conquering troops 

pursued, 
And mark'd their progress thro' the ranks 

in blood. 
Soon as they see the furious Chief appear. 
Forget to vanquish, and consent to fear. 
Thoas with grief observ'd his dreadful 

course, 
Thoas, the bravest of th' iEtolian force; 319 
Skill'd to direct the jav'lin's distant flight, 
And bold to combat in the standing fight; 
Nor more in counsels famed for solid 

sense, 
Than winning words and heav'nly elo- 
quence. ' 



' Gods ! what portent ' (he cried) ' these 
eyes invades ? 

Lo, Hector rises from the Stygian shades ! 

We saw him, late, by Thund'ring Ajax 
kill'd; 

What God restores him to the frighted 
field; 

And not content that half of Greece lie 
slain. 

Pours new destruction on her sons again ? 

He comes not, Jove ! without thy powerful 
will; 330 

Lo ! still he lives, pursues, and conquers 
still ! 

Yet hear my counsel, and his worst with- 
stand ; 

The Greek's main body to the fleet com- 
mand: 

But let the few whom brisker spirits warm, 

Stand the first onset, and provoke the 
storm : 

Thus point your arms; and when such foes 
appear. 

Fierce as he is, let Hector learn to fear.' 
The warrior spoke, the list'ning Greeks 
obey, 

Thick'ning their ranks, and form a deep 
array. 

Each Ajax, Teucer, Merion gave com- 
mand, 340 

The valiant leader of the Cretan band. 

And Mars-like Meges: these the Chiefs 
excite. 

Approach the foe, and meet the coming 
fight. 

Behind, unnuraber'd multitudes attend 

To flank the navy, and the shores defend. 

Full on the front the pressing Trojans 
bear. 

And Hector first came tow'ring to the war. 

Phoebus himself the rushing battle led; 

A veil of clouds involv'd his radiant head: 

High-held before him, Jove's enormous 
shield 350 

Portentous shone, and shaded all the field: 

Vulcan to Jove th' immortal gift con- 
sign'd, 

To scatter hosts, and terrify mankind. 

The Greeks expect the shock; the clam- 
ours rise 

From diff'rent parts, and mingle in the 
skies. 

Dire was the hiss of darts, by heroes flung. 

And arrows leaping from the bow-string 
suno-; 



426 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



These drink the life of geu'rous warriors 

slain; 
Those guiltless fall, and thirst for blood in 

vain. 
As long as Phoebus bore unmov'd the 

shield, 360 

Sat doubtful Conquest hov'ring on the field; 
But when aloft he shakes it in the skies, 
Shouts in their ears, and lightens in their 

eyes, 
Deep horror seizes ev'ry Grecian breast. 
Their force is humbled, and their fear con- 

fess'd. 
So flies a herd of oxen, scatter'd wide. 
No swain to guard them, and no day to 

guide, 
When two fell lions from the mountain 

come. 
And spread the carnage thro' the shady 

gloom. 
Impending Phoebus pours around them 

fear, 370 

And Troy and Hector thunder in the rear. 
Heaps fall on heaps: the slaughter Hector 

leads; 
First, great Arcesilas, then Stichius bleeds; 
One to the bold Boeotians ever dear. 
And one Menestheus' friend, and famed 

compeer. 
Medon and lasus, JEneas sped; 
This sprung from Phelus, and th' Athe- 
nians led; 
But hapless Medon from Oileus came; 
Him Ajax honour'd with a brother's name, 
Tho' born of lawless love: from home ex- 

pell'd, 380 

A banish'd man, in Phylace he dwell'd, 
Press'd by the vengeance of an angry w if e ; 
Troy ends, at last, his labours and his life. 
Mecystes next, Polydamas o'erthrew; 
And thee, brave Clonius ! great Agenor 

slew. 
By Paris, Deiochus inglorious dies, 
Pierc'd thro' the shoulder as he basely 

flies. 
Polites' arm laid Echius on the plain; 
Stretch'd on one heap, the victors spoil the 

slain. 
The Greeks dismay'd, confused, disperse 

or fall, 390 

Some seek the trench, some skulk behind 

the wall; 
While these fly trembling, others pant for 

breath. 
And o'er the slaughter stalks gigantic death. 



On rush'd bold Hector, gloomy as the 

night. 
Forbids to plunder, animates the fight. 
Points to the fleet: * For, by the Gods, who 

flies, 
Who dares but linger, by this hand he 

dies; 
No weeping sister his cold eye shall close, 
No friendly hand his funeral pyre compose. 
Who stops to plunder at this signal 

hour, 400 

The birds shall tear him, and the dogfs de- 

vour. 
Furious he said; the smarting scourge 

resounds; 
The coursers fly; the smoking chariot 

bounds; 
The hosts rush on; loud clamours shake 

the shore; 
The horses thunder, earth and ocean roar ! 
Apollo, planted at the trench's bound, 
Push'd at the bank; down sunk th' enor- 
mous mound: 
RoU'd in the ditch the heapy ruin lay; 
A sudden road ! a long and ample way. 
O'er the dread fosse (a late impervious 

space) 410 

Now steeds, and men, and cars tumultuous 

pass. 
The wond'ring crowds the downward level 

trod; 
Before them flamed the shield, and march'd 

the God. 
Then with bis hand he shook the mighty 

wall; 
And lo ! the turrets nod, the bulwarks fall. 
Easy, as when ashore an infant stands, 
And draws imagin'd houses in the sands ; 
The sportive wanton, pleas'd with some 

new play, 
Sweeps the slight works and fashion'd 

domes away. 
Thus vanish'd, at thy touch, the towers 

and walls; 420 

The toil of thousands in a moment falls. 
The Grecians gaze around with wild de- 
spair. 
Confused, and weary all the powers with 

prayer; 
Exhort their men, with praises, threats, 

commands; 
And urge the Gods, with voices, eyes, and 

hands. 
Experienc'd Nestor chief obtests the skies, 
And weeps his country with a father's eyes: 



THE ILIAD 



427 



' O Jove ! if ever, on liis native shore, 
One Greek enrich'd thy shrine with offer'd 

gore; 
If e'er in hope our country to hehold, 430 
We paid the fatted firstlings of the fold; 
If e'er thou sigu'st our wishes with thy 

nod; 
Perform the promise of a gracious God ! 
This day preserve our navies from the 

flame. 
And save the reliques of the Grecian name.' 
Thus pray'd the sage: th' Eternal gave 

consent, 
And peals of Thunder shook the firmament. 
Presumptuous Troy mistook th' accepting 

sign. 
And catch'd new fury at the voice divine. 
As, when black tempests mix the seas and 

skies, 440 

The roaring deeps in wat'ry mountains 

rise, 
Above the sides of some tall ship ascend. 
Its womb they deluge, and its ribs they 

rend : 
Thus loudly roaring, and o'erpowering all. 
Mount the thick Trojans up the Grecian 

wall; 
Legions on legions from each side arise: 
Thick sound the keels; the storm of arrows 

flies: 
Fierce on the ships above, the cars below, 
These wield the mace, and those the jav'lin 

throw. 
While thus the thunder of the battle 

raged, 450 

And lab'ring armies round the works en- 
gaged; 
Still in the tent Patroclus sat, to tend 
The good Eurypylus, his wounded friend. 
He sprinkles healing balms, to anguish 

kind. 
And adds discourse, the med'cine of the 

mind. 
But when he saw, ascending up the fleet. 
Victorious Troy; then, starting from his 

seat, 
With bitter groans his sorrows he express'd; 
He wrings his hands, he beats his manly 

breast. 
* Tho' yet thy state require redress ' (he 

eries), 460 

'Depart I must: what horrors strike my 

eyes ! 
Charged with Achilles' high commands I go, 
A mournful witness of this scene of woe: 



I haste to urge him, by his country's care, 

To rise in arms, and shine again in war. 

Perhaps some fav'ring God his soul may 
bend: 

The voice is powerful of a faithful friend.' 
He spoke; and, speaking, swifter than 
the wind 

Sprung from the tent, and left the war be- 
hind. 

Th' embodied Greeks the fierce attack sus- 
tain, 470 

But strive, tho' numerous, to repulse in 
vain: 

Nor could the Trojans, thro' that firm ar- 
i"ay, 

Force, to the fleet and tents, th' impervious 
way. 

As when a shipwright, with Palladian art, 

Smooths the rough wood, and levels ev'ry 
part: 

With equal hand he guides his whole de- 
sign. 

By the just rule, and the directing line: 

The martial leaders, with like skill and 
care, 

Preserv'd their line, and equal kept the 
war. 

Brave deeds of arms thro' all the ranks 
were tried, 480 

And ev'ry ship sustain'd an equal tide. 

At one proud bark, high-tow'ring o'er the 
fleet, 

Ajax the great and Godlike Hector meet: 

For one bright prize the matchless Chiefs 
contend, 

Nor this the ships can fire, nor that defend; 

One kept the shore, and one the vessel 
trod; 

That fix'd as fate, this acted by a God. 

The son of Clytius in his daring hand. 

The deck approaching, shakes a flaming 
brand; 

But pierc'd by Telamon's huge lance ex- 
pires; 490 

Thund'ring he falls, and drops th' extin- 
guish'd fires. 

Great Hector view'd him with a sad sur- 
vey, 

As stretch'd in dust before the stern he 
lay. 

' Oh ! all of Trojan, all of Lycian race ! 

Stand to your arms, maintain this arduous 
space. 

Lo ! where the son of royal Clytius lies, 

Ah, save his arms, secure his obsequies 1 ' 



428 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



This said, bis eager jav'lin sought the 

foe: 
But Ajax shunn'd the meditated blow. 
Not vainly yet the forceful lance was 

thrown ; 500 

It stretch 'd in dust unhappy Lycophron: 
An exile long, sustain'd at Ajax' board, 
A faithful servant to a foreign lord ; 
In peace, in war, for ever at his side, 
Near his lov'd master, as he liv'd, he died. 
From the high poop he tumbles on the 

sand. 
And lies, a lifeless load, along the land. 
With anguish Ajax views the piercing 

sight, 
And thus inflames his brother to the fight: 
' Teucer, behold ! extended on the 

shore, 510 

Our friend, our lov'd companion ! now no 

more! 
Dear as a parent, with a parent's care 
To fight our wars, he left his native air. 
This death deplor'd to Hector's rage we 

owe; 
Revenge, revenge it on the cruel foe ! 
Where are those darts on which the fates 

attend ? 
And where the bow which Phcebus taught 

to bend ? ' 
Impatient Teucer, hast'ning to his aid. 
Before the Chief his ample bow display'd; 
The well-stored quiver on his shoulders 

hung: 520 

Then hiss'd his arrow, and the bow-string 

sung. 
Clytns, Pisenor's son, renown'd in fame 
(To thee, Polydamas ! an honour'd name), 
Drove thro' the thickest of th' embattled 

plains 
The startling steeds, and shook his eager 

reins. 
As all on glory ran his ardent mind, 
The pointed death arrests him from be- 
hind: 
Thro' his fair neck the thrilling arrow flies; 
In youth's first bloom reluctantly he dies. 
Hurl'd from the lofty seat, at distance 

far, ^ 530 

The headlong coursers spurn his empty car; 
Till sad Polydamas the steeds restrain'd, 
And gave, Astynous, to thy careful hand; 
Then, fired to vengeance, rush'd amidst the 

foe; 
Rage edg'd his sword, and strengthen'd 

ev'ry blow. 



Once more bold Teucer, in his country's 
cause, 

At Hector's breast a chosen arrow draws: 

And had the weapon found the destin'd 
way. 

Thy fall, great Trojan ! had renown'd that 
day. 

But Hector was not doom'd to perish 
then: 540 

Th' all-wise disposer of the fates of men 

(Imperial Jove) his present death with- 
stands; 

Nor was such glory due to Teucer's hands. 

At his full stretch as the tough string he 
drew. 

Struck by an arm unseen, it burst in two: 

Down dropp'd the bow: the shaft with 
brazen head 

Fell innocent, and on the dust lay dead. 
Th' astonish'd archer to great Ajax cries: 

* Some God prevents our destin'd enter- 
prise: 

Some God propitious to the Trojan foe, 550 

Has, from my arm unfailing, struck the 
bow, 

And broke the nerve my hands had twined 
with art. 

Strong to impel the flight of many a dart.' 
* Since Heav'n commands it ' (Ajax made 
reply), 

' Dismiss the bow, and lay thy arrows by : 

Thy arms no less suffice the lance to wield, 

And quit the quiver for the pond'rous 
shield. 

In the first ranks indulge thy thirst of fame, 

Thy brave example shall the rest inflame. 

Fierce as they are, by long successes 
vain, 560 

To force our fleet, or ev'n a ship to gain, 

Asks toil, and sweat, and blood: their ut- 
most might 

Shall find its match — No more ; 't is ours 
to fight.' 
Then Teucer laid his faithless bow aside: 

The fourfold buckler o'er his shoulder tied; 

On his brave head a crested helm he 
placed. 

With nodding horsehair formidably graced; 

A dart, whose point with brass refulgent 
shines. 

The warrior wields; and his great brother 
joins. 
This Hector saw, and thus express'd his 

joy; ^ 570 

' Ye troops of Lycia, Dardanus, and Troy ! 



THE ILIAD 



429 



Be mindful of yourselves, your ancient 
fame, 

And spread your glory with the navy's 
flame. 

Jove is with us; I saw his hand, but now, 

From the proud archer strike his vaunted 
bow. 

Indulgent Jove ! how plain thy favours 
shine, 

When happy nations bear the marks di- 
vine ! 

How easy then to see the sinking state 

Of realms accurs'd, deserted, reprobate ! 

Such is the fate of Greece, and such is 
ours: 580 

Behold, ye warriors, and exert your powers. 

Death is the worst; a fate which all must 
try; 

And for our country 't is a bliss to die. 

The gallant man, tho' slain in fight he be, 

Yet leaves his nation safe, his children free; 

Entails a debt on all the grateful state; 

His own brave friends shall glory in his fate; 

His wife live honour'd, all his race succeed, 

And late posterity enjoy the deed ! ' 

This rous'd the soul in ev'ry Trojan 
breast. 590 

The godlike Ajax next his Greeks ad- 
dress'd : 

* How long, ye warriors of the Argive race, 

(To gen'rous Argos what a dire disgrace !) 

How long on these curs'd confines will ye 
lie. 

Yet undetermin'd, or to live, or die ? 

What hopes remain, what methods to re- 
tire, 

If once your vessels catch the Trojan fire ? 

Mark how the flames approach, how near 
they fall, 

How Hector calls, and Troy obeys his 
call ! 

Not to the dance that dreadful voice in- 
vites; 600 

It calls to death, and all the rage of 
fights. 

'Tis now no time for wisdom or debates; 

To your own hands are trusted all your 
fates: 

And better far, in one decisive strife, 

One day should end our labour, or our 
life, 

Than keep this hard-got inch of barren 
sands, 

Still press'd, and press'd by such inglori- 
ous hands.' 



The list'ning Grecians feel their leader's 

flame, 
And ev'ry kindling bosom pants for fame. 
Then mutual slaughters spread on either 

side; 610 

By Hector here the Phocian Schedius 

died; 
There, pierc'd by Ajax, sank Laodamas, 
Chief of the foot, of old Antenor's race. 
Polydamas laid Otus on the sand. 
The fierce commander of th' Epeian band. 
His lance bold Meges at the victor threw; 
The victor stooping, from the death with- 
drew 
(That valued life, O Phoebus ! was thy 

care), 
But Crcesmus' bosom took the flying spear: 
His corpse fell bleeding on the slipp'ry 

shore : 620 

His radiant arms triumphant Meges bore. 
Dolops, the son of Lampus, rushes on, 
Sprung from the race of old Laomedon, 
And famed for prowess in a well-fought 

field; 
He pierc'd the centre of his sounding 

shield: 
But Meges Phyleus' ample breast-plate 

wore 
(Well known in fight on Selles' winding 

shore: 
For King Euphetes gave the golden mail. 
Compact, and firm with many a jointed 

scale), 
Which oft, in cities storm'd, and battles 

won, 530 

Had saved the father, and now saves the 

son. 
Full at the Trojan's head he urged his 

lance, 
Where the high plumes above the helmet 

dance. 
New-tinged with Tyrian dye: in dust be- 
low. 
Shorn from the crest, the purple honours 

glow; 
Meantime their fight the Spartan King 

survey'd, 
And stood by Meges' side, a sudden aid, 
Thro' Dolops' shoulder urged his forceful 

dart, 
Which held its passage thro' the panting 

heart. 
And issued at his breast. With thund'ring 

sound 640 

The warrior falls extended on the ground. 



430 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



In rush the conquering Greeks to spoil the 
slain; 

But Hector's voice excites his kindred 
train; 

The hero most from Hicetaon sprung, 

Fierce Melanippus, gallant, brave, and 
young. 

He (e'er to Troy the Grecians cross'd the 
main) 

Fed his large oxen on Percote's plain; 

But when oppress' d, his country claim'd 
his care, 

Return 'd to Ilion, and excell'd in war: 649 

For this in Priam's court he held his place, 

Belov'd no less than Priam's royal race. 

Him Hector singled, as his troops he led, 

And thus inflamed him, pointing to the dead: 
' Lo, Melanippus ! lo where Dolops lies; 

And is it thus our royal kinsman dies ? 

O'erraatch'd he falls; to two at once a prey. 

And lo, they bear the bloody arms away ! 

Come on — a distant war no longer wage, 

But hand to hand thy country's foes en- 
gage: " 659 

Till Greece at once, and all her glory, end; 

Or Ilion from her tow'ry height descend, 

Heav'd from the lowest stone; and bury all 

In one sad sepulchre, one common fall.' 
Hector (this said) rush'd forward on the 
foes: 

With equal ardour Melanippus glows: 

Then Ajax thus: ' O Greeks ! respect your 
fame. 

Respect yourselves, and learn an honest 
shame: 

Let mutual rev'renee mutual warmth in- 
spire. 

And catch from breast to breast the noble 
fire. 

On valour's side the odds of combat lie, 670 

The brave live glorious, or lamented die; 

The wretch that trembles in the Field of 
Fame, 

Meets death, and worse than death, eternal 
shame.' 
His gen'rous sense he not in vain im- 
parts ; 

It sunk, and rooted in the Grecian hearts. 

They join, they throng, they thicken at his 
call. 

And flank the nav}- with a brazen wall; 

Shields touching shields, in order blaze 
above, 

And stop the Trojans, tho' impell'd by 
Jove. 679 



The fiery Spartan first, with loud applause, 

Warms the bold son of Nestor in his cause. 

' Is there ' (he said) ' in arms a youth like 
you, 

So strong to fight, so active to pursue ? 

Why stand you distant, nor attempt a 
deed ? 

Lift the bold lance, and make some Trojan 
bleed.' 
He said, and backwards to the lines re- 
tired; 

Forth rush'd the youth, with martial fury 
fired. 

Beyond the foremost ranks; his lance he 
threw 

And round the black battalions cast his 
view. 

The troops of Troy recede wutli sudden 
fear, 690 

While the swift jav'lin hiss'd along in air. 

Advancing Melanippus met the dart 

With his bold breast, and felt it in his 
heart: 

Thund'ring he falls; his falling arms re- 
sound, 

And his broad buckler rings against the 
ground. 

The victor leaps upon his prostrate prize; 

Thus on a roe the well-breathed beagle flies. 

And rends liis side, fresh-bleeding with the 
dart 

The distant hunter sent into his heart. 

Observing Hector to the rescue flew; 700 

Bold as he was, Antilochus withdrew: 

So when a savage, ranging o'er the plain, 

Has torn the shepherd's dog, or shepherd 
swain; 

While, conscious of the deed, he glares 
around, 

And hears the gath'ring multitude resound, 

Timely he flies the yet untasted food. 

And gains the friendly shelter of the wood. 

So fears the youth; all Troy with shouts 
pursue, 

While stones and darts in mingled tem- 
pests flew; 

But, enter'd in the Grecian ranks, he 
turns 710 

His manly breast, and with new fury burns. 
Now on the fleet the tides of Trojans 
drove, 

Fierce to fulfil the stern decrees of »Tove: 

The Sire of Gods, confirming Thetis' prayer, 

The Grecian ardour qucnch'd in deep de- 
spair; 



THE ILIAD 



431 



But lifts to glory Troy's prevailing bands, 
Swells all their hearts, and strengthens all 

their hands. 
On Ida's top he waits with longing eyes, 
To view the navy blazing to the skies; 
Then, nor till then, the scale of war shall 
turn, 720 

The Trojans fly, and conquer'd Ilion burn. 
These fates revolv'd in his almighty mind, 
He raises Hector to the work design'd. 
Bids him with more tlian mortal fury glow. 
And drives him, like a lightning, on the foe. 
So Mars, when human crimes for vengeance 

call, 
Shakes his huge jav'lin, and whole armies 

fall. 
Not with more rage a conflagration rolls, 
Wraps the vast mountains, and involves the 

poles. 
He foams with wrath; beneath his gloomy 
brow 730 

Like fiery meteors his redeye-balls glow: 
The radiant helmet on his temple burns. 
Waves when he nods, and lightens as he 

turns: 
For Jove his splendour round the Chief 

had thrown. 
And cast the blaze of both the hosts on one. 
Unhappy glories ! for his fate was near. 
Due to stern Pallas, and Pelides' spear: 
Yet Jove deferr'd the death he was to 

pay, 
And gave what Fate allow'd, the honours 
of a day ! 
Now all on fire for fame, his breast, his 
eyes ^ ^ 740 

Burn at each foe, and single ev'ry prize; 
Still at the closest ranks, the thickest fight. 
He points his ardour, and exerts his might. 
The Grecian phalanx, moveless as a tower, 
On all sides batter'd, yet resists his power: 
So some tall rock o'erhangs the hoary 

main. 
By winds assail'd, by billows beat in vain; 
Unmov'd it hears, above, the tempest blow. 
And sees the wat'ry mountains break be- 
low. 
Girt in surrounding flames, he seems to 
tail 750 

Like fire from Jove, and bursts upon them 

all; 
Bursts as a wave that from the clouds im- 
pends, 
And swell'd with tempests on the ship de- 
scends; 



White are the decks with foam; the winds 

aloud 
Howl o'er the masts, and sing thro' ev'ry 

shroud: 
Pale, trembling, tired, the sailors freeze 

with fears; 
And instant death on ev'ry wave appears. 
So pale the Greeks the eyes of Hector 

meet. 
The Chief so thunders, and so shakes the 

fleet. 
As when a lion rushing from his den, 760 
Amidst the plain of some wide-water'd fen 
(Where numerous oxen, as at ease they 

feed. 
At large expatiate o'er the ranker mead) , 
Leaps on the herds before the herdsman's 

eyes: 
The trembling herdsman far to distance 

flies: 
Some lordly bull (the rest dispers'd and fled) 
He singles out; arrests, and lays him dead. 
Thus from the rage of Jove-like Hector 

flew 
All Greece in heaps; but one he seiz'd, and 

slew. 
Mycenean Periphes, a mighty name, 770 
In wisdom great, in arms well-known to 

fame : 
The minister of stern Eurystheus' ire. 
Against Alcides; Copreus was his sire: 
The son redeem'd the honours of the race, 
A son as gen'rous as the sire was base; 
O'er all his country's youth conspicuous far 
In ev'ry virtue, or of peace or war: 
But doom'd to Hector's stronger force to 

yield ! 
Against the margin of his ample shield 
He struck his hasty foot: his heels up- 
sprung; ^ 780 
Supine he fell, his brazen helmet rung. 
On the fall'n Chief th' invading Trojan 

press'd. 
And plunged the pointed jav'lin in his 

breast. 
His circling friends, who strove to guard 

too late 
Th' unhappy hero, fled, or shared his fate. 
Chased from the foremost line, the Gre- 
cian train 
Now man the next, receding toward the 

main: 
Wedg'd in one body at the tents they stand, 
Wall'd round with sterns, a gloomy, des- 

p'rate band. 



432 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Now manly shame forbids th' inglorious 

flight; 790 

Now fear itself confines them to the fight: 
Man courage breathes in man; but Nestor 

most 
(The sage preserver of the Grecian host) 
Exhorts, adjures, to guard these utmost 

shores; 
And by their parents, by themselves, im- 
plores: 
* O friends ! be men : your gen'rous 

breasts inflame 
With mutual honour, and with mutual 

shame ! 
Think of your hopes, your fortunes; all the 

care 
Your wives, your infants, and your parents, 

share : 799 

Think of each living father's rev'rend head; 
Think of each ancestor with glory dead ; 
Absent, by me they speak, by n)e they sue; 
They ask their safety and their fame from 

you: 
The Gods their fates on this one action lay. 
And all are lost if you desert the day.' 
He spoke, and round him breathed heroic 

fires; 
Minerva seconds what the sage inspires. 
The mist of darkness Jove around them 

threw, 
She clear'd, restoring all the war to view: 
A sudden ray shot beaming o'er the plain. 
And shew'd the shores, the navy, and the 

main. 811 

Hector they saw, and all who fly or fight, 
The scene wide opening to the blaze of light. 
First of the field, great Ajax strikes their 

eyes. 
His port majestic, and his ample size: 
A pond'rous mace, with studs of iron 

crown 'd, 
Full twenty cubits long, he swings around. 
Nor fights like others fix'd to certain stands, 
But looks a moving tower above the bands; 
High on the decks, with vast gigantic 

stride, 820 

The godlike hero stalks from side to side. 
So when a horseman from the wat'ry mead 
(Skill'd in the manage of the bounding 

steed) 
Drives four fair coursers, practis'd to obey. 
To some great city thro' the public way; 
Safe in his art, as side by side they run, 
He shifts his seat, and vaults from one to 

one: 



And now to this, and now to that he 

flies; 
Admiring numbers follow with their eyes. 
From sliip to ship thus Ajax swiftly flew, 
No less the wonder of the warring crew. 
As furious. Hector thunder'd threats 

aloud, 832 

And rush'd enraged before the Trojan 

crowd; 
Then swift invades the ships, whose beaky 

prores 
Lay rank'd contiguous on the bending 

shores. 
So the strong eagle from his airy height, 
Who marks the swans' or cranes' embodied 

flight, 
Stoops down impetuous, while they light 

for food. 
And stooping darkens with his wings the 

flood. 839 

Jove leads him on with his almighty hand. 
And breathes fierce spirits in his foll'wing 

band. 
The warring nations meet, the battle roars, 
Thick beats the combat on the sounding 

prores. 
Thou would'st have thought, so furious was 

their fire. 
No force could tame them, and no toil 

could tire; 
As if new vigour from new fights they won. 
And the long battle was but then begun. 
Greece, yet unconquer'd, kept alive the 

war. 
Secure of death, confiding in despair; 
Troy in proud hopes already view'd the 

main 850 

Bright with the blaze, and red with heroes 

slain: 
Like strength is felt from hope, and from 

despair, 
And each contends, as his were all the war. 
'T was thou, bold Hector! whose resist- 
less hand 
First seiz'd a ship on that contested strand ; 
The same wiiich dead Protesilaiis bore, 
The first that touch'd th' unhappy Trojan 

shore. 
For this in arms the warring notions stood, 
And bathed their gen'rous breasts with 

mutual blood. 
No room to poise the lance, or bend the 

bow; 860 

But hand to hand, and man to man they 

grow: 



THE ILIAD 



433 



Wounded, they wound; and seek eaeh 

other's hearts 
With falchions, axes, swords, and short- 

en'd darts. 
The falchions ring, shields rattle, axes 

sound, 
Swords flash in air, or glitter on the ground : 
With streaming blood the slipp'ry shores 

are dyed. 
And slaughter'd heroes swell the dreadful 

tide. 
Still raging Hector with his ample hand 
Grasps the high stern, and gives his loud 

command: 
* Haste, bring the flames! the toil of ten 

long years 870 

Is finish'd; and the day desired appears! 
This happy day with acclamations greet, 
Bright with destruction of yon hostile fleet. 
The coward counsels of a tim'rous throng 
Of rev'rend dotards, check'd our glory 

long: 
Too long Jove lull'd us with lethargic 

charms, 
But now in peals of thunder calls to arms; 
In this great day he crowns our full de- 
sires. 
Wakes all our force, and seconds all our 

fires.' 
He spoke. The warriors, at his fierce 

command, 880 

Pour a new deluge on the Grecian band. 
Ev'n A jax paus'd (so thick the jav'lins fly), 
Stepp'd back, and doubted or to live, or 

die. 
Yet where the oars are placed, he stands to 

wait 
What Chief approaching dares attempt his 

fate: 
Ev'n to the last his naval charge defends, 
Now shakes his spear, now lifts, and now 

protends; 
Ev'n yet, the Greeks with piercing shouts 

inspires. 
Amidst attacks, and deaths, and darts, and 

fires: 
*0 friends! O heroes! names for ever 

dear, 890 

Once sons of Mars, and thunderbolts of war! 
Ah! yet be mindful of your old renown, 
Your great forefathers' virtues and your 

own. 
What aids expect you in this utmost strait ? 
What bulwarks rising between you and 

fate ? 



No aids, no bulwarks, your retreat attend, 
No friends to help, no city to defend. 
Tliis spot is all you have, to lose or keep; 
There stand the Trojans, and here rolls 

the deep. 
'T is hostile ground you tread; your native 

lands goo 

Far, far from hence: your fates are in your 

hands.' 
Raging he spoke; nor farther wastes his 

breath, 
But turns his jav'lin to the work of death. 
Whate'er bold Trojan arm'd his daring 

bands 
Against the sable ships with flaming 

brands, 
So well the Chief his naval weapon sped, 
The luckless warrior at his stern lay dead: 
Full twelve, the boldest, in a moment fell, 
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell. 



BOOK XVI 

THE SIXTH BATTLE : THE ACTS AND DEATH 
OF PATROCLUS 

THE ARGUMENT 

Patroclus (in pursuance of the request of Nes- 
tor in the eleventh book) entreats Achilles 
to suffer him to g-o to the assistance of the 
Greeks with Achilles' troops and armour. 
He agrees to it, but at the same time charg-es 
him to content himself with rescuing- the 
fleet, without farther pursuit of the enemy. 
The armour, horses, soldiers, and officers of 
Achilles are described. Achilles offers a 
libation for the success of his friend, after 
which Patroclus leads the Myrmidons to bat- 
tle. The Trojans, at the sight of Patroclus 
in Achilles' armour, taking- him for that 
hero, are cast into the utmost consternation : 
he beats them off from the vessels, Hector 
himself flies, Sarpedon is killed, thoug-h Ju- 
piter was averse to his fate. Several other 
particulars of the battle are described ; in 
the heat of which, Patroclus, neg-lecting- the 
orders of Achilles, pursues the foe to the 
walls of Troy ; where Apollo repulses and 
disarms him. Euphorbus wounds him, and 
Hector kills him : which concludes the book. 

So warr'd both armies on th' ensanguin'd 
shore, 

While the black vessels smoked with hu- 
man gore. 

Meantime Patroclus to Achilles flies; 



434 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The streaming tears fall copious from his 

eyes; 
Not faster, trickling to the plains below, 
From the tall rock the sable waters flow. 
Divine Pelides, with compassion mov'd, 
Thus spoke, indulgent to his best belov'd: 
* Patroclus, say, what grief thy bosom 
bears, 9 

That flows so fast in these unmanly tears ? 
No girl, no infant whom the mother keeps 
From her lov'd breast, with fonder passion 

weeps ; 
Not more the mother's soul that infant 

warms, 
Clung to her knees, and reaching at her 

arms. 
Than thou hast mine! Oh tell me to what 

end 
Thy melting sorrows thus pursue thy 

friend ? 
*Griev'st thou for me, or for my martial 

band? 
Or come sad tidings from our native land ? 
Our fathers live (our first, most tender 

care,) 19 

Thy good Mencetius breathes the vital 

air. 
And hoary Peleus yet extends his days; 
Pleas'd in their age to hear their children's 

praise. 
*0r may some meaner cause thy pity 

claim ? 
Perhaps yon relics of the Grecian name, 
Doom'd in their ships to sink by fire and 

sword. 
And pay the forfeit of their haughty lord ? 
Whate'er the cause, reveal thy secret 

care, 
And speak those sorrows which a friend 

would share.' 
A sigh, that instant, from his bosom 

broke, 
Another follow'd, and Patroclus spoke: 30 
' Let Greece at length with pity touch 

thy breast. 
Thyself a Greek; and, once, of Greeks the 

best! 
Lo! ev'ry Chief that might her fate pre- 
vent. 
Lies pierc'd with wounds, and bleeding in 

his tent: 
Eurypylus, Tydides, Atreus' son, 
And wise Ulysses, at the navy groan, 
More for their country's wounds, than for 

their own. 



Their pain soft arts of pharmacy can ease; 
Thy breast alone no lenitives appease. 

* May never rage like thine my soul en- 

slave, 40 

O great in vain! nnprofitably brave! 
Thy country slighted in her last distress. 
What friend, what man, from thee shall 

hope redress ? 
No: men unborn, and ages yet behind, 
Shall curse that fierce, that unforgiving 

mind. 
*0 man unpitying! if of man thy race; 
But sure thou spring'st not from a soft 

embrace. 
Nor ever am'rous hero caus'd thy birth. 
Nor ever tender Goddess brought thee 

forth. 
Some rugged rock's hard entrails gave thee 

form, 50 

And raging seas produced thee in a storm; 
A soul well suiting that tempestuous kind. 
So rough thy manners, so untamed thy 

mind. 

* If some dire oracle thy breast alarm. 

If aught from Jove, or Thetis, stop thy 

arm. 
Some beam of comfort yet on Greece may 

shine. 
If I but lead the Myrmidonian line: 
Clad in thy dreadful arms if I appear. 
Proud Troy shall tremble and desert the 

war: 
Without thy person Greece shall win the 

day, 60 

And thy mere image chase her foes away. 
Press'd by fresh forces, her o'erlabour'd 

train 
Shall quit the ships, and Greece respire 

again.' 
Thus, blind to fate ! with supplicating 

breath. 
Thou begg'st his arms, and in his arms thy 

death. 
Unfortunately good ! a boding sigh 
Thy friend return'd; and with it, this re- 
ply: 
' Patroclus ! thy Achilles knows no fears; 

Nor words from Jove, nor oracles, he 
hears ; 

Nor aught a mother's caution can sug- 
gest; _ ^ ^ 70 

The tyrant's pride lies rooted in my breast. 

My wrongs, my wrongs, my constant 
thought engage. 

Those, my sole oracles, inspire my rage: 



THE ILIAD 



435 



I made him tyrant; gave him power to 

wrong 
Ev'n me: I felt it; and shall feel it long. 
The maid, my black-eyed maid, he forc'd 

away. 
Due to the toils of many a well-fought day; 
Due to my conquest of her father's reign; 
Due to the votes of all the Grecian train. 
From me he forc'd her, me the bold and 

brave ; 80 

Disgraced, dishonour'd, like the meanest 

slave. 
But bear we this The wrongs I grieve 

are past; 
'Tis time our fury should relent at last: 
Ifix'd its date; the day I wish'd appears;' 
Now Hector to my ships his battle bears, 
The flames my eyes, the shouts invade 

my ears. 
Go, then, Patroclus ! court fair honour's 

charms 
In Troy's famed fields, and in Achilles' 

arms: 
Lead forth my martial Myrmidons to 

fight. 
Go, save the fleets, and conquer in my 

right. 90 

See the thin relics of their baffled band. 
At the last edge of yon deserted land ! 
Behold all Ilion on their ships descends; 
How the cloud blackens, how the storm 

impends ! 
It was not thus, when, at my sight amazed, 
Troy saw and trembled as this helmet 

blazed: 
Had not th' injurious king our friendship 

lost. 
Yon ample trench had buried half her 

host. 
No camps, no bulwarks, now the Trojans 

fear. 
Those are not dreadful, no Achilles 

there : mo 

No longer flames the lance of Tydeus' son ; 
No more your Gcn'ral calls his heroes on: 
Hector alone I hear; his dreadful breath 
Commands your slaughter, or proclaims 

your death. 
Yet now, Patroclus, issue to the plain; 
Now save the ships, the rising fires re- 
strain. 
And give the Greeks to visit Greece again. 
But heed my words, and mark a friend's 

command. 
Who trusts his fame and honours in thy hand, 



And from thy deeds expects th' Achaian 

host no 

Shall render back the beauteous maid he 

lost: 
Rage uncontroll'd thro' all the hostile crew, 
But touch not Hector, Hector is my due. 
Tho' Jove in thunder should command the 

war, 
Be just, consult my glory, and forbear. 
The fleet once saved, desist from farther 

chase. 
Nor lead to Ilion's walls the Grecian race ; 
Some adverse God thy rashness may de- 
stroy; 
Some God, like Phcebus, ever kind to 

Troy. 
Let Greece, redeem'd from this destructive 

strait, 120 

Do her own work, and leave the rest to 

fate. 
Oh ! would to all th' immortal powers above, 
Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove ! 
That not one Trojan might be left alive. 
And not a Greek of all the race survive; 
Might only we the vast destruction shun, 
And only we destroy th' accursed town ! ' 
Such conf'rence held the Chiefs: while, 

on the strand. 
Great Jove with conquest crown'd the Tro- 
jan band. 
Ajax no more the sounding storm sus- 

tain'd, 130 

So thick the darts an iron tempest rain'd: 
On his tired arm the weighty buckler hung; 
His hollow helm with falling jav'lins rung: 
His breath, in quick short pautings, comes 

and goes; 
And painful sweat from all his members 

flows. 
Spent and o'erpower'd, he barely breathes 

at most; 
Yet scarce an army stirs him from his 

post: 
Dangers on dangers all around him grow, 
And toil to toil, and woe succeeds to woe. 
Say, Muses, throned above the starry 

frame, 140 

How first the navy blazed with Trojan 

flame? 
Stern Hector waved his sword, and, 

standing near 
Where furious Ajax plied his ashen spear. 
Full on the lance a stroke so justly sped. 
That the broad falchion lopp'd its brazen 

head: 



43^ 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



His pointless spear the warrior shakes in 

vain ; 
The brazen head falls sounding on the plain. 
Great Ajax saw, and own'd the hand divine, 
Confessing Jove, and trembling at the sign; 
Warn'd he retreats. Then swift from all 

sides pour 150 

The hissing brands; thick streams the fiery 

shower; 
O'er the high stern the curling volumes 

rise, 
And sheets of rolling smoke involve the 

skies. 
Divine Achilles view'd the rising flames, 
And smote his thigh, and thus aloud ex- 
claims: 
' Arm, arm, Patroclus ! lo, the blaze aspires ! 
The glowing ocean reddens with the fires. 
Arm, ere our vessels catch the spreading 

flame; 
Arm, ere the Grecians be no more a name; 
I haste to bring the troops.' The Hero 

said; 160 

The friend with ardour and with joy 

obey'd. 
He cased his limbs in brass; and first 

around 
His manly legs with silver buckles bound 
The clasping greaves: then to his breast 

applies 
The flamy cuirass, of a thousand dyes; 
Emblazed with studs of gold, his falchion 

shone 
In the rich belt, as in a starry zone. 
Achilles' shield his ample shoulders spread, 
Achilles' helmet nodded o'er his head. 
Adorn'd in all his terrible array, 170 

He flash 'd around intolerable day. 
Alone, untouch'd, Pelides' jav'lin stands, 
Not to be pois'd but by Pelides' hands : 
From Pelion's shady brow the plant entire 
Old Chiron rent, and shaped it for his sire; 
Whose son's great arm alone the weapon 

wields. 
The death of heroes, and the dread of 

fields. 
Then brave Automedon (an honour'd 

name, 
The second to his lord in love and fame. 
In peace his friend, and partner of the 

war) 180 

The winged coursers harness'd to the car. 
Xanthus and Balius, of immortal breed, 
Sprung from the wind, and like the wind 

in speed; 



Whom the wing'd harpy, swift Podarge, 

bore. 
By Zephyr pregnant on the breezy shore. 
Swift Pedasus was added to their side 
(Once great Eetion's, now Achilles' pride), 
Who, like in strength, in swiftness, and in 

grace, 
A mortal courser, match'd th' immortal 

race. 
Achilles speeds from tent to tent, and 

warms 190 

His hardy Myrmidons to blood and arms. 
All breathing death, around their Chief 

they stand, 
A grim, terrific, formidable band; 
Grim as voracious wolves that seek the 

springs. 
When scalding thirst their burning bowels 

wrings 
(When some tall stag, fresh slaughter'd in 

the wood, 
Has drench 'd their wide insatiate throats 

with blood); 
To the black fount they rush, a hideous 

throng. 
With paunch distended and with lolling 

tongue; 
Fire fills their eyes, their black jaws belch 

the gore, 200 

And, gorged with slaughter, still they thirst 

for more. 
Like furious rush'd the Myrmidonian crew, 
Such their dread strength, and such their 

dreadful view. 
High in the midst the great Achilles 

stands. 
Directs their order, and the war com- 
mands. 
He, lov'd of Jove, had launch'd for Ilion's 

shores 
Full fifty vessels, mann'd with fifty oars: 
Five chosen leaders the fierce bands obey. 
Himself supreme in valour, as in sway. 
First march'd Menestheus, of celestial 

birth, 2IO 

Derived from thee, whose waters wash the 

earth. 
Divine Sperchius ! Jove-descended flood ! 
A mortal mother mixing with a God. 
Such was Menestheus, but miscall'd by 

Fame 
The son of Borus, that espous'd the dame. 
Eudorus next; whom Polymele the gay. 
Famed in the graceful dance, produced to 

day. 



THE ILIAD 



437 



Her, sly Cyllenius lov'd; on her would 

gaze, 
As with swift step she form'd the running 

maze: 
To her high chamber, from Diana's quire, 220 
The God pursued her, urged, and crown'd 

his fire. 
The son confessed his father's heav'nly 

race. 
And heir'd his mother's swiftness in the 

chase. 
Strong Echecleiis, bless'd in all those 

charms 
That pleas'd a God, succeeded to her arms; 
Not conscious of those loves, long hid from 

fame, 
With gifts of price he sought and won the 

dame; 
Her secret offspring to her sire she bare ; 
Her sire caress'd him with a parent's 

care. 229 

Pisander follow'd; matchless in his art 
To wing the spear, or aim the distant 

dart; 
No hand so sure of all th' Emathian line, 
Or if a surer, great Patroclus ! thine. 
The fourth by Phcenix' grave command 

was graced : 
Laerces' valiant offspring led the last. 
Soon as Achilles with superior care 
Had call'd the Chiefs, and order'd all the 

war. 
This stern remembrance to his troops he 

gave: 
* Ye far-famed Myrmidons, ye fierce and 

brave ! 
Think with what threats you dared the 

Trojan throng, 240 

Think what reproach these ears endured so 

long: 
" Stern son of Peleus " (thus ye used to 

say, 
While restless, raging, in your ships you 

lay), 

" Oh nurs'd with gall, unknowing how to 

yield ! 
Whose rage defrauds us of so famed a 

field. 
If that dire fury must for ever burn, 
What make we here ? Return, ye Chiefs, 

return ! " 
Such were your words. Now, warriors, 

grieve no more, 
Lo there the Trojans ! bathe your swords in 

gore 1 



This day shall give you all your soul de- 
mands; 250 

Glut all your hearts ! and weary all your 
hands ! ' 
Thus while he rous'd the fire in ev'ry 
breast, 

Close, and more close, the list'ning cohorts 
press'd; 

Ranks wedg'd in ranks, of arms a steely 
ring 

Still grows and spreads and thickens round 
the King. 

As when a circling wall the builder forms, 

Of strength defensive against winds and 
storms, 

Compacted stones the thick'ning work com- 
pose. 

And round him wide the rising structure 
grows: 

So helm to helm, and crest to crest they 
throng, 260 

Shield urged on shield, and man drove man 
along: 

Thick undistinguish'd plumes, together 
join'd, 

Float in one sea, and wave before the 
wind. 
Far o'er the rest, in glitt'ring pomp ap- 
pear. 

There bold Automedon, Patroclus here; 

Brothers in arms, with equal fury fired; 

Two friends, two bodies with one soul in- 
spired. 
But, mindful of the Gods, Achilles went 

To the rich coffer in his shady tent: 

There lay on heaps his various garments 
roll'd, 270 

And costly furs, and carpets stiff with 
gold 

(The presents of the silver-footed dame) ; 

From thence he took a bowl of antique 
frame, 

Which never man had stain'd with ruddy 
wine. 

Nor rais'd in offerings to the Powers di- 
vine. 

But Peleus' son; and Peleus' son to none 

Had rais'd in offerings, but to Jove alone. 

This, tinged with sulphur, sacred first to 
flame. 

He purged; and wash'd it in the running 
stream. 

Then cleans'd his hands; and, fixing for a 
space 280 

His eyes on Heav'n, his feet upon the place 



438 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Of sacrifice, the purple draught he pour'd 
Forth iu the midst; and thus the God 

iniplor'd: 
*0h thou Supreme! high -throned all 

height above ! 
Oh great Pelasgic, Dodonean Jove ! 
Who, 'midst surrounding frosts, and va° 

pours chill, 
Presid'st on bleak Dodona's vocal hill 
(Whose groves the Selli, race austere ! 

surround, 
Their feet unwash'd, their slumbers on the 

ground ; 
Who hear from rustling oaks thy dark de- 
crees; 290 
And catch the fates low-whisper'd in the 

breeze): 
Hear, as of old: Thou gavest at Thetis' 

prayer, 
Glory to me, and to the Greeks despair: 
Lo, to the dangers of the fighting field 
The best, the dearest of my friends, I 

yield: 
Tho' still determin'd, to my ships confin'd, 
Patroclus gone, I stay but half behind. 
Oh be his guard thy providential care. 
Confirm his heart, and string his arm to war; 
Press'd by his single force, let Hector 

see 300 

His fame in arms not owing all to me. 
But when the fleets are saved from foes 

and fire. 
Let him with conquest and renown retire; 
Preserve his arms, preserve his social train. 
And safe return him to these eyes again ! ' 
Great Jove consents to half the Chief's 

request. 
But Heav'n's eternal doom denies the rest: 
To free the fleet was granted to his prayer; 
His safe return the winds dispers'd in air. 
Back to his tent the stern Achilles flies, 310 
And waits the combat with impatient eyes. 
Meanwhile the troops, beneath Patroclus' 

care, 
Invade the Trojans, and commence the war. 
As wasps, provoked by children in their 

play, 

Pour from their mansions by the broad 

hjoj'hwav, 
In swarms the guiltless traveller engage. 
Whet all their stings, and call forth all 

their rage: 
All rise in arms, and with a gen'ral cry 
Assert their waxen domes, and buzzing 

progeny. 



Thus from the tents the fervent legion 
swarms, 320 

So loud their clamours, and so keen their 
arms ; 

Their rising rage Patroclus' breath inspires, 

Who thus inflames them with heroic fires: 
'Oh warriors, partners of Achilles' praise ! 

Be mindful of your deeds in ancient days: 

Your Godlike master let your acts pro- 
claim, 

And add new glories to his mighty name. 

Think your Achilles sees you fight: be 
brave, 

And humble the proud Monarch whom you 
save.' 
Joyful they heard, and, kindling as he 
spoke, ^ _ 330 

Flew to the fleet, involv'd in fire and 
smoke. 

From shore to shore the doubling shouts 
resound. 

The hollow ships return a deeper sound. 

The war stood still, and all around them 
gazed. 

When great Achilles' shining armour 
blazed : 

Troy saw, and thought the dread Achilles 
nigh; 

At once they see, they tremble, and they fly. 
Then first thy spear, divine Patroclus ! 
flew, 

Where the war raged, and where the tu- 
mult grew. 

Close to the stern of that famed ship, 
which bore 340 

Unbless'd Protesilaus to Ilion's shore. 

The great Pseonian, bold Pyrsechmes, stood, 

Who led his bands from Axius' winding 
flood: 

His shoulder - blade receives the fatal 
wound ; 

The groaning warrior pants upon the 
ground. 

His troops, that see their country's glory 
slain. 

Fly diverse, scatter'd o'er the distant plain. 

Patroclus' arm forbids the spreading fires. 

And from the half-burn'd ship proud Troy 
retires, 

Clear'd from the smoke the joyful navy 
lies, 350 

In heaps on heaps the foe tumultuous flies; 

Triumphant Greece her rescued decks as- 
cends. 

And loud acclaim the starry region rends. 



THE ILIAD 



439 



So when thick clouds enwrap the moun- 
tain's head, 
O'er Heav'n's expanse like one black ceil- 
ing spread : 
Sudden the Thund'rer, with a flashing ray, 
Bursts thro' the darkness, and lets down 

the day: 
The hills shine out, the rocks in prospect 

rise, 
And streams, and vales, and forests strike 

the eyes; 
The smiling scene wide opens to the 
sight, 360 

And all th' unmeasur'd ether flames with 
light. 
But Troy repuls'd, and scatter'd o'er the 
plains, 
Forc'd from the navy, yet the fight main- 
tains. 
Now ev'ry Greek some hostile hero slew, 
But still the foremost bold Patroclus flew: 
As Areilycus had turn'd him round, 
Sharp in his thigh he felt the piercing 

wound ; 
The brazen-pointed spear, with vigour 

thrown, 
The thigh transfix'd, and broke the brittle 

bone: 
Headlong he fell. Next, Thoas, was thy 
chance, 370 

Thy breast, unarm'd, receiv'd the Spartan 

lance. 
Phylides' dart, as Amphiclus drew nigh, 
His blow prevented, and transpierced his 

thigh, 
Tore all the brawn, and rent the nerves 

away ; 
In darkness and in death the warrior lay. 

In equal arms two sons of Nestor stand. 
And two bold brothers of the Lycian band: 
By great Antilochus, Antymnius dies, 
Pierc'd in the flank, lamented youth ! he 

lies. 
Kind Maris, bleeding in his brother's 
wound, 380 

Defends the breathless carcass on the 

ground. 
Furious he flies, his murd'rer to engage, 
But godlike Thrasymed prevents his rage: 
Between his arm and shoulder aims a blow; 
His arm falls spouting on the dust below: 
He sinks, with endless darkness cover'd 

o'er, 
And vents his soul, effused with gushing 
gore. 



Slain by two brothers, thus two brothers 
bleed, 
Sarpedon's friends, Amisodarus' seed; 
Amisodarus, who, by Furies led, 390 

The bane of man, abhorr'd Chimsera bred: 
Skill'd in the dart in vain, his sons expire, 
And pay the forfeit of their guilty sire. 
Stopp'd in the tumult Cleobulus lies, 
Beneath Oileus' arm, a living prize; 
A living prize not long the Trojan stood: 
The thirsty falchion drank his reeking 

blood ; 
Plunged in his throat the smoking weapon 

lies: 
Black Death, and Fate unpitying, seal his 
eyes. 
Amid the ranks, with mutual thirst of 
fame, 400 

Lycon the brave, and fierce Peneleus came; 
In vain their jav'lins at each other flew; 
Now, met in arms, their eager swords they 

drew: 
On the plumed crest of his Boeotian foe 
The daring Lycon aim'd a noble blow; 
The sword broke short; but his, Peneleus 

sped 
Full on the juncture of the neck and head: 
The head, divided by a stroke so just, 
Hung by the skin; the body sunk to dust. 

O'ertaken Acamas by Merion bleeds, 410 
Pierc'd thro' the shoulders as he mounts his 

steeds: 
Back from the car he tumbles to the 

ground; 
His swimming eyes eternal shades sur- 
round. 
Next Erymas was doom'd his fate to feel : 
His open'd mouth receiv'd the Cretan steel; 
Beneath the brain the point a passage 

tore, 
Crash'd the thin bones, and ground the 

teeth in gore. 
His mouth, his eyes, his nostrils, pour a 

flood; 
He sobs his soul out in the gush of blood. 
As when the flocks neglected by the 
swain 420 

(Or kids, or lambs) lie scatter'd o'er the 

plain, 
A troop of wolves th' unguarded charge 

survey, 
And rend the trembling, unresisting prey: 
Thus on the foe the Greeks impetuous 

came : 
Troy fled, unmindful of her former fame. 



440 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



But still at Hector godlike Ajax aim'd, 
Still, pointed at his breast, his jav'lin 

flamed: 
The Trojan Chief, experiene'd in the field. 
O'er his broad shoulders spread the massy 

shield, 
Observ'd the storm of darts the Grecians 

pour, 430 

And on his buckler caught the ringing 

shower. 
He sees for Greece the scale of conquest 

rise. 
Yet stops, and turns, and saves his lov'd 

allies. 
As when the hand of Jove a tempest 

forms. 
And rolls the clouds to blacken Heav'n 

with storms, 
Dark o'er the fields th' ascending vapour 

flies, 
And shades the sun, and blots the golden 

skies: 
So from the ships, along the dusky plain. 
Dire Fright and Terror drove the Trojan 

train. 
Ev'n Hector fled; thro' heaps of disarray 440 
The fiery coursers forc'd their lord away : 
While far behind his Trojans fall confused, 
Wedg'd in the trench, in one vast carnage 

bruis'd. 
Chariots on chariots roll; the clashing 

spokes 
Shock; while the madd'ning steeds break 

short their yokes. 
In vain they labour up the steepy mound; 
Their charioteers lie foaming on the ground. 
Fierce on the rear, with shouts, Patroclus 

flies; 
Tumultuous clamour fills the fields and 

skies; 
Thick drifts of dust involve their rapid 

flight; 450 

Clouds rise on clouds, and Heav'n is 

snatch'd from sight. 
Th' affrighted steeds, their dying lords 

cast down. 
Scour o'er the fields, and stretch to reach 

the town. 
Loud o'er the rout was heard the victor's 

cry. 
Where the war bleeds, and where the 

thickest die; 
Where horse, and arms, and chariots, lie 

o'erthrown, 
And bleeding heroes under axles groan. 



No stop, no check, the steeds of Peleus 

knew; 
From bank to bank th' immortal coursers 

flew, 
High-bounding o'er the fosse: the whirling 

car 460 

Smokes thro' the ranks, o'ertakes the flying 

war. 
And thunders after Hector; Hector flies, 
Patroclus shakes his lance ; but Fate denies. 
Not with less noise, with less impetuous 

force, 
The tide of Trojans urge their desperate 

course. 
Than when in autumn Jove his fury pours, 
And earth is laden with incessant showers 
(When guilty mortals break th' eternal 

laws, 
Or judges, bribed, betray the righteous 

cause) ; 
From their deep beds he bids the rivers 

rise, 470 

And opens all the floodgates of the skies: 
Th' impetuous torrents from their hills obey, 
Whole fields are drown'd, and mountains 

swept away; 
Loud roars the deluge till it meets the main; 
And trembling man sees all his labours 

vain. 
And now the Chief (the foremost troops 

repell'd) 
Back to the ships his destin'd progress held, 
Bore down half Troy in his resistless way, 
And forc'd the routed ranks to stand the 

day. 
Between the space where silver Simois 

flows, 480 

Where lay the fleets, and where the ram- 

pires rose. 
All grim with dust and blood, Patroclus 

stands, 
And turns the slaughter on the conquering 

bands. 
First Pronous died beneath his fiery dart. 
Which pierc'd below the shield his valiant 

heart. 
Thestor was next; who saw the Chief ap- 
pear, 
And fell the victim of his coward fear : 
Shrunk up he sat, with wild and haggard 

eye. 
Nor stood to combat, nor had force to fly: 
Patroclus mark'd him as he shunn'd the 

war, 490 

And with unmanly trembling shook the car, 



THE ILIAD 



441 



And dropp'd the flowing reins. Him 'twixt 

the jaws 
The jav'liu sticks, and from the chariot 

draws. 
As on a rock that overhangs the main, 
An angler, studious of the line and cane, 
Some mighty fish draws panting on the 

shore ; 
Not with less ease the barbed jav'lin bore 
The gaping dastard; as the spear was 

shook, 
He fell, and life his heartless breast for- 
sook. 
Next on Eryalus he flies; a stone, 500 
Large as a rock, was by his fury thrown: 
Full on his crown the poud'rous fragment 

flew. 
And burst the helm, and cleft the head in 

two: 
Prone to the ground the breathless warrior 

fell. 
And death involv'd him with the shades of 

hell. 
Then low in dust Epaltes, Echius, lie; 
Ipheas, Evippus, Polymelus, die; 
Amphoterus and Erymas succeed; 
And last Tlepolemus and Pyres bleed. 
Where'er he moves, the growing slaughters 

spread 510 

In heaps on heaps; a monument of dead. 
When now Sarpedon his brave friends 

beheld 
Grovelling in dust, and gasping on the field, 
With this reproach his flying host he warms; 
* Oh stain to honour! oh disgrace to arms! 
Forsake, inglorious, the contended plain; 
This hand, unaided, shall the war sustain; 
The task be mine, this hero's strength to 

try, 

Who mows whole troops, and makes an 

army fly.' 
He spake; and, speaking, leaps from off 

the car; 520 

Patroclus lights, and sternly waits the war. 
As when two vultures on the mountain's 

height 
Stoop with resounding pinions to the fight; 
They cuff, they tear, they raise a screaming 

cry; 
The desert echoes, and the rocks reply: 
The warriors thus, opposed in arms, engage 
With equal clamours, and with equal rage. 
Jove view'd the combat, whose event 

foreseen, 
He thus bespoke his Sister and his Queen: 



*The hour draws on; the destinies ordain 
My godlike son shall press the Phrygian 

plain: 531 

Already on the verge of death he stands. 
His life is ow'd to fierce Patroclus' hands. 
What passions in a parent's breast debate! 
Say, shall I snatch him from impending 

fate, 
And send him safe to Lycia, distant far 
From all the dangers and the toils of war ? 
Or to his doom my bravest offspring yield. 
And fatten with celestial blood the field ? ' 
Then thus the Goddess with the radiant 

eyes: 540 

' What words are these ? O Sov'reign of 

the Skies! 
Short is the date prescribed to mortaL 

man; 
Shall Jove, for one, extend the narrow 

span, 
Whose bounds were fix'd before his race 

began ? 
How many sons of Gods, foredoom 'd to 

death, 
Before proud Ilion must resign their 

breath! 
Were thine exempt, debate would rise 

above. 
And murm'ring Powers condemn their 

partial Jove. 
Give the bold Chief a glorious fate in fight; 
And when th' ascending soul has wing'd 

her flight, 550 

Let Sleep and Death convey, by thy com- 
mand. 
The breathless body to his native land. 
His friends and people, to his future praise, 
A marble tomb and pyramid shall raise. 
And lasting honours to his ashes give; 
His fame ('t is all the dead can have) shall 

live.' 
She said; the Cloud-compeller, over- 
come, 
Assents to Fate, and ratifies the doom. 
Then, touch'd with grief, the weeping Hea- 



v'ns distill'd 



559 



A shower of blood o'er all the fatal field; 
The God, his eyes averting from the plain. 
Laments his son, predestin'd to be slain. 
Far from the Lycian shores, his happy 
native reign. 
Now met in arms, the combatants ap- 
pear. 
Each heav'd the shield, and pois'd the 
lifted spear; 



442 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



From strong Patroclus' hand the jav'lin fled, 

And pass'd the groin of valiant Thrasy- 
med; 

The nerves unbraced no more his bulk sus- 
tain ; 

He falls, and falling bites the bloody plain. 

Two sounding darts the Lyeian leader 
threw; 570 

The first aloof with erring fury flew, 

The next transpierc'd Achilles' mortal 
steed, 

The gen'rous Pedasus, of Theban breed, 

Fix'd in the shoulder-joint; he reel'd 
around, 

Roird in the bloody dust, and paw'd the 
slipp'ry ground. 

His sudden fall th' entangled harness 
broke ; 

Each axle crackled, and the chariot shook: 

When bold Automedon, to disengage 

The starting coursers, and restrain their 
rage, 

Divides the traces with his sword, and 
freed 580 

Th' encumber'd chariot from the dying 
steed: 

The rest move on, obedient to the rein; 

The car rolls slowly o'er the dusty plain. 
The tow'ring Chiefs to fiercer fight ad- 
vance. 

And first Sarpedon whirl'd his mighty 
lance, 

Which o'er the warrior's shoulder took its 
course. 

And spent in empty air its dying force. 

Not so Patroclus' never-erring dart; 

Aim'd at his breast, it pierc'd the mortal 
part. 

Where the strong fibres bind the solid 
heart. 590^ 

Then, as the mountain oak, or poplar tall, 

Or pine (fit mast for some great admiral), 

Nods to the axe, till with a groaning sound 

It sinks, and spreads its honours on the 
ground; 

Thus fell the King; and, laid on earth 
supine. 

Before his chariot stretch 'd his form divine: 

He grasp'd the dust distain'd with stream- 
ing gore, 

And, pale in death, lay groaning on the 
shore. 

So lies a bull beneath the lion's paws, 

While the grim savage grinds with foam- 
ing jaws 600 



The trembling limbs, and sucks the smok- 
ing blood; 

Deep groans, and hollow roars, rebellow 
thro' the wood. 
Then to the leader of the Lyeian band 

The dying Chief address'd his last com- 
mand: 

* Glaucus, be bold; thy task be first to dare 

The glorious dangers of destructive war. 

To lead my troops, to combat at their head, 

Incite the living, and supply the dead. 

Tell them, I charged them with my latest 
breath 609 

Not unrevenged to bear Sarpedon's death. 

What grief, what shame, must Glaucus 
undergo, 

If these spoil'd arms adorn a Grecian foe ! 

Then as a friend, and as a warrior, fight; 

Defend my body, conquer in my right; 

That, taught by great examples, all may try 

Like thee to vanquish, or like me to die.' 
He ceas'd; the Fates suppress'd his la- 
b'ring breath, 

And his eyes darken'd with the shades of 
death. 

Th' insulting victor with disdain bestrode 

The prostrate Prince, and on his bosom 
trod ; 620 

Then drew the veeapon from his panting 
heart. 

The reeking fibres clinging to the dart; 

From the wide wound gush'd out a stream 
of blood. 

And the soul issued in the purple flood. 

His flying steeds the Myrmidons detain, 

Unguided now, their mighty master slain. 

All-impotent of aid, transfix'd with grief. 

Unhappy Glaucus heard the dying Chief. 

His painful arm, yet useless with the smart 

Inflicted late by Teucer's deadly dart, 630 

Supported on his better hand he stay'd ; 

To Phcebus then ('twas all he could) he 
pray'd : 
* All-seeing Monarch ! w'hether Lycia's 
coast, 

Or sacred Ilion, thy bright presence boast. 

Powerful alike to ease the wretch's smart; 

hear me ! God of ev'ry healing art ! 

Lo ! stiff with clotted blood, and pierc'd 

Avith pain, 
That thrills my arm, and shoots thro' ev'ry 

vein: 

1 stand unable to sustain the spear. 

And sigh, at distance from the glorious 
war. 640 



THE ILIAD 



443 



Low in the dust is great Sarpedon laid, 
Nor Jove vouchsafed his hapless offspring 

aid. 
But thou, O God of health ! thy succour 

lend, 
To guard the reliques of my slaughter'd 

friend. 
For thou, tho' distant, canst restore my 

might. 
To head my Lycians, and support the fight.' 
Apollo heard ; and, suppliant as he stood, 
His heav'nly hand restrain'd the tlux of 

blood; 
He drew the dolours from the wounded 

part, 
And breathed a spirit in his rising heart. 650 
Kenew'd by art divine, the hero stands, 
And owns th' assistance of immortal hands. 
First to the fight his native troops he 

warms, 
Then loudly calls on Troy's vindictive 

arms; 
With ample strides he stalks from place to 

place, 
Now fires Agenor, now Polydamas; 
iEneas next, and Hector he accosts; 
Inflaming thus the rage of all their hosts: 
* What thoughts, regardless Chief ! thy 

breast employ, 
Oh too forgetful of the friends of Troy ! 660 
Those gen'rous friends, who, from their 

country far, 
Breathe their brave souls out in another's 

war. 
See ! where in dust the great Sarpedon lies, 
In action valiant, and in council wise, 
Who guarded right, and kept his people 

free ; 
To all his Lycians lost, and lost to thee ! 
Stretch'd by Patroclus' arm on yonder 

plains; 
Oh save from hostile rage his lov'd re- 
mains ! 
Ah ! let not Greece his conquer'd trophies 

boast, 669 

Nor on his corse revenge her heroes lost.' 
He spoke: each leader in his grief par- 
took; 
Troy, at the loss, thro' all her legions 

shook ; 
Transfix'd with deep regret, they view o'er- 

thrown 
At once his country's pillar, and their own; 
A Chief, who led to Troy's beleaguered wall 
A host of heroes, and outshined them all. 



Fired, they rush on ; first Hector seeks the 

foes. 
And with superior vengeance greatly glows. 
But o'er the head the fierce Patroclus 

stands, 
And, rousing Ajax, rous'd the list'ning 

bands: 680 

' Heroes, be men I be what you were be- 
fore; 
Or weigh the great occasion, and be more. 
The Chief who taught our lofty walla to 

yield, 
Lies pale in death, extended on the field: 
To guard his body, Troy in numbers flies; 
'T is half the glory to maintain our prize. 
Haste, strip his arms, the slaughter round 

him spread, 
And send the living Lycians to the dead.' 

The heroes kindle at his fierce command; 
The martial squadrons close on either 

hand: 690 

Here Troy and Lycia charge with loud 

alarms, 
Thessalia there and Greece oppose their 

arms. 
With horrid shouts they circle round the 

slain ; 
The clash of armour rings o'er all the plain. 
Great Jove, to swell the horrors of the 

fight, 
O'er the fierce armies pours pernicious 

night, 
And round his son confounds the warring 

hosts. 
His fate ennobling with a crowd of ghosts. 
Now Greece gives way, and great Epi- 

geus falls; 699 

Agacleus' sou, from Budium's lofty walls: 
Who, chased for murder thence, a sup- 
pliant came 
To Peleus and the silver-footed dame; 
Now sent to Troy, Achilles' arms to aid. 
He pays the vengeance to his kinsman's 

shade. 
Soon as his luckless hand had touch'd the 

dead, 
A rock's large fragment thunder'd on his 

head ; 
Hurl'd by Hectorean force, it cleft in 

twain 
His shatter'd helm, and stretch'd him o'er 

the slain. 
Fierce to the van of fight Patroclus 

came; 
And, like an eagle darting at his game, jio 



444 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Sprung on the Trojan and the Lycian band: 
What grief thy heart, what fury urged thy 

hand, 
Oh gen'rous Greek ! when with full vigour 

thrown 
At Sthenelaiis flew the weighty stone, 
Which sunk him to the dead: when Troy, 

too near 
That arm, drew back; and Hector learu'd 

to fear. 
Far as an able hand a lance can throw, 
Or at the lists, or at the fighting foe, 718 
So far the Trojans from their lines retired ; 
Till Glaucus, turning, all the rest inspired. 
Then Bathycleiis fell beneath his rage, 
The only hope of Chalcon's trembling age: 
Wide o'er the land was stretch'd his large 

domain, 
With stately seats and riches bless'd in 

vain. 
Him, bold with youth, and eager to pursue 
The flying Lycians, Glaucus met, and slew; 
Pierc'd thro' the bosom with a sudden 

wound. 
He fell, and, falling, made the fields re- 
sound. 
Th' Achaians sorrow for their hero slain; 
With conquering shouts the Trojans shake 

the plain, 730 

And crowd to spoil the dead: the Greeks 

oppose: 
An iron circle round the carcass grows. 

Then brave Laogonus resign'd his breath, 
Despatch'd by Merion to the shades of 

death : 
On Ida's holy hill he made abode, 
The priest of Jove, and honour'd like his 

God. 
Between the jaw and ear the jav'lin went: 
The soul, exhaling, issued at the vent. 

His spear ^neas at the victor threw, 
Who, stooping forward, from the death 

withdrew; 740 

The lance hiss'd harmless o'er his cov'ring 

shield. 
And trembling struck, and rooted in the 

field; 
There yet scarce spent, it quivers on the 

plain. 
Sent by the great Eneas' arm in vain. 

* Swift as thou art ' (the raging hero cries), 

* And skill'd in dancing to dispute the prize, 
My spear, the destin'd passage had it 

found. 
Had fix'd thy active vigour to the ground.' 



' Oh valiant leader of the Dardan host ! ' 
(Insulted Merion thus retorts the boast); 
' Strong as you are, 't is mortal force you 

trust, 751 

An arm as strong may stretch thee in the 

dust. 
And if to this my lance thy fate be giv'n. 
Vain are thy vaunts; success is still from 

Heav'n: 
This, instant, sends thee down to Pluto's 

coast: 
Mine is the glory, his thy parting ghost.' 
' O friend ! ' (Mencetius' son this answer 

gave) 
' With words to combat ill befits the brave: 
Not empty boasts the sons of Troy repel. 
Your swords must plunge them to the 

shades of Hell. 760 

To speak, beseems the council: but to dare 
In glorious action, is the task of war.' 

This said, Patroclus to the battle flies; 
Great Merion follows, and new shouts 

arise : 
Shields, helmets rattle, as the warriors 

close; 
And thick and heavy sounds the storm of 

blows. 
As thro' the shrilling vale, or mountain 

ground. 
The labours of the woodman's axe re- 
sound; 
Blows following blows are heard re-echo- 
ing wide. 
While crackling forests fall on ev'ry 

side: 770 

Thus echoed all the fields with loud alarms, 
So fell the warriors, and so rung their 

arms. 
Now great Sarpedon on the sandy shore. 
His Jieav'nly form defaced with dust and 

gore, 
And stuck with darts by warring heroes 

shed. 
Lies undistinguish'd from the vulgar dead. 
His long-disputed corse the chiefs enclose, 
On ev'ry side the busy combat grows; 
Thick as beneath some shepherd's thatch'd 

abode, 
(The pails high foaming with a milky 

flood), 780 

The buzzing flies, a persevering train. 
Incessant swarm, and chased return again. 
Jove view'd the combat with a stern sur- 
vey, 
And eyes that flash'd intolerable day; 



THE ILIAD 



445 



Fix'd on the field his sight, his breast de- 
bates 

The vengeance due, and meditates the 
fates: 

Whether to urge their prompt effect, and 
call 

The force of Hector to Patroclus' fall, 

This instant see his short-lived trophies 
won, 

And stretch him breathless on his slangh- 
ter'd son; 790 

Or yet, with many a soul's untimely flight, 

Augment the fame and horror of the fight. 

To crown Achilles' valiant friend with 
praise 

At length he dooms: and that his last of 
days 

Shall set in glory; bids him drive the foe; 

Nor unattended see the shades below. 

Then Hector's mind he fills with dire dis- 
may: 

He mounts his car, and calls his hosts away; 

Sunk with Troy's heavy fates, he sees de- 
cline 

The scales of Jove, and pants with awe 

divine. 800 

Then, nor before, the hardy Lycians fled, 

And left their Monarch with the common 
dead : 

Around, in heaps on heaps, a dreadful wall 

Of carnage rises, as the heroes fall. 

(So Jove decreed !) At length the Greeks 
obtain 

The prize contested, and despoil the slain. 

The radiant arms are by Patroclus borne, 

Patroclus' ships the glorious spoils adorn. 
Then thus to Phcebus in the realms 
above. 

Spoke from his throne the cloud-compel- 
ling Jove: 810 

* Descend, my Phcebus I on the Phrygian 
plain. 

And from the fight convey Sarpedon slain: 

Then bathe his body in the crystal flood. 

With dust dishonour'd, and deforra'd with 
blood : 

O'er all his limbs ambrosial odours shed, 

And with celestial robes adorn the dead. 

Those rites discharged, his sacred corse be- 
queath 

To the soft arms of silent Sleep and Death: 

They to his friends the mournful charge 
shall bear " 

His friends a tomb and pyramid shall 
rear; 820 



What honours mortals after death receive, 
Those unavailing honours we may give.' 
Apollo bows, and from Mount Ida's 

height. 
Swift to the field precipitates his flight; 
Thence from the war the breathless hero 

bore, 
Veil'd in a cloud to silver Simois' shore; 
There bathed his honourable wounds, and 

dress'd 
His manly members in th' immortal vest 
And with perfumes of sweet ambrosial 

dews. 
Restores his freshness, and his form re- 
news. 830 
Then Sleep and Death, two twins of winged 

race, 
Of matchless swiftness, but of silent pace, 
Receiv'd Sarpedon at the God's command. 
And in a moment reach'd the Lycian land; 
The corse amidst his weeping friends they 

laid. 
Where endless honours wait the sacred 

shade. 
Meanwhile Patroclus pours along the 

plains, 
With foaming coursers, and with loosen 'd 

reins: 
Fierce on the Trojan and the Lycian crew. 
Ah blind to Fate ! thy headlong fury 

flew: 840 

Against what Fate and powerful Jove or- 
dain, 
Vain was thy friend's command, thy cour- 
age vain. 
For he, the God, whose counsels uncon- 

troll'd 
Dismay the mighty, and confound the bold; 
The God, who gives, resumes, and orders 

all, 
He urged thee on, and urged thee on to fall. 
Who first, brave hero ! by that arm was 

slain. 
Who last beneath thy vengeance press'd 

the plain, 
When Heav'n itself thy fatal fury led, 
And call'd to fill the number of the 

dead ? 850 

Ad restus first; Autonoiis then succeeds; 
Echeclus follows; next young Megas bleeds; 
Epistor, Menalippus, bite the ground: 
The slaughter Elasus and Mulius crown'd: 
Then sunk Pylartes to eternal night; 
The rest, dispersing, trust their fates to 

flight. 



446 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Now Troy had stoop'd beneath his 

matchless power 
But flaming Phcebus kept the sacred tower. 
Thrice at the battlements Patroclus struck, 
His blazing- aegis thrice Apollo shook: 860 
He tried the fourth; when, bursting from 

the cloud, 
A more than mortal voice was heard aloud: 
'Patroclus ! cease; this Heav'u-def ended 

wall 
Defies thy lance, not fated yet to fall; 
Thy friend, thy greater far, it shall with- 
stand, 
Troy shall not stoop, ev'nto Achilles' hand.' 
So spoke the God who darts celestial 

fires: 
The Greek obeys him, and with awe re- 
tires : 
While Hector, checking at the Scsean gates 
His panting coursers, in his breast de- 
bates, 870 
Or in the field his forces to employ. 
Or draw the troops within the walls of 

Troy. 
Thus while he thought, beside him 

Phcebus stood. 
In Asius' shape, who reign'd bv Sangar's 

flood 
(Thy brother, Hecuba ! from Dymas 

sprung, 
A valiant warrior, haughty, bold and 

young) : 
Thus he accosts him: 'What a shameful 

sight ! 
Gods ! is it Hector that forbears the fight ? 
Were thine my vigour, this successful spear 
Should soon convince thee of so false a 

fear. 880 

Turn thee, ah turn thee to the Field of 

Fame, 
And in Patroclus' blood efface thy shame. 
Perhaps Apollo shall thy arms succeed. 
And Heav'n ordains him by thy lance to 

bleed.' 
So spoke th' inspiring God: then took 

his flight, 
And plunged amidst the tumult of the 

fight. 
He bids Cebrion drive the rapid car; 
The lash resounds, the coursers rush to 

war: 
The God the Grecians' sinking souls de- 

press'd, 
And pour'd swift spirits thro' each Trojan 

breast. 890 



Patroclus lights, impatient for the fight; 
A spear his left, a stone employs his right: 
With all his nerves he drives it at the foe; 
Pointed above, and rough and gross below: 
The falling ruin crush'd Cebrion's head. 
The lawless offspring of King Priam's bed; 
His front, brows, eyes, one uudistiiiguish'd 

wound; 
The bursting balls drop sightless to the 

ground. 
The charioteer, while yet he held the rein, 
Struck from the car, falls headlong on the 

plain. 900 

To the dark shades the soul unwilling 

glides, 
While the proud victor thus his fall de- 
rides: 
' Good Heav'ns ! what active feats yon 

artist shews ! 
What skilful divers are our Phrygian foes ! 
Mark with what ease they sink into the 

sand ! 
Pity, that all their practice is by land ! ' 
Then rushing sudden on his prostrate 

prize. 
To spoil the carcass fierce Patroclus flies: 
Swift as a lion, terrible and bold, 
That sweeps the fields, depopulates the 

fold; 910 

Piere'd thro' the dauntless heart, then 

tumbles slain; 
And from his fatal courage finds his bane. 
At once bold Hector, leaping from his car, 
Defends the body, and provokes the war. 
Thus for some slaughter'd hind, with equal 

rage. 
Two lordly rulers of the wood engage; 
Stung with fierce hunger each the prey in- 
vades, 
And echoing roars rebellow thro' the 

shades. 
Stern Hector fastens on the warrior's head, 
And by the foot Patroclus drags the 

dead; 920 

While all around, confusion, rage, and fright 
Mix the contending hosts in mortal fight. 
So, pent by hills, the wild winds roar aloud 
In the deep bosom of some gloomy wood; 
Leaves, arms, and trees, aloft in air are 

blown. 
The broad oaks crackle, and the Sylvans 

groan; 
This way and that the rattling thicket 

bends, 
And the whole forest in one crash descends. 



THE ILIAD 



447 



Not with less noise, with less tumultuous 
rage, 

In dreadful shock the mingled hosts en- 
gage. 930 

Darts shower'd on darts now round the car- 
cass ring; 

Now flights of arrows bounding from the 
string : 

Stones follow stones; some clatter on the 
fields, 

Some, hard and heavy, shake the sounding 
shields. 

But where the rising whirlwind clouds 
the plains, 

Sunk in soft dust the mighty Chief re- 
mains, 

And, stretch'd in death, forgets the guid- 
ing reins ! 

Now, flaming from the zenith, Sol had 
driv'n 

His fervid orb thro' half the vault of 
Heav'n ; 939 

While on each host with equal tempest fell 

The show'ring darts, and numbers sunk to 
hell. 

But when his evening wheels o'erhung the 
main. 

Glad conquest rested on the Grecian train. 

Then, from amidst the tumult and alarms. 

They draw the conquer'd corse and radiant 
arms. 

Then rash Patroclus with new fury glows. 

And, breatliing slaughter, pours amid the 
foes. 

Thrice on the press like Mars himself he 
flew, 

And thrice three heroes at each onset 
slew. 

There ends thy glory! there the Fates un- 
twine 950 

The last black remnant of so bright a line; 

Apollo dreadful stops thy middle way; 

Death calls, and Heav'n allows no longer 
day! 
For lo! the God in dusky clouds en- 
shriu'd. 

Approaching, dealt a stagg'ring blow be- 
hind. 

The weiglity shock his neck and shoulders 
feel; 

His eyes flash sparkles, his stunn'd senses 
reel 

In giddy darkness ; far to distance flung, 

His bounding helmet on the champaign 
rung. 



Achilles' plume is stain'd with dust and 

gore, 960 

That plume which never stoop'd to earth 

before; 
Long used, untouch'd, in fighting fields to 

shine. 
And shade the temples of the man divine. 
Jove dooms it now on Hector's helm to nod; 
Not long — for Fate pursues him, and the 

God. 
His spear in shivers falls: his ample 

shield 
Drops from his arm: his baldric strews the 

field: 
The corslet his astonish'd breast forsakes ; 
Loose is each joint; each nerve with horror 

shakes, 969 

Stupid he stares, and all assistless stands: 
Such is the force of more than mortal 

hands! 
A Dardan youth there was, well known 

to fame. 
From Panthus sprung, Euphorbus was his 

name ; 
Famed for the manage of the foaming 

horse, 
Skill'd in the dart, and matchless in the 

course: 
Full twenty knights he tumbled from the 

car. 
While yet he learn'd his rudiments of war. 
His venturous spear first drew the hero's 

gore; 
He struck, he wounded, but he durst no 

more ; 979 

Nor, tho' disarm 'd, Patroclus' fury stood. 
But swift withdrew the long-protended 

wood. 
And turn'd him short, and herded in the 

crowd. 

Thus by an arm divine, and mortal spear. 
Wounded at once, Patroclus yields to fear. 
Retires for succour to his social train. 
And flies the fate which Heav'n decreed, in 

vain. 
Stern Hector, as the bleeding Chief he 

views. 
Breaks thro' the ranks, and his retreat pur- 
sues: 
The lance arrests him with a mortal wound ; 
He falls, earth thunders, and his arms re- 
sound. 990 
With him all Greece was sunk; that mo- 
ment all 
Her yet surviving heroes seem'd to fall. 



448 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



So, scorch'd with heat, along the desert 

shore. 
The roaming lion meets a bristly boar, 
Fast by the spring; they both dispute the 

flood. 
With flaming eyes and jaws besmear'd with 

blood; 
At length the sov'reign savage wins the 

strife. 
And the torn boar resigns his thirst and 

life. 
Patroclus thus, so many Chiefs o'erthrown. 
So many lives effused, expires his own, looo 
As dying now at Hector's feet he lies. 
He sternly views him, and triumphing cries: 
'Lie there, Patroclus! and with thee the 

Thy pride once promis'd, of subverting 

Troy; 
The fancied scenes of Ilion wrapp'd in 

flames. 
And thy soft pleasures serv'd with captive 

dames! 
Unthinking man! I fought those towers to 

free, 
And guard that beauteous race from lords 

like thee: 
But thou a prey to vultures shalt be made ; 
Thy own Achilles cannot lend thee aid; loio 
Tho' much at parting that great Chief 

might say, 
And much enjoin thee, this important day: 
" Return not, my brave friend " (perhaps "1 

he said), 
"Without the bloody arms of Hector I 

dead." 
He spoke, Patroclus march'd, and thus 

he sped.' 

Supine, and wildly gazing on the skies. 
With faint expiring breath, the Chief replies: 
'Vain Boaster! cease, and know the 

Powers divine: 
Jove's and Apollo's is this deed, not thine; 
To Heav'n is owed whate'er your own you 

call, 1020 

And Heav'n itself disarm'd me ere my fall. 
Had twenty mortals, each thy match in 

might, 
Opposed me fairly, they had sunk in fight: 
By Fate and Phoebus was I first o'erthrown, 
Euphorbus next; the third mean part thy 

own. 
But thou, Imperious! hear my latest breath; 
The Gods inspire it, and it sounds thy 

death. 



Insulting man, thou shalt be soon as I; 
Black Fate hangs o'er thee, and thy hour 

draws nigh; 
Ev'n now on life's last verge I see thee 

stand. 1030 

I see thee fall, and by Achilles' hand.' 
He faints; the soul unwilling wings her 

way 
(The beauteous body left a load of clay), 
Flits to the lone, uncomfortable coast; 
A naked, wand'ring, melancholy ghost! 

Then Hector pausing, as his eyes he fed 
On the pale carcass, thus address 'd the 

dead: 
* From whence this boding speech, the 

stern decree 
Of death denounc'd, or why denounc'd to 

me? 
Why not as well Achilles' fate be giv'n 1040 
To Hector's lance ? who knows the will of 

Heav'n ? ' 
Pensive he said: then, pressing as be lay 
His breathless bosom, tore the lance away, 
And upwards cast the corse: the reeking 

spear 
He shakes, and charges the bold charioteer. 
But swift Automedon with loosen'd reins, 
Rapt in the chariot o'er the distant plains. 
Far from his rage th' immortal coursers 

drove ; 
Th' immortal coursers were the gift of 

Jove. 



BOOK xvn 

THE SEVENTH BATTLE, FOR THE BODY OF 
PATROCLUS, — THE ACTS OF MENELAUS 

THE ARGUMENT 

Menelaus. upon the death of Patroclus, de- 
fends his body from the enemy : Euphorbus, 
who attempts it, is slain. Hector advancing-, 
Menelaus retires; but soon returns with 
Ajax, and drives him off. This Glaucus 
objects to Hector as a flig'ht, who thereupon 
puts on the armour he had won from Patro- 
clus, and renews the battle. The Greeks 
give way, till Ajax rallies them : ^neas sus- 
tains the Trojans, -^neas and Hector at- 
tempt the chariot of Achilles, which is borne 
off by Automedon. The horses of Achilles 
deplore the loss of Patroclus ; Jupiter covers 
his body with a thick darkness : the noble 
prayer of Ajax on that occasion. Menelaus 
sends Antilochus to Achilles, with the news 



THE ILIAD 



449 



of Patroclus's death : then returns to the 
fight, where, though attacked with the ut- 
most fury, he and Meriones, assisted by the 
Ajaces, bear off the body to the ships. 
The time is the evening of the eight-and-twen- 
tieth day. The scene lies in the fields be- 
fore Troy. 

On the cold earth divine Patroclus 

spread, 
Lies pierc'd with wounds among the vulgar 

dead. 
Great Menelaus, touch'd with geu'rous 

woe, 
Springs to the front, and guards him from 

the foe: 
Thus, round her new-fall'n young the heifer 

moves. 
Fruit of her throes, and first-born of her 

loves; 
And anxious (helpless as he lies, and bare) 
Turns and re-turns her, with a mother's 

care. 
Opposed to each that near the carcass came. 
His broad shield glimmers, and his lances 

flame. lo 

The son of Panthus, skill'd the dart to 

send. 
Eyes the dead hero, and insults the friend: 
'This hand, Atrides, laid Patroclus low; 
Warrior! desist, nor tempt an equal blow. 
To me the spoils my prowess won, resign; 
Depart with life, and leave the glory mine.' 
The Trojan thus: the Spartan Monarch 

burn'd 
With gen'rous anguish, and in scorn re- 
turn 'd: 
* Laugh'st thou not, Jove! from thy superior 

throne, 
When mortals boast of prowess not their 

own ? 20 

Not thus the lion glories in his might. 
Nor panther braves his spotted foe in 

fight; 
Nor thus the boar (those terrors of the 

plain) ; 
Man only vaunts his force, and vaunts in 

vain. 
But far the vainest of the boastful kind 
These sons of Panthus vent their haughty 

mind. 
Yet 't was but late, beneath my conquering 

steel 
This boaster's brother, Hyperenor, fell: 28 
Against our arm, which rashly he defied, 
Vain was his vigour, and as vain his pride. 



These eyes beheld him on the dust expire, 
No more to cheer his spouse, or glad his 

sire. 
Presumptuous youth! like his shall be thy 

doom. 
Go, wait thy brother to the Stygian gloom ; 
Or, while thou may'st, avoid the threaten'd 

fate; 
Fools stay to feel it, and are wise too late/ 
Unmov'd, Euphorbus thus: * That action 

known. 
Come, for my brother's blood repay thy 

own. 
His weeping father claims thy destin'd 

head. 
And spouse, a widow in her bridal bed. 40 
On these thy conquer'd spoils I shall be- 
stow, 
To soothe a consort's and a parent's woe. 
No longer then defer the glorious strife, 
Let Heav'n decide our Fortune, Fame, and 

Life.' 
Swift as the word the missile lance he 

flings. 
The well-aim'd weapon on the buckler 

rings. 
But, blunted by the brass, innoxious falls: 
On Jove, the father, great Atrides calls; 
Nor flies the jav'lin from his arm in vain; 
It pierc'd his throat, and bent him to the 

plain ; 50 

Wide thro' the neck appears the grisly 

wound, 
Prone sinks the warrior, and his arms re- 
sound. 
The shining circlets of his golden hair, 
Which ev'n the Graces might be proud to 

wear, 
Instarr'd with gems and gold, bestrew the 

shore, 
With dust dishonour'd, and deform'd with 

gore. 
As the young olive, in some sylvan 

scene, 
Crown'd by fresh fountains with eternal 

green. 
Lifts the gay head, in snowy flow'rets 

fair. 
And plays and dances to the gentle air; 60 
When lo I a whirlwind from high Heav'n 

invades 
The tender plant, and withers all its 

shades; 
It lies uprooted from its genial bed, 
A lovely ruin now defaced and dead : 



450 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Thus young, thus beautiful, Euphorbus lay, 
While the fierce Spartan tore his arms 

away. 
Proud of his deed, and glorious in the 

prize, 
Affrighted Troy the tow'ring victor flies; 
Flies, as before some mountain lion's ire 
The village curs and trembling swains re- 
tire; 70 
When o'er the slaughter'd bull they hear 

him roar, 
And see his jaws distil with smoking gore; 
All pale with fear, at distance scatter'd 

round. 
They shout incessant, and the vales re- 
sound. 
Meanwhile Apollo view'd with envious 

eyes, 
And urged great Hector to dispute the 

prize 
(In Mentes' shape, beneath whose martial 

care 
The rough Ciconians learn'd the trade of 

war): 
* Forbear,' he cried, * with fruitless speed 

to chase 
Achilles' coursers, of ethereal race; 80 

They stoop not, these, to mortal man's 

command, 
Or stoop to none but great Achilles' hand. 
Too long amused with a pursuit so vain. 
Turn, and behold the brave Euphorbus 

slain ! 
By Sparta slain; for ever now suppress'd 
The fire which burn'd in that undaunted 

breast ! ' 
Thus having spoke, Apollo wing'd his 

flight, 
And mix'd with mortals in the toils of 

fight: 
His words infix'd unutterable care 
Deep in great Hector's soul: thro' all the 

war 90 

He darts his anxious eye: and instant 

view'd 
The breathless hero in his blood imbrued 
(Forth welling from the wound, as prone 

he lay). 
And in the victor's hand the shining prey. 
Sheathed in bright arms, thro' cleaving 

ranks he flies. 
And sends his voice in thunder to the 

skies: 
Fierce as a flood of flame by Vulcan sent. 
It flew, and fired the nations as it went. 



Atrides from the voice the storm divin'd. 
And thus explor'd his own unconquer'd 

mind : 100 

' Then shall I quit Patroclus on the 

plain. 
Slain in my cause, and for my honour 

slain; 
Desert the arras, the relics of my friend ? 
Or singly Hector and his troops attend ? 
Sure, where such partial favour Heav'n 

bestow'd, 
To brave the Hero were to brave the God : 
Forgive me, Greece, if once I quit the 

field; 
'T is not to Hector, but to Heav'n, I yield. 
Yet, nor the God nor Heav'n should give 

me fear. 
Did but the voice of Ajax reach my ear: no 
Still would we turn, still battle on the 

plains. 
And give Achilles all that yet remains 
Of his and our Patroclus.' This, no more. 
The time allow'd: Troy thicken'd on the 

shore ; 
A sable scene ! The terrors Hector led ; 
Slow he recedes, and sighing quits the dead. 
So from the fold th' unwilling lion parts, 
Forc'd by loud clamours, and a storm of 

darts; 
He flies indeed, but threatens as he 

flies, 119 

With heart indignant and retorted eyes. 
Now, enter'd in the Spartan ranks, he 

turn'd 
His manly breast, and with new fury 

burn'd: 
O'er all the black battalions sent his view, 
And thro' the cloud the godlike Ajax 

knew; 
Where lab'ring on the left the warrior 

stood. 
All grim in arms, and cover'd o'er with 

blood; 
There breathing courage, where the God 

of Day 
Had sunk each heart with terror and 

dismay. 
To him the King: ' Oh ! Ajax, oh my 

friend ! 
Haste, and Patroclus' lov'd remains de- 
fend: 130 
The body to Achilles to restore. 
Demands our care; alas ! we can no more ! 
For naked now, despoil'd of arms, he lies; 
And Hector glories in the dazzling prize.' 



THE ILIAD 



451 



He said, and touch'd his heart. The rag- 
ing pair 

Pierce the thick battle, and provoke the 
war. 

Already had stern Hector seiz'd his head, 

And doom'd to Trojan dogs th' unhappy 
dead; 

But soon as Ajax rear'd his tower-like 
shield. 

Sprung to his car, and measured back the 
field. 140 

His train to Troy the radiant armour bear. 

To stand a trophy of his fame in war. 
Meanwhile great Ajax (his broad shield 
display 'd) 

Guards the dead hero with the dreadful 
shade; 

And now before, and now behind he stood: 

Thus, in the centre of some gloomy wood. 

With many a step the lioness surrounds 

Her tawny young, beset by men and 
hounds; 

Elate her heart, and rousing all her 
powers. 

Dark o'er the fiery balls each hanging eye- 
brow lowers, 150 

Fast by his side the gen'rous Spartan glows 

With great revenge, and feeds his inward 
woes. 
But Glaucus, leader of the Lycian aids. 

On Hector frowning, thus his flight up- 
braids: 

* Where now in Hector shall we Hector 
find? 

A manly form, without a manly mind ! 

Is this, O Chief ! a hero's boasted fame ? 

How vain, without the merit, is the name ! 

Since battle is renounc'd, thy thoughts 
employ 

What other methods may preserve thy 
Troy : 160 

'T is time to try if Ilion's state can stand 

By thee alone, nor ask a foreign hand ; 

Mean, empty boast ! but shall the Lycians 
stake 

Their lives for you ? those Lycians you 
forsake ? 

What from thy thankless arms can we ex- 
pect ? 

Thy friend Sarpedon proves thy base ne- 
glect: 

Say, shall our slaughter'd bodies guard 
your walls. 

While unrevenged the great Sarpedon 
falls ? 



Ev'n where he died for Troy, you left him 

there, 
A feast for dogs, and all the fowls of 
air. 170 

On my command if any Lycian wait. 
Hence let him march, and give up Troy to 

fate. 
Did such a spirit as the Gods impart 
Impel one Trojan hand, or Trojan heart 
(Such as should burn in every soul that 

draws 
The sword for glory, and his country's 

cause), 
Ev'n yet our mutual arms we might em- 
ploy, 
And drag yon carcass to the walls of Troy. 
Oh ! were Patroclus ours, we might obtain 
Sarpedon's arms, and honour'd corse, 



again 



180 



Greece with Achilles' friend should be re- 
paid, 
And thus due honours purchas'd to his 

shade. 
But words are vain. Let Ajax once ap- 
pear. 
And Hector trembles and recedes with 

fear; 
Thou darest not meet the terrors of his 

eye; 
And lo, already thou preparest to fly.' 
The Trojan Chief with fix'd resentment 

eyed 
The Lycian leader, and sedate replied: 
* Say, is it just (my friend) that Hector's 

ear 
From such a warrior such a speech should 

hear ? igo 

I deem'd thee once the wisest of thy kind, 
But ill this insult suits a prudent mind. 
I shun great Ajax ? I desert my train ? 
'T is mine to prove the rash assertion 

vain ; 
I joy to mingle where the battle bleeds, 
And hear the thunder of the sounding 

steeds. 
But Jove's high will is ever uncontroll'd. 
The strong he withers, and confounds the 

bold: 
Now crowns with fame the mighty man, 

and now 
Strikes the fresh garland from the victor's 

brow ! 200 

Come, thro' yon squadrons let us hew the 

way, 
And thou be witness if I fear to-day; 



452 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



If yet a Greek the sight of Hector dread, 
Or yet their hero dare defend the dead.' 
Then, turning to the martial hosts, he 

cries, 
* Ye Trojans, Dardans, Lycians, and allies ! 
Be men (my friends) in action as in name, 
And yet be mindful of your ancient fame. 
Hector in proud Achilles' arms shall shine, 
Torn from his friend, by right of conquest 

mine.' 210 

He strode along the field as thus he 

said 
(The sable plumage nodded o'er his head) : 
Swift thro' the spacious plain he sent a look; 
One instant saw, one instant overtook 
The distant band, that on the sandy shore 
The radiant spoils to sacred Ilion bore. 
There his own mail unbraced the field be- 
strew 'd; 
His train to Troy convey'd the massy load. 
Now blazing in th' immortal arms he 

stands, 219 

The work and present of celestial hands; 
By aged Peleus to Achilles giv'n, 
As first to Peleus by the court of Heav'n: 
His father's arms not long Achilles wears. 
Forbid by Fate to reach his father's years. 
Him, proud in triumph, glitt'ring from 

afar, 
The God whose thunder rends the troubled 

air 
Beheld with pity ! as apart he sat, 
And, conscious, look'd thro' all the scene of 

fate, 
He shook the sacred honours of his head; 
Olympus trembled, and the Godhead said: 
* Ah, wretched man ! unmindful of thy 

end ! 231 

A moment's glory, and what fates attend ! 
In heav'nly panoply, divinely bright 
Thou stand'st, and armies tremble at thy 

sight. 
As at Achilles' self ! beneath thy dart 
Lies slain the great Achilles' dearer part: 
Thou from the mighty dead those arms 

hast torn. 
Which once the greatest of mankind had 

worn. 
Yet live ! I give thee one illustrious day, 
A blaze of glory ere thou fadest away. 240 
For ah ! no more Andromache shall come, 
With joyful tears to welcome Hector home; 
No more officious, with endearing charms, 
From thy tired limbs unbrace Pelides' 



arms 



f » 



Then with his sable brow he gave the 

nod. 
That seals his word; the sanction of the 

God. 
The stubborn arms (by Jove's command 

disposed) 
Conform'd spontaneous, and around him 

closed: 
Fill'd with the God, enlarged his members 

grew. 
Thro' all his veins a sudden vigour flew: 250 
The blood in brisker tides began to roll. 
And Mars himself came rushing on his 

soul. 
Exhorting loud thro' all the field he strode, 
And look'd, and mov'd, Acliilles, or a God. 
Now Mesthles, Glaucus, Medon he in- 
spires. 
Now Phorcys, Chromius, and Hippothoiis 

fires; 
The great Thersilochus like fury found, "] 
Asteropseus kindled at the sound, > 

And Ennomus, in augury renown'd. J 
* Hear, all ye hosts, and hear, unnumber'd 

bands 260 

Of neighb'ring nations, or of distant lands ! 
'T was not for state we summon'd you so 

far. 
To boast our numbers, and the pomp of 

war; 
Ye came to fight; a valiant foe to chase, 
To save our present and our future race. 
For this, our wealth, our products, you en- 
joy, 
And glean the relics of exhausted Troy. 
Now, then, to conquer or to die prepare, 
To die or conquer are the terms of war. 
Whatever hand shall win Patroclus slain. 
Whoe'er shall drag him to the Trojan 

train, 271 

With Hector's self shall equal honours 

claim ; 
With Hector part the spoil, and share the 

fame.' 
Fired by his words, the troops dismiss 

their fears, 
They join, they thicken, they protend their 

spears; 
Full on the Greeks they drive in firm array, 
And each from Ajax hopes the glorious 

prey: 
Vain hope ! what numbers shall the field 

o'erspread. 
What victims perish round the mighty 

dead I 



THE ILIAD 



453 



Great Ajax mark'd the growing storm 
from far, 280 

And thus bespoke his brother of the war: 

• Our fatal day, alas ! is come, my friend, 
And all our wars and glories at an end ! 
'Tis not this corse alone we guard in vain, 
Condemned to vultures on the Trojan 

plain; 
We too must yield; the same sad fate must 

fall 
On thee, on me, perhaps (my friend) on all. 
See what a tempest direful Hector spreads, 
And lo ! it bursts, it thunders on our 

heads ! 
Call on our Greeks, if any hear the call, 290 
The bravest Greeks: this hour demands 

them all.' 
The warrior rais'd his voice, and wide 

around 
The field re-echoed the distressful sound : 

* Oh Chiefs ! oh Princes ! to whose hand is 

giv'n 
The rule of men; whose glory is from 

Heav'n ! 
Whom with due honours both Atrides 

grace : 
Ye guides and guardians of our Argive 

race ! 
All, whom this well-known voice shall 

reach from far, 
All, whom I see not thro' this cloud of war, 
Come all ! let gen'rous rage your arms 

employ, 300 

And save Patroclus from the dogs of Troy.' 

Oilean Ajax first the voice obey'd, 
Swift was his pace and ready was his aid; 
Next him Idomeneus, more slow with age. 
And Merion, burning with a hero's rage. 
The long-succeeding numbers who can 

name ? 
But all were Greeks, and eager all for 

fame. 
Fierce to the charge great Hector led the 

throng; 
Whole Troy, embodied, rush'd with shouts 

along. 
Thus, when a mountain billow foams and 

raves, 310 

Where some swoln river disembogues his 

waves. 
Full in the mouth is stopp'd the rushing 

tide, 
The boiling ocean works from side to side, 
The river trembles to his utmost shore, 
And distant rocks rebellow to the roar. 



Nor less resolv'd, the firm Achaian band 
With brazen shields in horrid circle stand: 
Jove, pouring darkness o'er the mingled 

Conceals the warriors' shining helms in 

night: 
To him the Chief, for whom the hosts con- 
tend, 320 
Had liv'd not hateful, for he liv'd a friend: 
Dead he protects him with superior care, 
Nor dooms his carcass to the birds of air. 
The first attack the Grecians scarce sus- 
tain, 
Repuls'd, they yield; the Trojans seize the 

slain: 
Then fierce they rally, to revenge led on 
By the swift rage of Ajax Telamon 
(Ajax, to Peleus' son the second name, 
In graceful stature next, and next in fame). 
With headlong force the foremost ranks he 
tore: 330 

So thro' the thicket bursts the mountain 

boar, 
And rudely scatters, far to distance round. 
The frighted hunter and the baying hound. 
The son of Lethus, brave Pelasgus' heir, 
Hippothoiis, dragg'd the carcass thro' the 

war; 
The sinewy ancles bored, the feet he bound 
With thongs, inserted thro' the double 

wound; 
Inevitable Fate o'ertakes the deed; 
Doom'd by great Ajax' vengeful lance to 

bleed ; 
It cleft the helmet's brazen cheeks in 
twain; 34a 

The shatter'd crest and horsehair strew the 

plain : 
With nerves relax'd he tumbles to the 

ground. 
The brain comes gushing thro' the ghastly 

wound: 
He drops Patroclus' foot, and, o'er him 

spread. 
Now lies a sad companion of the dead: 
Far from Larissa lies, his native air. 
And ill requites his parent's tender care. 
Lamented youth ! in life's first bloom he 

fell, 
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of Hell. 

Once more at Ajax Hector's jav'lin flies; 
The Grecian marking as it cut the skies, 351 
Shunn'd the descending death, which, hiss- 
ing on, 
Stretch'd in the dust the great Iphitus' son^ 



454 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Schedius the brave, of all the Phocian 

kind 
The boldest warrior, and the noblest mind: 
In little Panope, for strength renown'd, 
He held his seat, and ruled the realms 

around. 
Plunged in his throat, the weapon drank 

his blood, 
And, deep transpiercing, thro' the shoulder 

stood; 
In clanging arms the hero fell, and all 360 
The fields resounded with his weighty fall. 
Phorcys, as slain Hippothous he defends. 
The Telamonian lance his belly rends; 
The hollow armour burst before the stroke. 
And thro' the wound the rushing entrails 

broke. 
In strong convulsions panting on the sands 
He lies, and grasps the dust with dying 

hands. 
Struck at the sight, recede the Trojan 

train : 
The shouting Argives strip the heroes 

slain. 
And now had Troy, by Greece compell'd 

to yield, 370 

Fled to her ramparts, and resign'd the field ; 
Greece, in her native fortitude elate, 
With Jove averse, had turn'd the scale of 

Fate; 
But Phcebus urged ^Eneas to the fight; 
He seem'd like aged Periphas to sight 
(A herald in Anchises' love grown old, 
Revered for prudence, and, with prudence, 

bold). 
Thus he: * What methods yet, oh Chief! 

remain, 
To save your Troy, tho' Heav'n its fall 

ordain ? 
There have been heroes, who, by virtuous 

care, 380 

By valour, numbers, and by arts of war. 
Have forc'd the Powers to spare a sinking 

state, 
And gain'd at length the glorious odds of 

Fate. 
But you, when Fortune smiles, when Jove 

declares 
His partial favour, and assists your wars, 
Your shameful efforts 'gainst yourselves 

employ. 
And force th' unwilling God to ruin Troy.* 
iEneas, thro' the form assumed, descries 
The power conceal'd, and thus to Hector 

cries: 



* Oh lasting shame ! to our own fears a 

prey, 390 

We seek our ramparts, and desert the day. 
A God (nor is he less) my bosom warms, 
And tells me Jove asserts the Trojan 

arms.' 
He spoke, and foremost to the combat 

flew; 
The bold example all his hosts pursue. 
Then first Leocritus beneath him bled, 
In vain beloved by valiant Lycomede; 
Who view'd his fall, and, grieving at the 

chance, 
Swift to revenge it, sent his angry lance: 
The whirling lance, with vig'rous force ad- 

dress'd, 400 

Descends, and pants in Apisaon's breast: 
From rich Pseonia's vales the warrior came; 
Next thee, Asteropeus ! in place and fame, 
Asteropeus with grief beheld the slain. 
And rush'd to combat, but he rush'd in vain: 
Indissolubly firm, around the dead, 
Rank within rank, on buckler buckler 

spread, 
And hemm'd with bristled spears, the Gre- 
cians stood; 
A brazen bulwark, and an iron wood. 409 
Great Ajax eyes them with incessant care, 
And in an orb contracts the crowded war. 
Close in their ranks commands to fight or 

fall. 
And stands the centre and the soul of all : 
Fix'd on the spot they war, and wounded, 

wound; 
A sanguine torrent steeps the reeking 

ground; 
On heaps the Greeks, on heaps the Trojans 

bled. 
And, thick'ning round them, rise the hills 

of dead. 
Greece, in close order and collected 

might. 
Yet suffers least, and sways the wav'ring 

fight; 
Fierce as conflicting fires, the combat burns. 
And now it rises, now it sinks, by turns. 421 
In one thick darkness all the fight was lost: 
The sun, the moon, and all th' ethereal 

host, 
Seem'd as extinct; day ravish'd from their 

eyes, 
And all Heav'n's splendours blotted from 

the skies. 
Such o'er Patroclus' body hung the night, 
The rest in sunshine fought, and open light: 



THE ILIAD 



455 



Unclouded there, th' aerial azure spread, 
No vapour rested on the mountain's head, 
The golden sun pour'd forth a stronger 

raj, ^ 430 

And all the broad expansion flamed with 

day. 
Dispers'd around the plain, by fits they 

fight, 
And here, and there, their scatter'd arrows 

light: 
But death and darkness o'er the carcass 

spread, 
There burn'd the war, and there the mighty 

bled. 
Meanwhile the sons of Nestor, in the rear 
(Their fellows routed), toss the distant 

spear, 
And skirmish wide: so Nestor gave com- 
mand. 
When from the ships he sent the Pylian 

band. 
The youthful brothers thus for fame con- 
tend, 440 
Nor knew the fortune of Achilles' friend; 
In thought they view'd him still, with mar- 
tial joy. 
Glorious in arms, and dealing deaths to 

Troy. 
But round the corse the heroes pant for 

breath, 
And thick and heavy grows the work of 

death: 
O'erlabour'd now, with dust, and sweat, 

and gore, 
Their knees, their legs, their feet, are cov- 

er'd o'er; 
Drops follow drops, the clouds on clouds 

arise. 
And carnage clogs thair hands, and dark- 
ness fills their eyes. 
As when a slaughter'd bull's yet reeking 

hide, 450 

Strain'd with full force, and tugg'd from 

side to side. 
The brawny curriers stretch; and labour 

o'er 
Th' extended surface, drunk with fat and 

gore; 
So tugging round the corse both armies 

stood; 
The mangled body bathed in sweat and 

blood: 
While Greeks and Ilians equal strength 

employ. 
Now to the ships to force it, now to Troy. 



Not Pallas' self, her breast when fury 

warms. 
Nor he whose anger sets the world in arms, 
Could blame this scene; such rage, such 

horror, reign'd; 46a 

Such Jove to honour the great dead or- 

dain'd. 
Achilles in his ships at distance lay, 
Nor knew the fatal fortune of the day; 
He, yet unconscious of Patroclus' fall, 
In dust extended under Ilion's wall. 
Expects him glorious from the conquer'd 

plain, 
And for his wish'd return prepares in vain; 
Tho' well he knew, to make proud Ilion 

bend, 
Was more than Heav'n had destin'd to his 

friend, 469 

Perhaps to him: this Thetis had reveal'd; 
The rest, in pity to her son, conceal'd. 
Still raged the conflict round the hero 

dead, 
And heaps on heaps by mutual wounds 

they bled. 

* Curs'd be the man ' (ev'n private Greeks 

would say) 

* Who dares desert this well-disputed day! 
First may the cleaving earth before our 

eyes 
Gape wide, and drink our blood for sacri- 
fice! 
First perish all, ere haughty Troy shall 

boast 
We lost Patroclus, and our glory lost.' 
Thus they. While with one voice the 

Trojans said, 480 

'Grant tliis day, Jove! or heap us on the 

dead! ' 
Then clash their sounding arms; the 

clangors rise. 
And shake the brazen concave of the skies. 
Meantime, at distance from the scene of 

blood. 
The pensive steeds of great Achilles stood; 
Their godlike master slain before their eyes, 
They wept, and shared in human miseries. 
In vain Automedon now shakes the rein. 
Now plies the lash, and soothes and threats 

in vain; 489 

Nor to the fight, nor Hellespont they go; 
Restive they stood, and obstinate in woe: 
Still as a tombstone, never to be mov'd. 
On some good man, or woman unreprov'd, 
Lays its eternal weight; or fix'd as stands 
A marble courser by the sculptor's hands 



45^ 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Placed on the hero's grave. Along their 

face 
The big round drops cours'd down with 

silent pace, 
Conglobing on the dust. Their manes, that 

late 
Circled their arched necks, and waved in 

state, 
Trail'd on the dust beneath the yoke were 

spread, 500 

And prone to earth was hung their languid 

head : 
Nor Jove disdain'd to cast a pitying look. 
While thus relenting to the steeds he spoke: 

' Unhappy coursers of immortal strain! 
Exempt from age, and deathless now in 

vain; 
Did we 3'our race on mortal man bestow, 
Only, alas! to share in mortal woe ? 
For ah! what is there, of inferior birth, 
That breathes or creeps upon the dust of 

earth ; 
What wretched creature of what wretched 

kind, 510 

Than man more weak, calamitous, and 

blind ? 
A miserable race! but cease to mourn: 
For not by you shall Priam's son be borne 
High on the splendid car: one glorious 

prize 
He rashly boasts; the rest our will denies. 
Ourself will swiftness to your nerves im- 
part, 
Ourself with rising spirits swell your heart. 
Automedon your rapid flight shall bear 
Safe to the navy thro' the storm of war. 
For yet 't is given to Troy, to ravage o'er 
The field, and spread her slaughters to the 

shore ; 52 1 

The sun shall see her conquer, till his fall 
With sacred darkness shades the face of 

all.' 
He said; and breathing in th' immortal 

horse 
Excessive spirit, urged them to the course ; 
From their high manes they shake the dust, 

and bear 
The kindling chariot thro' the parted war. 
So flies a vulture thro' the clam'rous train 
Of geese, that scream, and scatter round 

the plain. 
From danger now with swiftest speed they 

flew, ^ 530 

And now to conquest with like speed pur- 
sue; 



Sole in the seat the charioteer remains. 
Now plies the jav'lin, now directs the reins: 
Him brave Alcimedon beheld distress'd, 
Approach'd the chariot, and the Chief ad- 
dress'd: 

* What God provokes thee, rashly thus to 

dare. 

Alone, unaided, in the thickest war ? 

Alas! thy friend is slain, and Hector wields 

Achilles' arms triumphant in the fields.' 
' In happy time (the charioteer replies). 

The bold Alcimedon now greets my eyes; 

No Greek like him the heav'nly steeds re- 
strains, 542 

Or holds their fury in suspended reins: 

Patroclus, while he liv'd, their rage could 
tame. 

But now Patroclus is an empty name! 

To thee I yield the seat, to thee resign 

The ruling charge: the task of fight be 
mine.' 
He said. Alcimedon, with active heat. 

Snatches the reins, and vaults into the seat. 

His friend descends. The Chief of Troy 
descried, 550 

And call'd ^neas fighting near his side : 

* Lo, to my sight beyond our hope restor'd, 
Achilles' car, deserted of its lord! 

The glorious steeds our ready arms invite. 
Scarce their weak drivers guide them thro' 

the fight: 
Can such opponents stand, when we assail ? 
Unite thy force, my friend, and we prevail.' 

The son of Venus to the counsel yields: 
Then o'er their backs they spread their 

solid shields; 
With brass refulgent the broad surface 

shin'd, 560 

And thick bull-hides the spacious concave 

lin'd. 
Them Chromius follows, Aretus succeeds. 
Each hopes the conquest of the lofty steeds; 
In vain, brave youths, with glorious hopes 

ye burn, 
In vain advance ! not fated to return. 

Unmov'd, Automedon attends the fight, 
Implores th' Eternal, and collects his 

might. 
Then, turning to his friend, with dauntless 

mind : 

* Oh keep the foaming coursers close be- 

hind I 
Full on my shoulders let their nostrils 

blow, 570 

For hard the fight, determin'd is the foe; 



THE ILIAD 



457 



'Tis Hector comes; and when he seeks the 

prize, 
War knows no mean : he wins it, or he dies.' 
Then thro' the field he sends his voice 

aloud, 
And calls th' Ajaces from the warring 

crowd. 
With great Atrides. * Hither turn' (he 

said), 
* Turn where distress demands immediate 

aid; 
The dead, encircled by his friends, forego, 
And save the living from a fiercer foe. 
Unhelp'd we stand, unequal to engage 580 
The force of Hector and Eneas' rage: 
Yet mighty as they are, my force to prove 
Is only mine; th' event belongs to Jove.' 
He spoke, and high the sounding jav'lin 

flung. 
Which pass'd the shield of Aretus the 

young; 
It pierc'd his belt, emboss'd with curious 

art; 
Then in the lower belly stuck the dart. 
As when a pond'rous axe, descending full. 
Cleaves the broad forehead of some brawny 

bull; 
Struck 'twixt the horns, he springs with 

many a bound, 590 

Then tumbling rolls enormous on the 

ground : 
Thus fell the youth; the air his soul re- 

ceiv'd, 
And the spear trembled as his entrails 

heav'd. 
Now at Automedon the Trojan foe 
Discharged his lance; the meditated blow. 
Stooping, he shunn'd; the jav'lin idly fled. 
And hiss'd innoxious o'er the hero's head: 
Deep rooted in the ground, the forceful 

spear 
In long vibrations spent its fury there. 
With clashing falchions now the Chiefs had 

closed, 600 

But each brave Ajax heard, and inter- 
posed ; 
Nor longer Hector with his Trojans stood, 
But left their slain companion in his blood: 
His arms Automedon divests, and cries, 
' Accept, Patroclus, this mean sacrifice. 
Thus have 1 soothed my griefs, and thus 

have paid, 
Poor as it is, some off 'ring to thy shade.' 
So looks the lion o'er a mangled boar, 
All grim with rage, and horrible with gore : 



High on the chariot at one bound he 

sprung, 610 

And o'er his seat the bloody trophies hung. 

And now Minerva, from the realms of 

air. 
Descends impetuous, and renews the war; 
For, pleas'd at length the Grecian arms to 

aid. 
The Lord of Thunders sent the Blue-eyed 

Maid. 
As when high Jove, denomicing future 

woe, 
O'er the dark clouds extends his purple 

bow 
(In sign of tempests from the troubled air, 
Or, from, the rage of man, destructive 

war); 
The drooping cattle dread th' impending 

skies, 620 

And from his half-till'd field the lab'rer 

flies: 
In such a form the Goddess round her 

drew 
A livid cloud, and to the battle flew. 
Assuming Phceuix' shape, on earth she 

falls. 
And in his well-known voice to Sparta 

calls: 
* And lies Achilles' friend, belov'd by all, 
A prey to dogs beneath the Trojan wall ? 
What shame to Greece for future times to 

tell. 
To thee the greatest, in whose cause he 

fell ! ' 
* O Chief, oh Father ! ' (Atreus' son re- 
plies) 630 
' O full of days ! by long experience wise ! 
What more desires my soul, than here, 

unmov'd, 
To guard the body of the man I lov'd ? 
Ah would Minerva send me strength to 

rear 
This wearied arm, and ward the storm of 

war ! 
But Hector, like the rage of fire, we dread, 
And Jove's own glories blaze around his 

head.' 
Pleas'd to be first of all the Powers ad- 

dress'd. 
She breathes new vigour in her hero's 

breast. 
And fills with keen revenge, with fell de- 
spite, 640 
Desire of blood, and rage, and lust of 

fight. 



458 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



So burns the vengeful hornet (soul all 

o'er), 
Repuls'd in vain, and thirsty still of gore 
(Bold son of air and heat), on angry wings 
Untamed, untired, he turns, attacks, and 

stings: 
Fired with like ardour tierce Atrides flew, 
And sent his soul with every lance he 

threw. 
There stood a Trojan, not unknown to 

Fame, 
Eetion's son, and Podes was his name; 
With riches honour'd, and with courage 

bless'd, 650 

By Hector lov'd, his comrade, and his 

guest; 
Thro' his broad belt the spear a passage 

found. 
And, pond'rous as he falls, his arms re- 
sound. 
Sudden- at Hector's side Apollo stood. 
Like Phsenops, Asius' son, appear'd the 

God 
(Asius the great, who held his wealthy 

reign 
In fair Abydos, by the rolling main). 

* Oh Prince' (he cried), 'oh foremost 

once in Fame ! 
What Grecian now shall tremble at thy 

name ? 
Dost thou at length to Menelaiis yield ? 660 
A Chief, once thought no terror of the 

field ! 
Yet singly, now, the long-disputed prize 
He bears victorious, while our army flies. 
By the same arm illustrious Podes bled. 
The friend of Hector, unrevenged, is 

dead ! ' 
This heard, o'er Hector spreads a cloud of 

woe, 
Rage lifts his lance, and drives him on the 

foe. 
But now th' Eternal shook his sable 

shield, 
That shaded Ide, and all the subject field. 
Beneath its ample verge. A rolling 

cloud 670 

Involv'd the mount, the thunder roar'd 

aloud: 
Th' affrighted hills from their foundations 

nod. 
And blaze beneath the lightnings of the 

God: 
At one regard of his all-seeing eye, 
The vanquish'd triumph, and the victors fly. 



Then trembled Greece: the flight Peue- 

leus led; 
For, as the brave Boeotian turn'd his head 
To face the foe, Polydamas drew near. 
And razed his shoulder with a shorten'd 

spear: 679 

By Hector wounded, Leitus quits the plain, 
Pierc'd thro' the wrist; and, raging with 

the pain. 
Grasps his once formidable lance in vain. 
As Hector follow'd, Idomen address'd 
The flaming jav'Un to his manly breast; 
The brittle point before his corslet yields; 
P^xulting Troy with clamour fills the fields: 
High on his chariot as the Cretan stood. 
The son of Priam whirl'd the missive 

wood : 
But, erring from its aim, th' impetuous 

spear 
Struck to the dust the squire and chari- 
oteer 690 
Of martial Merion: Coeranus his name, 
Who left fair Lyctus for the fields of fame. 
On foot bold Merion fought; and now, laid 

low, 
Had graced the triumphs of his Trojan 

foe; 
But the brave squire the ready coursers 

brought. 
And with his life his master's safety bought. 
Between his cheek and ear the weapon 

went. 
The teeth it shatter'd, and the tongue it 

rent. 
Prone from the seat he tumbles to the 

plain; 
His dying hand forgets the falling rein: 700 
This Merion reaches, bending from the car, 
And urges to desert the hopeless war; 
Idomeneus consents; the lash applies; 
And the swift chariot to the navy flies. 
Nor Ajax less the will of Heav'n de- 
scried. 
And conquest shifting to the Trojan side, 
Turn'd by the hand of Jove. Then thus 

begun. 
To Atreus' seed, the godlike Telamon: 
* Alas ! who sees not Jove's almighty 

hand 709 

Transfers the glory to the Trojan band ! 
Whether the weak or strong discharge the 

dart, 
He guides each arrow to a Grecian heart: 
Not so our spears: incessant tho' they rain, 
He suffers ev'ry lance to fall in vain. 



THE ILIAD 



459 



Deserted of the God, yet let us try 

What human strength and prudence can 

supply; 
If yet this honour'd corse, in triumph 

borne, 
May glad the fleets that hope not our re- 
turn. 
Who tremble yet, scarce rescued from their 

fates, 
And still hear Hector thund'ring at their 

gates. 720 

Some hero too must be despatch'd to bear 
The mournful message to Pelides' ear; 
For sure he knows not, distant on the 

shore. 
His friend, his lov'd Patroclus, is no more. 
But such a Chief I spy not thro' the host: 
The men, the steeds, the armies, all are 

lost 
In gen'ral darkness: Lord of earth and 

air ! 
Oh King ! oh Father ! hear my humble 

prayer : 
Dispel this cloud, the light of Heav'n re- 
store ; 
Give me to see, and Ajax asks no more: 730 
If Greece must perish, we thy will obey. 
But let us perish in the face of day ! ' 
With tears the Heio spoke, and at his 

prayer 
The God relenting, clear'd the clouded air; 
Forth burst the sun with all-enlight'ning 

ray; 
The blaze of armour flash'd against the day. 
* Now, now, Atrides ! cast around thy 

sight, 
If yet Antilochus survives the fight, 
Let him to great Achilles' ear convey 739 
The fatal news.' Atrides hastes away. 

So turns the lion from the nightly fold, 
Tho' high in courage, and with hunger 

bold, 
Long gall'd by herdsmen, and long vex'd 

by hounds, 
Stiff with fatigue, and fretted sore with 

wounds; 
The darts fly round him from a hundred 

hands, 
And the red terrors of the blazing brands: 
Till late, reluctant, at the dawn of day 
Sour he departs, and quits th' untasted 

prey. 
So mov'd Atrides from his dangerous place, 
With weary limbs, but with unwilling 

pace; 750 



The foe, he fear'd, might yet Patroclus 

gain. 
And much admonish'd, much adjur'd his 

train : 
* Oh, guard these relics to your charge 

consign'd. 
And bear the merits of the dead in mind; 
How skill'd he was in each obliging art; 
The mildest manners, and the gentlest 

heart: 
He was, alas ! but Fate decreed his end, 
In death a hero, as in life a friend ! ' 

So parts the Chief, from rank to rank he 

flew. 
And round on all sides sent his piercing 

view. 760 

As the bold bird, endued with sharpest 

eye 
Of all that wing the mid aerial sky. 
The sacred eagle, from his walks above 
Looks down, and sees the distant thicket 

move ; 
Then stoops, and sousing on the quiv'ring 

hare, 
Snatches his life amid the clouds of air: 
Not with less quickness his exerted sight 
Pass'd this and that way, thro' the ranks of 

fight; 
Till on the left the Chief he sought, he 

found. 
Cheering his men, and spreading deaths 

around. 770 

To him the King: 'Belov'd of Jove! 

draw near, 
For sadder tidings never touch'd thy ear. 
Thy eyes have witness'd what a fatal turn ! 
How Ilion triumphs, and th' Achaians 

mourn. 
This is not all: Patroclus, on the shore 
Now pale and dead, shall succour Greece 

no more. 
Fly to the fleet, this instant fly, and tell 
The sad Achilles how his lov'd one fell: 
He too may haste the naked corse to gain; 
The arms are Hector's, who despoil'd the 

slain.' 780 

The youthful warrior heard with silent 

woe. 
From his fair eyes the tears began to flow; 
Big with the mighty grief, he strove to say 
What sorrow dictates, but no word found 

way. 
To brave Laodocus his arms he flung, 
Who, near him wheeling, drove his steeds 

along; 



460 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Then ran, the mournful message to impart, 

With tearful eyes, and with dejected heart. 

Swift fled the youth: nor Menelaiis 

stands 
(Tho' sore distress'd) to aid the Pylian 

bands ; 790 

But bids bold Thrasymede those troops 

sustain; 
Himself returns to his Patroclns slain. 

* Gone is Antiloehus ' (the hero said), 
' But hope not, warriors, for Achilles' aid: 
Tho' fierce his rage, unbounded be his 

woe, 
Unarm'd he fights not with the Trojan 

foe. 
'T is in our hands alone our hopes remain, 
'T is our own vigour must the dead regain; 
And save ourselves, while with impetuous 

hate 
Troy pours along, and this way rolls our 

fate.' 800 

* ' T is well ' (said Ajax) ; * be it then thy 

care, 
With Merion's aid, the weighty corse to 

rear; 
Myself and my bold brother will sustain 
The shock of Hector and his charging 

train: 
Nor fear we armies, fighting side by side; 
What Troy can dare, we have already 

tried. 
Have tried it, and have stood.* The hero 

said: 
High from the ground the warriors heave 

the dead. 
A gen'ral clamour rises at the sight: 
Loud shout the Trojans, and renew the 

fight; 810 

Not fiercer rush along the gloomy wood. 
With rage insatiate, and with thirst of 

blood, 
Voracious hounds, that many a length be- 
fore 
Their furious hunters, drive the wounded 

boar; 
But if the savage turns his glaring eye, 
They howl aloof, and round the forest fly. 
Thus on retreating Greece the Trojans 

pour. 
Wave their thick falchions, and their jav'- 

lins shower: 
But, Ajax turning, to their fears they 

yield. 
All pale they tremble, and forsake the 

field. 820 



While thus aloft the hero's corse they 
bear. 

Behind them rages all the storm of war; 

Confusion, tumult, horror, o'er the throng 

Of men, steeds, chariots, urged the rout 
along: 

Less fierce the winds with rising flames 
conspire, 

To whelm some city under waves of fire; 

Now sink in gloomy clouds the proud 
abodes ; 

Now crack the blazing temples of the Gods; 

The rumbling torrent thro' the ruin rolls. 

And sheets of smoke mount heavy to the 
poles. 830 

The heroes sweat beneath their honour'd 
load: 

As when two mules, along the rugged road, 

From the steep mountain with exerted 
strength 

Drag some vast beam, or mast's unwieldly 
length ; 

Inly they groan, big drops of sweat distil, 

Th' enormous timber lumb'ring down the 
hill; 

So these: Behind, the bulk of Ajax stands, 

And breaks the torrent of the rushing 
bands. 

Thus when a river, swell'd with sudden 
rains. 

Spreads his broad waters o'er the level 
plains, 840 

Some interposing hill the stream divides, 

And breaks its force, and turns the wind- 
ing tides. 

Still close they follow, close the rear en- 
gage; 

^neas storms, and Hector foams with rage: 

While Greece a heavy thick retreat main- 
tains, 

Wedg'd in one body, like a flight of cranes, 

That shriek incessant while the falcon, hung 

High on pois'd pinions, threats their callow 
young. 

So from the Trojan Chiefs the Grecians 
fly, ^ 849 

Such the wild terror, and the mingled cry; 

Within, without the trench, and all the 
way, 

Strew'd in bright heaps, their arms and 
armour lay; 

Such horror Jove impress'd ! yet still pro- 
ceeds 

The work of death, and still the battle 
bleeds. 



THE ILIAD 



461 



BOOK XVIII 

THE GRIEF OF ACHILLES, AND NEW AR- 
MOUR MADE HIM BY VULCAN 

THE ARGUMENT 

The news of the death of Patroclus is hroug-ht 
to Achilles by Antilochus. Thetis, liearing- 
his lamentations, comes with all her sea- 
nymphs to comfort him. The speeches of 
the mother and son on this occasion. Iris 
appears to Achilles by the command of Juno, 
and orders him to show himself at the head 
of the intrenchments. The sight of him 
turns the fortune of the day, and the body 
of Patroclus is carried off by the Greeks. 
The Trojans call a council, where Hector 
and Polydamas disagree in their opinions ; 
but the advice of the former prevails, to re- 
main encamped in the field. The grief of 
Achilles over the body of Patroclus. 

Thetis goes to the palace of Vulcan, to obtain 
new arms for her sou. The description of 
the wonderful works of Vulcan ; and, lastly, 
that noble one of the shield of Achilles. 

The latter part of the nine-and-twentieth day, 
and the night ensuing, take up this book. 
The scene is at Achilles' tent on the sea- 
shore, from whence it changes to the palace 
of Vulcan. 

Thus like the rage of fire the combat 
burns, 

And now it rises, now it sinks, by turns. 

Meanwhile, where Hellespont's broad 
waters flow, 

Stood Nestor's son, the messenger of woe. 

There sat Achilles, shaded by his sails, 

On hoisted yards extended to the gales; 

Pensive he sat; for all that Fate design'd 

Rose in sad prospect to his boding mind. 

Thus to his soul he said: 'Ah what con- 
strains 

The Greeks, late victors, now to quit the 
plains ? 10 

Is this the day, which Heav'n so long ago 

Ordain'd, to sink me with the weight of woe 

(So Thetis warn'd), when, by a Trojan 
hand, 

The bravest of the Mvrmidonian band 

Should lose the light ? FulfiU'd is that de- 
cree ? 

Fall'n is the warrior, and Patroclus he ? 

In vain I charged him soon to quit the 
plain. 

And warn'd to shun Hectorean force in 
vain ! ' 



Thus while he thinks, Antilochus ap- 
pears. 
And tells the melancholy tale with tears: 20 
* Sad tidings, son of Peleus ! thou must 

hear; 
And wretched I, th' unwilling messenger I 
Dead is Patroclus ! for his corse they 

fight; 
His naked corse: his arms are Hector's 

right.' 
A sudden horror shot thro' all the Chief, 
And wrapt his senses in the cloud of grief; 
Cast on the ground, with furious hand he 

spread 
The scorching ashes o'er his graceful head; 
His purple garments, and his golden hairs, 
Those he deforms with dust, and these he 

tears : 30 

On the hard soil his groaning breast he 

threw, 
And roll'd and grovell'd, as to earth he 

grew. 
The virgin captives, witli disorder'd charms 
(Won by his own, or by Patroclus' arms), 
Rush'd from the tents with cries; and, 

gath'ring round. 
Beat their white breasts, and fainted on the 

ground: 
While Nestor's son sustains a manlier part. 
And mourns the warrior with a warrior's 

heart; 
Hangs on his arms, amidst his frantic woe. 
And oft prevents the meditated blow. 40 

Far in the deep abysses of the main, 
With hoary Nereus, and the wat'ry train. 
The Mother-Goddess from her crystal 

throne 
Heard his loud cries, and answered groau 

for groan. 
The circling Nereids with their mistress 

weep, 
And all the sea-green Sisters of the Deep. 
Thalia, Glance (every wat'ry name), 
Nesaea mild, and silver Spio came: 
Cymothoe and Cymodoce were nigh. 
And the blue languish of soft Alia's eye: 50 
Tiieir locks Actfea and Limnoria rear, 
Then Proto, Doris, Panope appear, 
Thoa, Pherusa, Doto, Melita; 
Agave gentle, and Amphithoe gay; 
Next Callianira, Callianassa shew 
Their sister looks; Dexamene the slow, 
And swift Dynamene, now cut the tides: 
I?era now the verdant wave divides: 
Nemertes with Apseudes lifts the head, 



462 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Bright Galatea quits her pearly bed; 60 

These Orythia, Clymene, attend, 

Msera, Amphinome, the train extend, 

And black Janira, and Janassa fair. 

And Amatheia with her amber hair. 

All these, and all that deep in ocean held 

Their sacred seats, the glimm'ring grotto 
fill'd; 

Each beat her iv'ry breast with silent woe. 

Till Thetis' sorrows thus began to flow: 
' Hear me, and judge, ye Sisters of the 
Main ! 

How just a cause has Thetis to com- 
plain ! 70 

How wretched, were 1 mortal, were my 
fate ! 

How more than wretched in th' immortal 
state ! 

Sprung from my bed a godlike Hero came. 

The bravest far that ever bore the name; 

Like some fair olive, by my careful hand 

He grew, he flourish'd, and adorn'd the 
land. 

To Troy I sent him ; but the Fates ordain 

He never, never must return again. 

So short a space the light of Heav'n to 
view. 

So short, alas ! and fill'd with anguish 
too. 80 

Hear how his sorrows echo thro' the shore ! 

I cannot ease them, but I must deplore ; 

I go at least to bear a tender part, 

And mourn my lov'd one with a mother's 
heart.' 
She said, and left the caverns of the 
main. 

All bathed in tears, the melancholy train 

Attend her way. Wide-opening part the 
tides, 

While the long pomp the silver wave 
divides, 

Approaching now, they touch'd the Trojan 
land ; 

Then, two by two, ascended up the strand. 

Th' immortal mother, standing close be- 
side 91 

Her mournful offspring, to his sighs re- 
plied; 

Along the coast their mingled clamours 
ran. 

And thus the Silver-footed Dame began: 
* Why mourns my son ? thy late-pre- 
ferr'd request 

The God has granted, and the Greeks dis- 
tress'd: 



Why mourns my son ? thy anguish let me 

share, 
Reveal the cause, and trust a parent's 

care.' 
He, deeply groaning, ' To this cureless 

grief 
Not ev'n the Thund'rer's favour brings re- 
lief. 100 
Patroclus — Ah ! say. Goddess, can I 

boast 
A pleasure now ? Revenge itself is lost; 
Patroclus, lov'd of all my martial train, 
Beyond mankind, beyond myself, is slain ! 
Lost are those arms the Gods themselves 

bestow'd 
On Peleus; Hector bears the glorious load. 
Curs'd be that day, when all the powers 

above 
Thy charms submitted to a mortal love: 
Oh hadst thou still, a sister of the main. 
Pursued the pleasures of the wat'ry reign; 
And happier Peleus, less ambitious, led m 
A mortal beauty to his equal bed ! 
Ere the sad fruit of thy unhappy womb 
Had caus'd such sorrows past, and woes to 

come. 
For soon, alas ! that wretched offspring 

slain, 
New woes, new sorrows, shall create again. 
'T is not in Fate th' alternate now to give; 
Patroclus dead, Achilles hates to live. 
Let me revenge it on proud Hector's heart, 
Let his last spirit smoke upon my dart; 120 
On these conditions will I breathe: till 

then, 
I blush to walk among the race of men.' 
A flood of tears, at this, the Goddess 

shed : 
* Ah then, I see thee dying, see thee dead ! 
When Hector falls, thou diest.' — ' Let 

Hector die, 
And let me fall ! ' (Achilles made reply.) 
' Far lies Patroclus from his native plain; 
He fell, and, falling, wisli'd my aid in 

vain. 
Ah then, since from this miserable day 
I cast all hope of my return away; 130 

Since, unrevenged, a hundred ghosts de- 
mand 
The fate of Hector from Achilles' hand; 
Since here, for brutal courage far re- 

nown'd, 
I live an idle burden to the ground 
(Others in council famed for nobler skill. 
More useful to preserve than 1 to kill) ; 



THE ILIAD 



463 



Let me — But oh ! ye gracious Powers 

above ! 
Wrath and revenge from men and Gods 

remove : 
Far, far too dear to ev'ry mortal breast, 
Sweet to the soul, as honey to the taste; 140 
Gath'ring like vapours of a noxious kind 
From fiery blood, and dark'ning all the 

mind. 
Me Agamemnon urged to deadly hate; 
'T is past — I quell it; I resign to Fate. 
Yes — I will meet the murd'rer of my 

friend, 
Or (if the Gods ordain it) meet my end. 
The stroke of Fate the bravest cannot shun: 
The great Aloides, Jove's unequall'd son, 
To Juno's hate at length resiffu'd his 

breath, 
And sunk the victim of all-conquering 

death, 150 

So shall Achilles fall ! stretch'd pale and 

dead. 
No more the Grecian hope, or Trojan 

dread ! 
Let me, this instant, rush into the fields. 
And reap what glory life's short harvest 

yields. 
Shall I not force some widow'd dame to 

tear. 
With frantic hands, her long dishevell'd 

hair ? 
Shall I not force her breast to heave with 

sighs, 
And the soft tears to trickle from her 

eyes ? 
Yes, I shall give the fair those mournful 

charms — 
In vain you hold me — Hence ! my arms, 

my arms ! 160 

Soon shall the sanguine torrent spread so 

wide. 
That all shall know Achilles swells the tide.' 

' My son ' (ccerulean Thetis made reply, 
To Fate submitting with a secret sigh), 
' The host to succour and thy friends to save. 
Is worthy thee; the duty of the brave. 
But canst thou, naked, issue to the plains ? 
Thy radiant arms the Trojan foe detains. 
Insulting Hector bears the spoils on high. 
But vainly glories, for his fate is nigh. 170 
Yet, yet, awhile, thy gen'rous ardour stay. 
Assured I meet thee at the dawn of day, 
Charged with refulgent arms (a glorious 

load), 
Vulcanian arms, the labour of a God.' 



Then turninor to the Daughters of the 
Main, 
The Goddess thus dismiss'd her azure train: 
* Ye sister Nereids ! to your deeps de- 
scend; 
Haste, and our father's sacred seat attend; 
I go to find the architect divine. 
Where vast Olympus' starry summits 
shine : 180 

So tell our hoary Sire.' This charge she 

gave : 
The sea-green Sisters plunge beneath the 

wave: 
Thetis once more ascends the blest abodes, 
And treads the brazen threshold of the 
Gods. 
And now the Greeks, from furious Hec- 
tor's force. 
Urge to broad Hellespont their headlong 

course : 
Nor yet their Chiefs Patroclus' body bore 
Safe thro' the tempest, to the tented shore. 
The horse, the foot, with equal fury join'd, 
Four'd on the rear, and thunder'd close be- 
hind; 190 
And like a fiarae thro' fields of ripen'd corn. 
The rage of Hector o'er the ranks was 

borne. 
Thrice the slain hero by the foot he drew: 
Thrice to the skies the Trojan clamours 

flew 
As oft th' Ajaces his assault sustain; 
But check'd, he turns; repuls'd, attacks 

again. 
With fiercer shouts his ling'ring troops he 

fires, 
Nor yields a step, nor from his post re- 
tires: 
So watchful shepherds strive to force, in 

vain. 
The hungry Hon from a carcass slain. 200 
Ev'n yet, Patroclus had he borne away, 
And all the glories of th' extended day; 
Had not high Juno, from the realms of air, 
Secret despatch'd her trusty messenger. 
The various Goddess of the Showery Bow, 
Shot in a whirlwind to the shore below; 
To great Achilles at his ships she came, 
And thus began the Many-coloured Dame: 
' Rise, son of Peleus ! rise, divinely brave! 
Assist the combat, and Patroclus save: 210 
For him the slaughter to the fleet they 

spread. 
And fall with mutual wounds around the 
dead. 



464 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



To drag him back to Troy the foe con- 
tends; 
Nor with his death the rage of Hector 

ends ; 
A prey to dogs he dooms the corse to lie, 
And marks the place to fix his head on 

high. 
Rise, and prevent (if yet you think of fame) 
Thy friend's disgrace; thy own eternal 

shame ! ' 
' Who sends thee, Goddess ! from th' 

ethereal skies ? ' 
Achilles thus: and Iris thus replies: 220 
* I come, Pelides, from the Queen of Jove, 
Th' immortal Empress of the realms above: 
Unknown to him who sits remote on high, 
Unknown to all the Synod of the Sky.' 
* Thou com'st in vain,' he cries (with fury 

warm'd), 
*Arms I have none, and can I fight un- 
arm' d ? 
Unwilling as I am, of force I stay. 
Till Thetis bring me at the dawn of day 
Vulcanian arms: what other can I wield. 
Except the mighty Telamonian shield ? 230 
That, in my friend's defence, has Ajax 

spread. 
While his strong lance around him heaps 

the dead: 
The gallant Chief defends Mencetius' son. 
And does what his Achilles should have 

done.' 
' Thy want of arms' (said Iris) * well we 

know ; 
But, tho' unarm'd, yet, clad in terrors, go ! 
Let but Achilles o'er yon trench appear, 
Proud Troy shall tremble, and consent to 

fear; 
Greece from one glance of that tremendous 

eye 239 

Shall take new courage, and disdain to fly.' 

She spoke, and pass'd in air. The hero 

rose: 
Her segis Pallas o'er his shoulder throws: 
Around his brows a golden cloud she spread ; 
A stream of glory flamed above his head. 
As when from some beleaguer'd town arise 
The smokes, high curling to the shaded 

skies 
(Seen from some island, o'er the main afar, 
When men distress'd hang out the sign of 

war): 
Soon as the sun in ocean hides his rays, 
Thick on the hills the flaming beacons 

blaze; 250 



With long-projected beams the seas are 

bright. 
And Heav'n's high arch reflects the ruddy 

light: 
So from Achilles' head the splendours rise. 
Reflecting blaze on blaze, against the skies. 
Forth march'd the Chief, and, distant from 

the crowd. 
High on the rampart rais'd his voice aloud; 
With her own shout Minerva swells the 

sound ; 
Troy starts astonish'd, and the shores re- 
bound. 
As the loud trumpet's brazen mouth from far 
Wich shrilling clangour sounds th' alarm 

of war, 260 

Struck from the walls, the echoes float on 

high. 
And the round bulwarks and thick towers 

reply; 
So high his brazen voice the hero rear'd.* 
Hosts dropt their arms, and trembled as 

they heard; 
And back the chariots roll, and coursers 

bound. 
And steeds and men lie mingled on the 

ground. 
Aghast they see the living lightnings play, 
And turn their eye-balls from the flashing 

ray. 
Thrice from the trench his dreadful voice 

he raised: 
And thrice they fled, confounded and 

amazed. 270 

Twelve in the tumult wedg'd, untimely 

rush'd 
On their own spears, by their own chariots 

crush'd ; 
While, shielded from the darts, the Greeks 

obtain 
The long-contended carcass of the slain. 

A lofty bier the breathless warrior bears: 
Around, his sad companions melt in tears. 
But chief Achilles, bending down his head, 
Pours unavailing sorrows o'er the dead. 
Whom late, triumphant with his steeds and 

car. 
He sent refulgent to the Field of War 280 
(Unhappy change !): now senseless, pale, 

he found, 
Stretch'd forth, and gash'd with many a 

gaping wound. 
Meantime, unwearied with his heav'nly 

way. 
In ocean's waves th' unwilling light of day 



THE ILIAD 



465 



Quench'd his red orb, at Juno's high com- 
mand, 
And from their labours eas'd th' Achaian 

band. 
The frighted Trojans (panting from the 

war, 
Their steeds unharness'd from the weary 

car) 
A sudden council call'd : each Chief ap- 

pear'd 
In haste, and standing ; for to sit they 

fear'd. 290 

'T was now no season for prolong'd debate; 
They saw Achilles, and in him their fate. 
Silent they stood: Polydamas at last, 
Skill'd to discern the future by the past. 
The son of Panthus, thus express'd his 

fears 
(The friend of Hector, and of equal years: 
The self-same night to both a being gave, 
One wise in council, one in action brave): 
* In free debate, my friends, your sen- 
tence speak: 
For me, I move, before the morning 

break, 300 

To raise our camp: too dangerous here our 

post, 
Far from Troy walls, and on a naked coast. 
I deem'd not Greece so dreadful, while 

engaged 
In mutual feuds her Kinof and Hero rasced: 
Then, while we hoped our armies might pre- 
vail. 
We boldly camp'd beside a thousand sail. 
I dread Pelides now: his rage of mind 
Not long continues to the shores confin'd. 
Nor to the fields, where long in equal fray 
Contending nations won and lost the 

day; 310 

For Troy, for Troy, shall henceforth be the 

strife. 
And the hard contest, not for Fame, but 

Life. 
Haste then to Ilion, while the fav'ring night 
Detains those terrors, keeps that arm from 

fight; 
If but the morrow's sun behold us here, 
That arm, those terrors, we shall feel, not 

fear; 
And hearts that now disdain, shall leap 

with joy, 
If Heav'n permits them then to enter 

Troy. 
Let not my fatal prophecy be true. 
Nor what I tremble but to think, ensue. 320 



Whatever be our fate, yet let us try 
What force of thought and reason can sup- 
ply; 
Let us on council for our guard depend; 

The town, her gates and bulwarks shall 

defend. 
When morning dawns, our well-appointed 

powers, 
Array'd in arms, shall line the lofty towers. 
Let the fierce hero then, when fury calls, 
Vent his mad vengeance on our rocky walls, 
Or fetch a thousand circles round the plain. 
Till his spent coursers seek the fleet 

again: 330 

So may his rage be tired, and labour'd 

down ; 
And dogs shall tear him ere he sack the 

town.' 
' Return ? ' (said Hector, fired with stern 

disdain), 
* What ! coop whole armies in our walls 

again ? 
Was 't not enough, ye valiant warriors say, 
Nine years imprison'd in those towers ye 

lay ? 
Wide o'er the world was Ilion famed of 

old 
For brass exhaustless, and for mines of 

gold; 
But while inglorious in her walls we stay'd. 
Sunk were her treasures, and her stores 

decay 'd; 34Q 

The Phrygians now her scatter'd spoils 

enjoy. 
And proud Maeonia wastes the fruits of 

Troy. 
Great Jove at length ray arms to conquest 

calls. 
And shuts the Grecians in their wooden 

walls: 
Darest thou dispirit whom the Gods in- 
cite ? 
Flies any Trojan ? I shall stop his flight. 
To better counsel then attention lend; 
Take due refreshment, and the watch at- 
tend. 
If there be one whose riches cost him care, 
Forth let him bring them for the troops to 

share; 350 

'T is better gen'rously bestow'd on those. 
Than left the plunder of our country's foes. 
Soon as the morn the purple orient warms, 
Fierce on yon navy will we pour our arms. 
If great Achilles rise in all his might. 
His be the danger: I shall stand the fight. 



466 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Honour, ye Gods ! or let me gain, or give; 

And live he glorious, whosoe'er shall live ! 

Mars is our common Lord, alike to all: 

And oft the victor triumphs, but to fall.' 360 
The shouting host in loud applauses 
join'd: 

So Pallas robb'd the many of their mind; 

To their own sense condemn'd, and left to 
choose 

The worst advice, the better to refuse. 
While the long night extends her sable 
reign, 

Around Patroclus mourn'd the Grecian 
train. 

Stern in superior grief Pelides stood; 

Those slaught'ring arms, so used to bathe 
in blood. 

Now clasp his clay-cold limbs: then, gush- 
ing, start 

The tears, and sighs burst from his swelling 
heart. 370 

The lion thus, with dreadful anguish stung. 

Roars thro' the desert, and demands his 
young; 

When the grim savage, to his rifled den 

Too late returning, snuffs the track of men, 

And o'er the vales and o'er the forest 
bounds; 

His elam'rous grief the bell'wing wood re- 
sounds. 

So grieves Achilles; and impetuous vents 

To all his Myrmidons, his loud laments: 
* In what vain promise, Gods ! did I en- 
gage. 

When, to console Mencetius' feeble age, 380 

I vow'd his much-lov'd offspring to restore. 

Charged with rich spoils, to fair Opuntia's 
shore ? 

But mighty Jove cuts short, with just dis- 
dain. 

The long, long views of poor designing man ! 

One fate the warrior and the friend shall 
strike, 

And Troy's black sands must drink our 
blood alike: 

Me, too, a wretched mother shall deplore. 

An aged father never see me more ! 

Yet, my Patroclus ! yet a space I stay. 

Then swift pursue thee on the darksome 
way. 390 

Ere thy dear relics in the grave are laid, 

Shall Hector's head be offer'd to thy shade: 

That, with his arms, shall hang before 
thy shrine; 

And twelve, the noblest of the Trojan line. 



Sacred to vengeance, by this hand expire, 
Their lives eft'used around thy flaming pyre. 
Thus let me lie till then ! thus, closely 

press'd, 
Bathe thy cold face, and sob upon thy 

breast ! 
While Trojan captives here thy mourners 

stay. 
Weep all the night, and murmur all the 

day, 400 

Spoils of my arms, and thine ; when, wast- 
ing wide. 
Our swords kept time, and conquer'd side 

by side.' 
He spoke, and bid the sad attendants 

round 
Cleanse the pale corse, and wash each 

honour'd wound. 
A massy cauldron of stupendous frame 
They brought, and placed it o'er the rising 

flame; 
Then heap the lighted wood; the flame 

divides 
Beneath the vase, and climbs around the 

sides. 
In its wide womb they pour the rushing 

stream ; 
The boiling water bubbles to the brim. 410 
The body then they bathe with pious toil. 
Embalm the wounds, anoint the limbs with 

oil; 
High on a bed of state extended laid. 
And decent cover'd with a linen shade ; 
Last o'er the dead the milk-white veil they 

threw; 
That done, their sorrows and their sighs 

renew. 
Meanwhile to Juno, in the realms above 
(His wife and sister) spoke almighty Jove: 
'At last thy will prevails: great Peleus' 

son 
Rises in arms: such grace thy Greeks have 

won. 420 

Say (for I know not), is their race divine. 
And thou the mother of that martial line ? ' 
' What words are these ? ' (th' Imperial 

Dame replies. 
While anger flash'd from her majestic 

eyes); 
'Succour like this a mortal arm might 

lend, 
And such success mere human wit attend: 
And shall not I, the second Power above, 
Heav'n's Queen, and Consort of the thun- 

d'ring Jove, 



THE ILIAD 



467 



Say, shall not I one nation's fate command, 
Not wreak my vengeance on one guilty 

land ? ' 430 

So they. Meanwhile the Silver-footed 

Dame 
Reach'd the Vulcanian dome, eternal frame ! 
High-eminent amid the works divine, 
Where Heav'n's far-beaming brazen man- 
sions shine. 
There the lame architect the Goddess 

found. 
Obscure in smoke, his forges flaming round. 
While bathed in sweat from fire to fire he 

flew. 
And, puffing loud, the roaring bellows 

blew. 
That day no common task his labour 

claim'd: 
Full twenty tripods for his hall he 

framed, ' 440 

That, placed on living wheels of massy 

gold 
(Wondrous to tell) ! instinct with spirit 

roll'd 
From place to place, around the blest 

abodes, 
Self-mov'd, obedient to the beck of Gods: 
For their fair handles now, o'erwronght 

with flowers, 
In moulds prepared, the glowing ore he 

pours. 
Just as, responsive to his thought, the 

frame 
Stood prompt to move, the azure Goddess 

came: 
Charis, his spouse, a Grace divinely fair 
(With purple fillets round her braided 

hair), 450 

Observ'd her ent'ring; her soft hand she 

press'd, 
And, smiling, thus the wat'ry Queen ad- 

dress'd: 
'What, Goddess! this unusual favour 

draws ? 
All hail, and welcome! whatsoe'er the 

cause : 
Till now a stranger, in a happy hour 
Approach, and taste the dainties of the 

bower.' 
High on a throne, with stars of silver 

graced. 
And various artifice, the Queen she placed; 
A footstool at her feet: then, calling, said, 
* Vulcan, draw near, 't is Thetis asks your 

aid.' 460 



' Thetis ' (replied the God) * our powers 

may claim. 
An ever-dear, an ever-honour'd name! 
When my proud mother hurl'd me from 

the sky 
(My awkward form, it seems, displeas'd 

her eye). 
She, and Eurynome, my griefs redress'd. 
And soft receiv'd nie on their silver breast. 
Ev'n then, these arts employ'd my infant 

thought; 
Chains, bracelets, pendants, all their toys 

I wrought. 468 

Nine years kept secret in the dark abode. 
Secure I lay, conceal'd from man and God: 
Deep in a cavern'd rock my days were led; 
Tiie rushing ocean murmur'd o'er my head. 
Now since her presence glads our mansion, 

say. 
For such desert what service can I pay ? 
Vouchsafe, O Thetis! at our board to share 
The genial rites, and hospitable fare; 
While I the labours of the forge forego, 
And bid the roaring bellows cease to blow.' 
Then from his anvil the lame artist rose; 
Wide with distorted legs oblique he goes, 
And stills the bellows, and (in order laid) 
Locks in their chests his instruments of 

trade : 482 

Then with a sponge the sooty workman 

dress'd 
His brawny arms imbrown'd, and hairy 

breast. 
With his huge sceptre graced, and red at- 
tire. 
Came halting forth the Sov'reign of the 

Fire: 
The Monarch's steps two female forms 

uphold, 
That mov'd, and breathed, in animated 

gold ; 
To whom was voice, and sense, and science 

giv'n 
Of works divine (such wonders are in 

Heav'n!): 490 

On these supported, with unequal gait. 
He reach'd the throne where pensive The- 
tis sat; 
There placed beside her on the shining 

frame, 
He thus address'd the Silver-footed Dame: 
' Thee, welcome Goddess! what occasion 

calls 
(So long a stranger) to these honour'd 

walls ? 



468 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



'T is thine, fair Thetis, the command to lay, 
And Vulcan's joy and duty to obey.' 

To whom the mournful mother thus re- 
plies 
(The crystal drops stood trembling in her 

eyes) : 500 

*0h Vulcan! say, was ever breast divine 
So pierc'd with sorrows, so o'erwhelm'd as 

mine ? 
Of all the Goddesses, did Jove prepare 
For Thetis only such a weight of care ? 
I, only I, of all the wat'ry race, 
By force subjected to a man's embrace, 
Who, sinking now with age and sorrow, 

pays 
The mighty fine imposed on length of days. 
Sprung from my bed, a godlike Hero came. 
The bravest sure that ever bore the name; 
Like some fair plant, beneath my careful 

hand, 511 

He grew, he fiourish'd, and he graced the 

land: 
To Troy I sent him; but his native shore 
Never, ah never, shall receive him more ! 
Ev'n while he lives, he wastes with secret 

woe, 
Nor I, a Goddess, can retard the blow! 
Robb'd of the prize the Grecian suffrage 

gave. 
The King of Nations forc'd his royal slave: 
For this he griev'd; and, till the Greeks 

oppress'd 519 

Required his arm, he sorrow'd unredress'd. 
Large gifts they promise, and their elders 

send; 
In vain — he arms not, but permits his 

friend 
His arms, his steeds, his forces, to employ; 
He marches, combats, almost conquers 

Troy: 
Then slain by Phcebus (Hector had the 

name). 
At once resigns his armour, life, and fame. 
But thou, in pity, by my prayer be won ; 
Grace with immortal arms this short-lived 

son, 
And to the field in martial pomp restore, 
To shine with glory, till he shines no 

more! ' 530 

To her the Artist-God: 'Thy griefs re- 
sign, 
Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine. 
O could I hide him from the Fates as well, 
Or with these hands the cruel stroke 

repel, 



As I shall forge most envied arms, the 

gaze 
Of wond'ring ages, and the world's amaze! ' 
Thus having said, the Father of the Fires 
To the black labours of his forge retires. 
Soon as he bade them blow, the bellows 

turn'd 
Their iron mouths, and, where the furnace 

burn'd, 540 

Resounding breathed: at once the blast 

expires. 
And twenty forges catch at once the fires; 
Just as the God directs, now loud, now 

low, 
They raise a tempest, or they gently blow. 
In hissing flames huge silver bars are roll'd. 
And stubborn brass, and tin, and solid 

gold: 
Before, deep fix'd, th' eternal anvils stand; 
The pond'rous hammer loads his better 

hand, 
His left with tongs turns the vex'd metal 

round; 
And thick strong strokes the doubling 

vaults rebound, 550 

Then first he form'd th' immense and 

solid shield; 
Rich various artifice emblazed the field; 
Its utmost verge a threefold circle bound; 
A silver chain suspends the massy round: 
Five ample plates the broad expanse com- 
pose. 
And godlike labours on the surface rose. 
There shone the image of the master-mind: 
There Earth, there Heav'n, there Ocean, 

he design 'd; 
Th' unwearied sun, the moon completely 

round; 
The starry lights that Heav'n's high convex 

crown'd; 560 

The Pleiads, Hyads, with the Northern 

Team; 
And great Orion's more refulgent beam; 
To which, around the axle of the sky, 
The Bear revolving points his golden eye; 
Still shines exalted on th' ethereal plain. 
Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the 

main. 
Two cities radiant on the shield appear. 
The image one of peace, and one of war. 
Here sacred pomp and genial feast delight. 
And solemn dance, and Hymeneal rite; 570 
Along the street the new-made brides are 

led, 
With torches flaming, to the nuptial bed: 



THE ILIAD 



469 



The youthful dancers in a circle bound 
To the soft flute, and cittern's silver sound: 
Thro' the fair streets, the matrons in a row 
Stand in their porches, and enjoy the show- 
There, in the Forum swarm a numerous 

train ; 
The subject of debate, a townsman slain: 
One pleads the fine discharged, which one 

denied, 579 

And bade the public and the laws decide: 
The witness is produced on either hand: 
For this, or that, the partial people stand: 
Th' appointed heralds still the noisy bands, 
And form a ring, with sceptres in their 

hands ; 
On seats of stone, within the sacred place. 
The rev'rend elders nodded o'er the case; 
Alternate, each th' attending sceptre took, 
And, rising solemn, each his sentence spoke. 
Two golden talents lay amidst, in sight, 
The prize of him who best adjudg'd the 

right. ^ ^ 590 

Another part (a prospect diff'ring far) 
Glow'd with refulgent arms, and horrid 

war. 
Two mighty hosts a leaguer'd town em- 
brace. 
And one would pillage, one would burn, 

the place. 
Meantime the townsmen, arm'd with silent 

care, 
A secret ambush on the foe prepare: 
Their wives, their children, and the watch- 
ful band 
Of trembling parents, on the turrets stand. 
They march, by Pallas and by Mars made 

bold; 
Gold were the Gods, their radiant garments 

gold, 600 

And gold their armour; these the squadron 

led, 
August, divine, superior by the head! 
A place for ambush fit they found, and 

stood 
Cover'd with shields, beside a silver flood. 
Two spies at distance lurk, and watchful 

seem 
If sheep or oxen seek the winding stream. 
Soon the white flocks proceeded o'er the 

plains, 
And steers slow-moving, and two shepherd 

swains; 
Behind them, piping on their reeds, they 

go, 
Nor fear an ambush, nor suspect a foe. 610 



In arms the glitt'ring squadron rising 

round, 
Kush sudden; hills of slaughter heap the 

ground:' 
Whole flocks and herds lie bleeding on the 

plains, 
And, all amidst them, dead, the shepherd 

swains! 
The bell' wing oxen the besiegers hear; 
They rise, take horse, approach, and meet 

the war; 
They fight, they fall, beside the silver flood ; 
The waving silver seem'd to blush with 

blood. 
There tumult, there contention, stood con- 

fess'd; 619 

One rear'd a dagger at a captive's breast, 
One held a living foe, that freshly bled 
With new-made wounds; another dragg'd 

a dead; 
Now here, now there, the carcasses they 

tore: 
Fate stalk'd amidst them, grim with hu- 
man gore. 
And the whole war came out, and met the 

eye: 
And each bold figure seem'd to live, or die. 
A field deep furrow'd next the God de- 
sign 'd. 
The third time labour'd by the sweating 

hind; 
The shining shares full many ploughmen 

guide. 
And turn their crooked yokes on ev'ry 

side. 630 

Still as at either end they wheel around. 
The master meets them with his goblet 

crown'd; 
The hearty draught rewards, renews their 

toil; 
Then back the turning ploughshares cleave 

the soil: 
Behind, the rising earth in ridges roll'd. 
And sable look'd, tho' form'd of molten 

gold. 
Another field rose high with waving 

grain; 
With bended sickles stand the reaper-train. 
Here stretcli'd in ranks the levell'd swaths 

are found, 
Sheaves, heap'd on sheaves, here thicken 

up the ground. 640 

With sweeping stroke the mowers strew the 

lands; 
The gath'rers follow, and collect in bands; 



470 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



And last the children, in whose arms are 

borne 
(Too short to gripe them) the brown 

sheaves of corn. 
The rustic Monarch of the Field descries, 
With silent glee, the heaps around him 

rise. 
A ready banquet on the turf is laid, 
Beneath an ample oak's expanded shade. 
The victim ox the sturdy youth prepare; 649 
The reaper's due repast, the women's care. 
Next ripe, in yellow gold, a vineyard 

shines. 
Bent with the pond'rous harvest of its 

vines; 
A deeper dye the dangling clusters shew. 
And, curl'd on silver props, in order glow: 
A darker metal mix'd, intrench'd the 

place ; 
And pales of glitt'ring tin th' enclosure 

grace. 
To this, one pathway gently winding leads. 
Where march a train with baskets on their 

heads 
(Fair maids and blooming youths), that 

smiling bear 659 

The purple product of th' autumnal year. 
To these a youth awakes the warbling 

strings. 
Whose tender lay the fate of Linus sings; 
In measured dance behind him move the 

train, 
Tune soft the voice, and answer to the 

strain. 
Here, herds of oxen march, erect and 

bold, 
Kear high their horns, and seem to low in 

gold. 
And speed to meadows, on whose sounding 

shores 
A rapid torrent thro' the rushes roars: 
Four golden herdsmen as their guardians 

stand. 
And nine sour dogs complete the rustic 

band. 670 

Two lions rushing from the wood appear'd; 
And seized a bull, the master of the herd ; 
He roar'd: in vain the dogs, the men, with- 
stood ; 
They tore his flesh, and drank the sable 

blood. 
The dogs (oft cheer'd in vain) desert the 

prey, 
Dread the grim terrors, and at distance 

bay. 



Next this, the eye the art of Vulcan 

leads 
Deep thro' fair forests, and a length of 

meads; 
And stalls, and folds, and scatter'd cots 

between; 
And fleecy flocks, that whiten all the 

scene. 680 

A figured dance succeeds: such once was 

seen 
In lofty Gnossus, for the Cretan Queen, 
Form'd by Dsedalean art: A comely band 
Of youths and maidens, bounding hand in 

hand; 
The maids in soft cymars of linen dress'd; 
The youths all graceful in the glossy 

vest; 
Of those the locks with flowery wreaths 

inroird. 
Of these the sides adorn'd with swords of 

gold, 
That, glitt'ring gay, from silver belts de- 
pend. 
Now all at once they rise, at once de- 
scend, 690 
With well-taught feet: now shape, in 

oblique ways, 
Confusedly regular, the moving maze: 
Now forth at once, too swift for sight, they 

spring, 
And undistinguish'd blend the flying ring: 
So whirls a wheel, in giddy circle toss'd. 
And, rapid as it runs, the single spokes are 

lost. 
The gazing multitudes admire around; 
Two active tumblers in the centre bound; 
Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they 

bend, 699 

And gen'ral songs the sprightly revel 

end. 
Thus the broad shield complete the artist 

crown 'd 
With his last hand, and pour'd the ocean 

round : 
In living silver seem'd the waves to roll. 
And beat the buckler's verge, and bound 

the whole. 
This done, whate'er a warrior's use re- 
quires 
He forged; the cuirass that outshines the 

fires. 
The greaves of ductile tin, the helm im- 

press'd 
With various sculpture, and the golden 

crest. 



THE ILIAD 



471 



At Thetis' feet the finish' d labour lay; 
She, as a falcon, cuts th' aerial way, 710 
Swift from Olympus' snowy summit flies, 
And bears the blazing present tljro' the 
skies. 



BOOK XIX 

THE RECONCILIATION OF ACHILLES AND 
AGAMEMNON 

THE ARGUMENT 

Thetis brings to her son the armour made by 
Vulcan. kShe preserves the body of his friend 
from corruption, and commands him to as- 
semble the army, to declare his resentment 
at an end. Agamemnon and Achilles are 
solemnly reconciled : the speeches, presents, 
and ceremonies on that occasion. Achilles 
is with great difficulty persuaded to refrain 
from the battle till the troops have refreshed 
themselves, by the advice of Ulysses. The 
presents are conveyed to the tent of Achilles : 
where Briseis laments over the body of Pa- 
troelus. The hero obstinately refuses all 
repast, and gives himself up to lamenta- 
tions for his friend. Minerva descends to 
strengthen him, by the order of Jupiter. He 
arms for the fight ; his appearance described. 
He addresses himself to his horses, and re- 
proaches them with the death of Patroclus. 
One of them is miraculously endued with 
voice, and insj^ired to prophesy his fate ; but 
the hero, not astonished by that prodigy, 
rushes with fury to the combat. 

The thirtieth day. The scene is on the sea- 
shore. 

Soon as Aurora heav'd her orient head 
Above the waves that blush'd with early 

red 
(With new-born day to gladden mortal 

sight, 
And gild the courts of Heav'n with sacred 

. light), 
Th' immortal arras the Goddess-mother 

bears 
Swift to her son: her son she finds in 

tears, 
Stretch'd o'er Patroclus' corse, while all the 

rest 
Their Sov'reign's sorrows in their own ex- 

press'd. 
A ray divine her heav'nly presence shed. 
And thus, his hand soft touching, Thetis 

said: 10 



* Suppress, my son, this rage of grief, and 

know 
It was not man, but Heav'n, that gave the 

blow: 
Behold what arms by Vulcan are bestow'd, 
Arms worthy thee, or fit to grace a God.' 
Then drops the radiant burden on the 

ground ; 
Clang the strong arms, and ring the shores 

around; 
Back shrink the Myrmidons with dread 

surprise. 
And from the broad effulgence turn their 

eyes. 
Unmov'd, the hero kindles at the show. 
And feels with rage divine his bosom 

glow ; 20 

From his fierce eye-balls living flames ex- 
pire. 
And flash incessant like a stream of fire: 
He turns the radiant gift, and feeds his 

mind 
On all th' immortal artist had design'd. 
' Goddess ' (he cried), ' these glorious 

arms that shine 
With matchless art, confess the hand di- 
vine. 
Now to the bloody battle let me bend: 
But ah ! the relics of my slaughter'd 

friend ! 
In those wide wounds thro' which his 

spirit fled. 
Shall flies, and worms obscene, pollute the 

dead ? ' 30 

' That unavailing care be laid aside ' 
(The azure Goddess to her son replied) ; 
' Whole years untouch'd, uninjured shall 

remain. 
Fresh as in life, the carcass of the slain. 
But go, Achilles (as affairs require). 
Before the Grecian peers renounce thine 

ire: 
Then uncontroll'd in boundless war engage. 
And Heav'n with strength supply the 

mighty rage ! ' 
Then in the nostrils of the slain she 

pour'd 
Nectareous drops, and rich ambrosia show- 

er'd 40 

O'er all the corse: the flies forbid their 

prey, 
Untouch'd it rests, and sacred from decay. 
Achilles to the strand obedient went; 
The shores resounded with the voice he 

sent. 



472 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The heroes heard, and all the naval train 
That tend the ships, or guide them o'er the 

main, 
Alarm'd, transported, at the well-known 

sound. 
Frequent and full, the great assembly 

crown'd; 
Studious to see that terror of the plain. 
Long lost to battle, shine in arms again. 50 
Tydides and Ulysses first appear. 
Lame with their wounds, and leaning on 

the spear: 
These on the sacred seats of council placed, 
The King of Men, Atrides, came the last: 
He too sore wounded by Agenor's son. 
Achilles (rising in the midst) begun : 

*0h Monarch! better far had been the 

fate 
Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian state. 
If (ere the day when by mad passion 

sway'd, 
Rash we contended for the black-eyed 

maid) 60 

Preventing Dian had despatch'd her dart. 
And shot the shining mischief to the heart ! 
Then many a hero had not press'd the 

shore, 
Nor Troy's glad fields been fatten'd with 

our gore: 
Long, long shall Greece the woes we caus'd 

bewail, 
And sad posterity repeat the tale. 
But this, no more the subject of debate, 
Is past, forgotten, and resign 'd to Fate: 
Why should, alas ! a mortal man, as I, 
Burn with a fury that can never die ? 70 
Here then my anger ends: let war succeed, 
And ev'n as Greece hath bled, let Ilion 

bleed. 
Now call the hosts, and try, if in our sight, 
Troy yet shall dare to camp a second 

night ? 
I deem their mightiest, when this arm he 

knows, 
Shall 'scape with transport, and with joy 

repose.' 
He said; his finish'd wrath with loud 

acclaim 
The Greeks accept, and shout Pelides' 

name. 
When thus, not rising from his lofty throne. 
In state unmov'd, the King of Men begun: 
' Hear me, ye sons of Greece ! with 

silence hear ! 81 

And grant your Monarch an impartial ear: 



Awhile your loud untimely joy suspend. 
And let your rash injurious clamours end: 
Unruly murmurs, or ill-timed applause. 
Wrong the best speaker, and the justest 

cause. 
Nor charge on me, ye Greeks, the dire de- 
bate; 
Know, angry Jove, and all- compelling 

Fate, 
W^ith fell Erinnys, urged my wrath that 

day 
When from Achilles' arms I forc'd the 

prey. 90 

What then could I, against the will of 

Heav'n ? 
Not by myself, but vengeful At^ driv'n; 
She, Jove's dread daughter, fated to infest 
The race of mortals, enter'd in my breast. 
Not on the ground that haughty Fury 

treads, 
But prints her lofty footsteps on the heads 
Of mighty men; inflicting as she goes 
Long-fest'ring wounds, inextricable woes ! 
Of old, she stalk'd amidst the bright 

abodes; 
And Jove himself, the sire of men and 

Gods, 100 

The world's great rnler, felt her venom'd 

dart; 
Deceiv'd by Juno's wiles and female art. 
For when Alcraena's nine long months were 

run, 
And Jove expected his immortal son, 
To Gods and Goddesses th' unruly joy 
He shew'd, and vaunted of his matchless 

boy: 
" From us " (he said) " this day an infant 

springs. 
Fated to rule, and born a King of Kings." 
Saturnia ask'd an oath, to vouch the truth, 
And fix dominion on the favour'd youth, no 
The Thund'rer, unsuspicious of the fraud, 
Pronounc'd those solemn words that bind 

a God. 
The joyful Goddess, from Olympus' height, 
Swift to Achaian Argos bent her flight. 
Scarce seven moons gone, lay Sthenelus's 

wife; 
She push'd her ling'ring infant into life: 
Her charms Alcniena's coming labours 

stay. 
And stop the babe just issuing to the day. 
Then bids Saturnius bear his oath in mind; 
" A youth " (said she) "of Jove's immortal 

kind 120 



THE ILIAD 



473 



Is this day boru: from Stbeiielus he 
springs, 

Aud claims thy promise to be King of 
Kings." 

Grief seiz'd the Thund'rer, by his oath en- 
gaged; 

Stung to the soul, he sorrow'd and he raged. 

From his ambrosial head, where perch'd she 
sat, 

He snatch'd the Fury-Goddess of Debate, 

The dread, th' irrevocable oath he swore, 

Th' immortal seats should ne'er behold her 
more; 

And whirl'd her headlong down, for ever 
driv'n 

From bright Olympus and the starry 
Heav'n; 130 

Thence on the nether world the Fury 
fell; 

Ordain'd with man's contentious race to 
dwell. 

Full oft the God his son's hard toils be- 
moan 'd, 

Curs'd the dire Fury, and in secret groan'd. 

Ev'u thus, like Jove himself, was I misled. 

While raging Hector heap'd our camps 
with dead. 

What can the errors of my rage atone ? 

My martial troops, my treasures, are thy 
own: 

This instant from the navy shall be sent 

Whate'er Ulysses promis'd at thy tent; 140 

But thou ! appeas'd, propitious to our 
prayer, 

Resume thy arms, and shine again in war.' 
' O King of Nations ! whose superior 
sway ' 

(Returns Achilles) ' all our hosts obey ! 

To keep or send the presents be thy care; 

To us, 'tis equal: all we ask is war. 

While yet we talk, or but an instant shun 

The fight, our glorious work remains un- 
done. 

Let ev'ry Greek who sees my spear con- 
found 

The Trojan ranks, and deal destruction 
round, 150 

With emulation, what I act, survey. 

And learn from thence the business of the 
day.' 
The son of Peleus thus: and thus replies 

The great in councils, Ithaeus the wise: 

' Tho', godlike, thou art by no toils op- 
press'd, 

At least our armies claim repast and rest : 



Long and laborious must the combat be. 
When by the Gods inspired, and led by 

thee. 
Strength is derived from spirits and from 

blood, 
And those augment by gen'rous wine and 

food ; 160 

What boastful sou of war, without that 

stay. 
Can last a hero thro' a single day ? 
Courage may prompt; but, ebbing out his 

strength 
Mere unsupported man must yield at 

length; 
Shrunk with dry famine, and with toils de- 

clin'd. 
The drooping body will desert the mind: 
But builfe anew, with strength-conferring 

fare, 
With limbs and soul untamed, he tires a 

war. 
Dismiss the people then, and give com- 
mand, 169 
With strong repast to hearten ev'ry band; 
But let the presents to Achilles made. 
In full assembly of all Greece be laid. 
The King of Men shall rise in public 

sight. 
And solemn swear (observant of the rite), 
That, spotless as she came, the maid re- 
moves. 
Pure from his arms, and guiltless of his 

loves. 
That done, a sumptuous banquet shall be 

made. 
And the full price of injured honour paid. 
Stretch not henceforth, O Prince ! thy 

sov'reign might, 179 

Beyond the bounds of reason and of right; 
'T is the chief praise that e'er to Kings 

belong'd. 
To right with justice whom with power 

they wrong'd.' 
To him the Monarch: 'Just is thy de- 
cree, 
Thy words give joy, and wisdom breathes 

in thee. 
Each due atonement gladly I prepare; 
And Heav'n regard me as I justly swear ! 
Here then awhile let Greece assembled 

stay, 
Xor great Achilles grudge this short delay; 
Till from the fleet our presents be convey'd, 
Aud, Jove attesting, the firm compact 

made. 190 



474 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



A train of noble youth the charge shall 

bear; 
These to select, Ulysses, be thy care; 
In order rank'd let all our gifts appear. 
And the fair train of captives close the 

rear: 
Talthybius shall the victim boar convey, 
Sacred to Jove, and yon bright orb of 

day.' 
' For this ' (the stern ^acides replies) 
' Some less important season may suffice, 
When the stern fury of the war is o'er, 
And wrath extinguish'd burns my breast 

no more. 200 

By Hector slain, their faces to the sky. 
All grim with gaping wounds our heroes 

lie: 
Those call to war ! and, might my voice 

incite, 
Now, now this instant should commence 

the fight. 
Then, when the day 's complete, let gen'- 

rous bowls. 
And copious banquets, glad your weary 

souls. 
Let not my palate know the taste of food. 
Till my insatiate rage be cloy'd with blood: 
Pale lies my friend, with wounds disfigured 

o'er, 209 

And his cold feet are pointed to the door. 
Revenge is all my soul ! no meaner care, 
Int'rest, or thought, has room to harbour 

there ; 
Destruction be my feast, and mortal 

wounds, 
And scenes of blood, and agonizing sounds.' 
* O first of Greeks ! ' (Ulysses thus re- 

join'd) 
* The best and bravest of the warrior-kind ! 
Thy praise it is in dreadful camps to shine, 
But old experience and calm wisdom, mine. 
Then hear my counsel, and to reason yield; 
The bravest soon are satiate of the field; 
Tho' vast the heaps that strew the crimson 

plain, 221 

The bloody harvest brings but little gain: 
The scale of conquest ever wav'ring lies, 
Great Jove but turns it, and the victor dies ! 
The great, the bold, by thousands daily fall. 
And endless were the grief to weep for all. 
Eternal sorrows what avails to shed ? 
Greece honours not with solemn fasts the 

dead: 
Enough, when death demands the brave, to 

pay 



The tribute of a melancholy day. 230 

One Chief with patience to the grave re- 

sign'd. 
Our care devolves on others left behind. 
Let gen'rous food supplies of strength pro- 
duce. 
Let rising spirits flow from sprightly juice, 
Let their warm heads with scenes of bat- 
tle glow. 
And pour new furies on the feebler foe. 
Yet a short interval, and none shall dare 
Expect a second summons to the war; 
Who waits for that, the dire effect shall 

find. 
If trembling in the ships he lags behind. 240 
Embodied, to the battle let us bend, 
And all at once on haughty Troy descend.' 

And now the delegates Ulysses sent, 
To bear the presents from the royal tent. 
The sons of Nestor, Phyleus' valiant heir, 
Thoas and Merion, thunderbolts of war, 
With Lycomedes of Creiontian strain. 
And Melanippus, form'd the choseu train. 
Swift as the word was giv'n, the youths 

obey'd; 
Twice ten bright vases in the midst they 
laid; 250 

A row of six fair tripods then succeeds; 
And twice the number of high-bounding 

steeds ; 
Sev'n captives next a lovely line compose; 
The eighth Briseis, like the blooming rose, 
Closed the bright band: great Ithacus be- 
fore. 
First of the train, the golden talents bore: 
The rest in public view the Chiefs dispose, 
A splendid scene ! Then Agamemnon rose: 
The boar Talthybius held: the Grecian lord 
Drew the broad cutlass sheathed beside his 
sword; 260 

The stubborn bristles from the victim's 

brow 
He crops, and, off'ring, meditates his vow. 
His hands uplifted to th' attesting skies, 
On Heav'n's broad marble roof were fix'd 

his eyes; 
The solemn words a deep attention draw, 
And Greece around sat thrill'd with sacred 



awe. 



* Witness, thou first ! thou greatest Power 
above ; 
All-good, all-wise, and all-surveying Jove ! 
And mother Earth, and Heav'n's revolving 

light, 
And ye, fell Furies of the realms of night, 270 



THE ILIAD 



475 



Who rule the dead, and horrid woes pre- 
pare 
For perjured kings, and all who falsely 

swear ! 
The black-eyed maid inviolate removes, 
Pure and unconscious of my manly loves. 
If this be false, Heav'n all its vengeance 

shed, 
And levell'd thunder strike my gnilty 

head ! ' 
With that, his weapon deep inflicts the 

wound: 
The bleeding savage tumbles to the ground : 
The sacred Herald rolls the victim slain 
(A feast for fish) into the foaming main. 280 
Then thus Achilles: * Hear, ye Greeks! 

and know 
Whate'er we feel, 't is Jove inflicts the woe : 
Not else Atrides could our rage inflame. 
Nor from my arms, unwilling, force the 

dame. 
'T was Jove's high will alone, o'er-ruling all. 
That doom'd our strife, and doom'd the 

Greeks to fall. 
Go then, ye Chiefs ! indulge the genial rite: 
Achilles waits ye, and expects the fight.' 
The speedy council at his word ad- 

journ'd; 
To their black vessels all the Greeks re- 

turn'd: 290 

Achilles sought his tent. His train before 
March'd onward, bending with the gifts 

they bore. 
Those in the tents the squires industrious 

spread; 
The foaming coursers to the stalls they led. 
To their new seats the female captives 

move : 
Briseis, radiant as the Queen of Love, 
Slow as she pass'd, beheld with sad survey 
Where, gash'd with cruel wounds, Patroclus 

lay. 
Prone on the body fell the heav'nly Fair, 
Beat her sad breast, and tore her golden 

hair; 300 

All-beautiful in grief, her humid eyes, 
Shining with tears, she lifts, and thus she 

cries: 
* Ah youth ! for ever dear, for ever kind. 
Once tender friend of my distracted mind ! 
I left thee fresh in life, in beauty gay; 
Now find thee cold, inanimated clay ! 
What woes my wretched race of life at- 
tend ! 
Sorrows on sorrows, never doom'd to end ! 



The first lov'd consort of my virgin bed 
Before these eyes in fatal battle bled: 310 
My three brave brothers in one mournful 

day 
All trod the dark irremeable way: 
Thy friendly arm uprear'd me from the 

plain. 
And dried my sorrows for a husband slain; 
Achilles' care you promis'd I should prove, 
The first, the dearest partner of his love; 
That rites divine should ratify the band. 
And make me Empress in his native land. 
Accept these grateful tears ! for thee they 

flow. 
For thee, that ever felt another's woe ! ' 320 
Her sister captives echoed groan for 

groan, 
Nor mourn'd Patroclus' fortunes, but their 

own. 
The leaders press'd the Chief on ev'ry side; 
Unmov'd he heard them, and with sighs 

denied : 
' If yet Achilles have a friend, whose care 
Is bent to please him, this request forbear: 
Till yonder sun descend, ah, let me pay 
To grief and anguish one abstemious day.' 
He spoke, and from the warriors turn'd 

his face: 
Yet still the Brother-Kings of Atreus' 

race, 330 

Nestor, Idomeneus, Ulysses sage, 
And Phoenix, strive to calm his grief and 

rage: 
His rage they calm not, nor his grief con- 
trol: 
He groans, he raves, he sorrows from his 

soul. 
* Thou too, Patroclus ' (thus his heart 

he vents) ! 
' Hast spread th' inviting banquet in our 

tents; 
Thy sweet society, thy winning care, 
Oft stay'd Achilles, rushing to the war. 
But now, alas ! to death's cold arms re- 

sign'd. 
What banquet but revenge can glad my 

mind ? 340 

What greater sorrow could afflict my 

breast. 
What more, if hoary Peleus were deceas'd ? 
Who now, perhaps, in Phthia dreads to 

hear 
His son's sad fate, and drops a tender tear. 
What more, should Neoptolemus the brave 
(My only offspring) sink into the grave ? 



476 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



If yet that offspring lives (I distant far, 
Of all neglectful, wage a hateful war). 
I could not this, this cruel stroke attend; 
Fate claim'd Achilles, but might spare his 

friend. 350 

I hoped Patroclus might survive to rear 
My tender orphan with a parent's care. 
From Scyros' isle conduct him o'er the 

main. 
And glad his eyes with his paternal reign. 
The lofty palace, and the large domain. 
For Peleus breathes no more the vital air; 
Or drags a wretched life of age and care, 
But till the news of my sad fate invades 
His hast'ning soul, and sinks him to the 

shades.' 
Sighing he said: his grief the heroes 

join'd, 360 

Each stole a tear, for what he left behind. 
Their mingled grief the Sire of Heav'n 

survey 'd. 
And thus, with pity, to his Blue-eyed Maid: 
* Is then Achilles now no more thy care, 
And dost thou thus desert the great in war ? 
Lo, where yon sails their canvas wings ex- 
tend, 
All comfortless he sits, and wails his friend : 
Ere thirst and want his forces have op- 

press'd. 
Haste and infuse ambrosia in his breast.' 
He spoke, and sudden at the word of 

Jove 370 

Shot the descending Goddess from above. 
So swift thro' ether the shrill Harpy 

springs. 
The wide air floating to her ample wings. 
To great Achilles she her flight address'd. 
And pour'd divine ambrosia in his breast, 
With nectar sweet (refection of the Gods) ! 
Then, swift ascending, sought the bright 

abodes. 
Now issued from the ships the warrior 

train, 
And like a deluge pour'd upon the plain. 
As when the piercing blasts of Boreas 

blow, 380 

And scatter o'er the fields the driving 

snow; 
From dusky clouds the fleecy winter flies. 
Whose dazzling lustre whitens all the 

skies : 
So helms succeeding helms, so shields from 

shields 
Catch the quick beams, and brighten all the 

fields ; 



Broad glitt'ring breast-plates, spears with 

pointed rays, 
Mix in one stream, reflecting blaze on 

blaze : 
Thick beats the centre as the coursers 

bound. 
With splendour flame the skies, and laugh 

the fields around. 
Full in the midst, high-tow'ring o'er the 

rest, 290 

His limbs in arms divine Achilles dress'd; 
Arms which the Father of the Fire be- 

stow'd. 
Forged on th' eternal anvils of the God. 
Grief and revenge his furious heart inspire. 
His glowing eye-balls roll with living 

fire; 
He grinds his teeth, and furious with delay 
O'erlooks th' embattled host, and hopes 

the bloody day. 
The silver cuishes first his thighs infold,' 
Then o'er his breast was braced the hollow 

gold: 
The brazen sword a various baldric tied, 400 
That, Starr' d with gems, hung glitt'ring 

at his side; 
And, like the moon, the broad refulgent 

shield 
Blazed with long rays, and gleam'd athwart 

the field. 
So to night- wand'ring sailors, pale with 

fears, 
Wide o'er the wat'ry waste a light appears, 
Which on the far-seen mountain blazing 

high. 
Streams from some lonely watch-tower to 

the sky: 
With mournful eyes they gaze and gaze 

again ; 
Loud howls the storm, and drives them 

o'er the main. 
Next, his high head the helmet graced; 

behind 410 

The sweepy crest hung floating in the 

wind: 
Like the red star, that from his flaming 

hair 
Shakes down diseases, pestilence, and war; 
So stream'd the golden honours from his 

head, 
Trembled the sparkling plumes, and the 

loose glories shed. 
The Chief beholds himself with wond'ring 

eyes; 
His arms he poises, and his motions tries; 



THE ILIAD 



477 



Buoy'd by some inward force, he seems to 

swim, 
And feels a pinion lifting ev'ry limb. 
And now he shakes his great paternal 

spear, 420 

Pond'rous and huge ! which not a Greek 

could rear: 
From Pelion's cloudy top an ash entire 
Old Chiron fell'd, and shaped it for his 

sire; 
A spear which stern Achilles only wields, 
The death of heroes, and the dread of 

fields. 
Automedon and Alcimus prepare 
Th' immortal coursers and the radiant car 
(The silver traces sweeping at their side) ; 
Their fiery mouths resplendent bridles 

tied; 429 

The iv'ry-studded reins, return'd behind. 
Waved o'er their backs, and to the chariot 

join'd. 
The charioteer then whirl'd the lash 

around. 
And swift ascended at one active bound. 
All bright in heav'nly arms, above his 

squire 
Achilles mounts, and sets the field on fire; 
Not brighter Phoebus in th' ethereal way 
Flames from his chariot, and restores the 

day. 
High o'er the host, all terrible he stands. 
And thunders to his steeds these dread 

commands: 
' Xanthus and Balius ! of Podarges' 

strain 440 

(Unless ye boast that heav'nly race in 

vain), 
Be swift, be mindful of the load ye bear. 
And learn to make your master more your 

care: 
Thro' falling squadrons bear my slaught'- 

ring sword, 
Nor, as ye left Patroclus, leave your lord.' 
The gen'rous Xanthus, as the words he 

said, 
Seem'd sensible of woe, and droop'd his 

head : 
Trembling he stood before the golden wain, 
And bow'd to dust the honours of his 

mane; 
When, strange to tell (so Juno will'd !), he 

broke 450 

Eternal silence, and portentous spoke: 
' Achilles ! yes ! this day at least we bear • 
Thy rage in safety khro' the files of war: 



But come it will, the fatal time must come, 

Not ours the fault, but God decrees thy 
doom. 

Not thro' our crime, or slowness in the 
course. 

Fell thy Patroclus, but by heav'nly force: 

The bright far-shooting God who gilds the 
day 

(Confess'd we saw him) tore his arms 
away. 

No: could our swiftness o'er the winds pre- 
vail, 460 

Or beat the pinions of the western gale, 

All were in vain: the Fates thy death de- 
mand. 

Due to a mortal and immortal hand.' 
Then ceas'd for ever, by the Furies 
tied, 

His fateful voice. Th' intrepid Chief re- 
plied 

With unabated rage: * So let it be ! 

Portents and prodigies are lost on me. 

I know my fates: to die, to see no more 

My much-lov'd parents, and my native 
shore — 

Enough: when Heav'n ordains, I sink in 
night; 470 

Now perish Troy ! ' He said, and rush'd 
to fight. 



BOOK XX 

THE BATTLE OF THE GODS, AND THE ACTS 
OF ACHILLES 

THE ARGUMENT 

Jupiter, upon Acliilles' return to the battle, 
calls a council of the gods, and permits them 
to assist either party. The terrors of the 
combat described when the deities are en- 
gaged. Apollo encourag-es ^neas to meet 
Achilles. After a long conversation, these 
two heroes encounter ; but ^neas is pre- 
served by the assistance of Neptune. Achil- 
les falls upon the rest of the Trojans, and is 
upon the point of killing Hector, but Apollo 
conveys him away in a cloud. Achilles pur- 
sues the Trojans with a great slaughter. 

The same day continues. The scene is in the 
field before Troy. 

Thus round Pelides breathing war and 
blood, 
Greece, sheathed in arms, beside her ves- 
sels stood; 



478 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



While, near impending from a neighb'ring 

height, 
Troy's black battalions wait the shock of 

fight. 
Then Jove to Themis gives command, to 

call 
The Gods to council in tho starry hall : 
Swift o'er Olympus' hundred hills she 

flies, 
And summons all the Senate of the Skies. 
These, shining on, in long procession come 
To Jove's eternal adamantine dome. lo 

Not one was absent, not a rural Power 
That haunts the verdant gloom, or rosy 

bower; 
Each fair-hair'd Dryad of the shady wood, 
Each azure sister of the silver flood ; 
All but old Ocean, hoary Sire ! who keeps 
His ancient seat beneath the sacred deeps. 
On marble thrones with lucid columns 

crown'd 
(The work of Vulcan) sat the Powers 

around. 
Ev'n he, whose trident sways the wat'ry 

reign. 
Heard the loud summons, and forsook the 

main, 20 

Assumed his throne amid the bright abodes, 
And question'd thus the Sire of men and 

Gods: 
'What moves the God who Heav'n and 

earth commands. 
And grasps the thunder in his awful 

hands. 
Thus to convene the whole ethereal state ? 
Is Greece and Troy the subject in debate ? 
Already met, the low'ring hosts appear, 
And death stands ardent on the edg^e of 

war. 
* 'T is true ' (the Cloud-compelling Power 

replies), 
* This day we call the Council of the 

Skies 30 

In care of human race; ev'n Jove's own 

eye 
Sees with regret unhappy mortals die. 
Far on Olympus' top in secret state 
Ourself will sit, and see the hand of Fate 
Work out our will. Celestial Powers ! de- 
scend. 
And, as your minds direct, your succour 

lend 
To either host. Troy soon must lie o'er- 

thrown. 
If uncontroU'd Achilles fights alone: 



Their troops but lately durst not meet his 

eyes; 
What can they now, if in his rage he 

rise ? 40 

Assist them, Gods ! or Ilion's sacred wall 
May fall this day, tho' Fate forbids the 

fall.' 
He said, and fired their Heav'nly breasts 

with rage; 
On adverse parts the warring Gods en- 
gage. 
Heav'n's awful Queen; and he whose azure 

round 
Girds the vast globe; the Maid in arms 

renown'd; 
Hermes, of profitable arts the sire. 
And Vulcan, the black Sov'reign of the 

Fire: 
These to the fleet repair with instant flight; 
Th& vessels tremble as the Gods alight. 50 
In aid of Troy, Latona, Phcebus came. 
Mars fiery - helm'd, the Laughter-loving 

Dame, 
Xanthus, whose streams in golden currents 

flow, 
And the chaste Huntress of the Silver 

Bow. 
Ere yet the Gods their various aid employ, 
Each Argive bosom swell'd with manly 

While great Achilles (terror of the plain) 
Long lost to battle, shone in arms again. 
Dreadful he stood in front of all his host; 
Pale Troy beheld, and seem'd already 

lost; 60 

Her bravest heroes pant with inward fear. 
And trembling see another God of War. 
But when the Powers descending swell'd 

the fight, 
Then tumult rose; fierce rage and pale 

affright 
Varied each face; then discord sounds 

alarms. 
Earth echoes, and the nations rush to 

arms. 
Now thro' the trembling shores Minerva 

calls. 
And now she thunders from the Grecian 

walls. 
Mars, hov'ring o'er his Troy, his terror 

shrouds 69 

In gloomy tempests, and a night of clouds: 
Now thro' each Trojan heart he fury pours 
With voice divine from Ilion's topmost 

.towers; 



THE ILIAD 



479 



Now shouts to Siinois, from her beauteous 

hill; 
The mountain shook, the rapid stream stood 

still. 
Above, the Sire of Gods his thunder rolls, 
And peals on peals redoubled rend the 

poles. 
Beneath, stern Neptune shakes the solid 

ground; 
The forests wave, the mountains nod 

around ; 
Thro' all their summits tremble Ida's 

woods, 
And from their sources boil her hundred 

floods. 80 

Troy's turrets totter on the rocking plain ; 
And the toss'd navies beat the heaving 

main. 
Deep in the dismal regions of the dead, 
Th' Infernal Monarch rear'd his horrid 

head, 
Leap'd from his throne, lest Neptune's 

arm should lay 
His dark dominions open to the day, 
And pour in light on Pluto's drear abodes, 
Abhorr'd by men, and dreadful ev'n to 

Gods. 
Such war th' Immortals wage: such hor- 
rors rend 
The world's vast concave, when the Gods 

contend. 90 

First silver-shafted Phcebus took the plain 
Against blue Neptune, Monarch of the 

Main: 
The God of Arms his giant bulk display'd. 
Opposed to Pallas, War's triumphant Maid. 
Against Latona march'd the son of May; 
The quiver'd Dian, sister of the Day 
(Her golden arrows sounding at her side), 
Saturnia, Majesty of Heav'n, defied. 
With fiery Vulcan last in battle stands 
The sacred flood that rolls on golden 

sands ; 100 

Xanthus his name with those of heav'nly 

birth, 
But call'd Scamander by the sons of earth. 
While thus the Gods in various league 

engage, 
Achilles glow'd with more than mortal rage : 
Hector he sought; in search of Hector 

turn'd 
His eyes around, for Hector only burn'd; 
And burst like lightning thro' the ranks, 

and vow'd 
To glut the God of Battles with his blood. 



^neas was the first who dared to stay; 

Apollo wedg'd him in the warrior's 
way, no 

But swell'd his bosom with undaunted 
might, 

Half-forc'd and half-persuaded to the 
fight. 

Like young Lycaon, of the royal line. 

In voice and aspect, seem'd the Power 
divine; 

And bade the Chief reflect, how late with 
scorn 

In distant threats he braved the Goddess- 
born. 
Then thus the hero of Anchises' strain: 

' To meet Pelides you persuade in vain; 

Already have I met, nor void of fear 

Observ'd the fury of his flying spear; 120 

From Ida's woods he chased us to the field. 

Our force he scatter'd, and our herds he 
kiU'd. 

Lyrnessus, Pedasus in ashes lay; 

But (Jove assisting) I survived the day. 

Else had I sunk oppress'd in fatal fight. 

By fierce Achilles and Minerva's might. 

Where'er he mov'd, the Goddess shone be- 
fore. 

And bathed his brazen lance in hostile 
gore. 

What mortal man Achilles can sustain ? 

Th' Immortals guard him thro' the dread- 
ful plain, 130 

And suffer not his dart to fall in vain. 

Were God my aid, this arm should check 
his power, 

Tho' strong in battle as a brazen tower.' 
To whom the Son of Jove : ' That God 
implore. 

And be what great Achilles was before. 

From heav'nly Venus thou derivest thy 
strain, 

And he but from a Sister of the Main; 

An aged Sea-God father of his line. 

But Jove himself the sacred source of 
thine. 

Then lift thy weapon for a noble blow, 140 

Nor fear the vaunting of a mortal foe.' 
This said, and .spirit breathed into his 
breast. 

Thro' the thick troops th' embolden'd hero 
press'd: 

His venturous act the White-arm'd Queen 
survey'd. 

And thus, assembling all the Powers, she 
said: 



480 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



* Behold an action, Gods ! that claims 

your care, 
Lo, great -^neas rushing to the war; 
Against Pelides he directs his course; 
Phoebus impels, and Phcebus gives him 

force. 
Restrain his bold career; at least, t' at- 
tend 150 
Our favoui'd Hero, let some Power de- 
scend. 
To guard his life, and add to his renown, 
We, the great Armament of Heav'n, came 

down. 
Hereafter let him fall, as Fates design, 
That spun so short his life's illustrious line; 
But lest some adverse God now cross his 

way. 
Give him to know what Powers assist this 

day: 
For how shall mortal stand the dire alarms, 
When Heav'n's refulgent host appear in 

arms ? ' 
Thus she, and thus the God whose force 

can make 160 

The solid globe's eternal basis shake: 
' Against the might of man, so feeble 

known. 
Why should celestial Powers exert their 

own ? 
Suffice, from yonder mount to view the 

scene; 
And leave to war the fates of mortal men. 
But if th' Armipotent, or God of Light, 
Obstruct Achilles, or commence the fight, 
Thence on the Gods of Troy we swift de- 
scend: 
Full soon, I doubt not, shall the conflict 

end; 
And these, in ruin and confusion hurl'd, 170 
Yield to our conquering arms the lower 

world.' 
Thus having said, the Tyrant of the Sea, 
Coerulean Neptune, rose, and led the way. 
Advanc'd upon the field there stood a 

mound 
Of earth congested, wall'd, and trench'd 

around ; 
In elder times to guard Alcides made 
(The work of Trojans with Minerva's aid), 
What time a vengeful monster of the main 
Swept the wide shore, and drove him to the 

plain. 
Here Neptune and the Gods of Greece 

repair, iSo 

With clouds encompass'd, and a veil of air: 



The adverse Powers, around Apollo laid, 
Crown the fair hills that silver Simois 

shade. 
In circle close each heav'nJy party sat. 
Intent to form the future scheme of Fate; 
But mix not yet in fight, tho' Jove on high 
Gives the loud signal, and the Heav'ns 
reply. 
Meanwhile the rushing armies hide the 
ground ; 
The trampled centre yields a hollow sound: 
Steeds cased in mail, and Chiefs in armour 
bright, 190 

The gleamy champaign glows with brazen 

light. 
Amidst both hosts (a dreadful space !) ap- 
pear 
There, great Achilles; bold ^neas here. 
With tow'ring strides iEneas first ad- 
vanc'd ; 
The nodding plumage on his helmet 

danc'd; 
Spread o'er his breast the fencing shield he 

bore. 
And, as he mov'd, his jav'lin flamed before. 
Not so Pelides: furious to engage. 
He rush'd impetuous. Such the lion's rage, 
Who, viewing first his foes with scornful 
eyes, 200 

Tho' all in arms the peopled city rise. 
Stalks careless on, with unregarding pride; 
Till at the length, by some brave youth de- 
fied. 
To his bold spear the savage turns alone; 
He murmurs fury with a hollow groan: 
He grins, he foams, he rolls his eyes 

around; 
Lash'd by his tail, his heaving sides re- 
sound; 
He calls up all his rage, he grinds his teeth, 
Resolv'd on vengeance, or resolv'd on 

death. 
So fierce Achilles on iEneas flies; 210 

So stands ^neas, and his force defies. 
Ere yet the stern encounter join'd, begun 
The seed of Thetis thus to Venus' son: 
' Why comes ^neas thro' the ranks so 
far? 
Seeks he to meet Achilles' arm in war. 
In hope the realms of Priam to enjoy. 
And prove his merits to the throne of 

Troy ? 
Grant that beneath thy lance Achilles dies, 
The partial Monarch may refuse the 
prize; 



THE ILIAD 



481 



Sons he has many: those thy pride may 
quell ; 220 

And 'tis his fault to love those sons too 
well. 

Or, in reward of thy victorious hand, 

Has Troy proposed some spacious tract of 
land? 

An ample forest, or a fair domain. 

Of hills for vines, and arable for grain ? 

Ev'n this, perhaps, will hardly prove thy 
lot. 

But can Achilles be so soon forgot ? 

Once (as I think) you saw this brandish'd 
spear, 

And then the great -^neas seem'd to fear. 

With hearty haste from Ida's mount he 
fled, 230 

Nor, till he reach'd Lyrnessus, turn'd his 
head. 

Her lofty walls not long our progress 
stay'd ; 

Those, Pallas, Jove, and we, in ruins laid: 

In Grecian chains her captive race were 
cast; 

'T is true, the great iEneas fled too fast. 

Defrauded of my conquest once before. 

What then I lost, the Gods this day re- 
store. 

Go; while thou may'st, avoid the threaten'd 
fate; 

Fools stay to feel it, and are wise too late.' 
To this Anchises' son: * Such words em- 
ploy 240 

To one that fears thee, some unwarlike 
boy; 

Such we disdain; the best may be defied 

With mean reproaches, and unmanly pride: 

Unworthy the high race from which we 
came, 

Proclaim'd so loudly by the voice of Fame; 

Each from illustrious fathers draws his 
line ; 

Each Goddess-born; half human, half 
divine. 

Thetis' this day, or Venus' offspring dies. 

And tears shall trickle from celestial eyes: 

For when two heroes, thus derived, con- 
tend, 250 

'T is not in words the glorious strife can 
end. 

If yet thou farther seek to learn my birth 

(A tale resounded thro' the spacious earth), 

Hear how the glorious orgin we prove 

From ancient Dardanus, the first from 
Jove: 



Dardania's walls he rais'd; for Ilion then 
(The city since of many-lauguaged men) 
Was not. The natives were content to till 
The shady foot of Ida's fountful hill. 
From Dardanus, great Erichthonius 

springs, 260 

The richest once of Asia's wealthy Kings; 
Three thousand mares his spacious pastures 

bred. 
Three thousand foals beside their mothers 

fed. 
Boreas, enamour'd of the sprightly train, 
Conceal'd his Godhead in a flowing mane, 
With voice dissembled to his loves he 

neigh'd. 
And cours'd the dappled beauties o'er the 

mead : 
Hence sprung twelve others of uurivall'd 

kind. 
Swift as their mother mares and father 

wind. 
These lightly skimming, when they swept 

the plain, 270 

Nor plied the grass, nor bent the tender 

grain ; 
And when along the level seas they flew. 
Scarce on the surface curl'd the briny dew. 
Such Erichthonius was: From him there 

came 
The sacred Tros, of whom the Trojan name. 
Three sons renown'd adorn'd his nuptial bed, 
Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymed: 
The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair. 
Whom Heav'n, enamour'd, snatch'd to up- 
per air. 
To bear the cup of Jove (ethereal guest, 280 
The grace and glory of th' ambrosial feast). 
The two remaining sons the line divide: 
First rose Laomedon from Ilus' side: 
From him Tithonus, now in cares grown 

old, 
And Priam (blest with Hector, brave and 

bold); 
Clytius and Lampus, ever-honour'd pair; 
And Hicetaon, thunderbolt of war. 
From great Assaracus sprung Capys, he 
Begat Anchises, and Anchises me, 
Such is our race: 'tis Fortune gives us 

birth, 290 

But Jove alone endues the soid with worth: 
He, source of power and might! with bound- 
less sway 
All human courage gives or takes away. 
Long in the field of words we may contend, 
Keproach is infinite, and knows no end, 



482 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Arm'd or with truth or falsehood, right or 
wrong, 

So voluble a weapon is the tongue; 

Wounded, we wound; and neither side can 
fail, 

For ev'ry man has equal strength to rail: 

Women alone, when in the streets they 
jar, 300 

Perhaps excel us in this wordy war; 

Like us they stand, encompass'd with the 
crowd, 

And vent their anger, impotent and loud. 

Cease then: our bus'ness in the Field of 
Fight 

Is not to question, but to prove our might. 

To all those insults thou hast offer'd here 

Receive this answer: 'tis my flying spear.' 
He spoke. With all his force the jav'lin 
flung, 

Fix'd deep, and loudly in the buckler rung. 

Far on his outstretch'd arm Pelides held 3 10 

(To meet the thund'ring lance) his dread- 
ful shield, 

That trembled as it struck ; nor void of fear 

Saw, ere it fell, th' immeasurable spear. 

His fears were vain; impenetrable charms 

Secured the temper of th' ethereal arms. 

Thro' two strong plates the point its pas- 
sage held. 

But stopp'd and rested, by the third re- 
pell'd; 

Five plates of various metal, various" 
mould, 

Composed the shield; of brass each out- 
ward fold, 319 

Of tin each inward, and the middle gold: J 

There stuck the lanee. Then, rising ere he 
threw. 

The forceful spear of great Achilles flew, 

And pierc'd the Dardan shield's extremest 
bound. 

Where the shrill brass return'd a sharper 
sound: 

Thro' the thin verge the Pelian weapon 
glides, 

And the slight cov'ring of expanded hides. 

-tineas his contracted body bends. 

And o'er him high the riven targe extends. 

Sees, thro' its parting plates, the upper air, 

And at his back perceives the quiv'ring 
spear: 330 

A fate so near him chills his soul with 
fright. 

And swims i3efore his eyes the many-col- 
our'd light. 



Achilles, rushing in with dreadful cries, 
Draws his broad blade, and at ^neas flies: 
^Eneas, rousing as the foe came on 
(With force collected), heaves a mighty 

stone ; 
A mass enormous! which, in modern days 
No two of earth's degen'rate sous could 

raise. 
But ocean's God, whose earthquakes rock 

the ground, 
Saw the distress, and mov'd the Powers 

around: 340 

* Lo! on the brink of fate ^neas stands, 

An instant victim to Achilles' hands; 

By Phcfibus urged ; but Phoebus has bestow'd 

His aid in vain: the man o'erpowers the 

God. 
And can ye see this righteous Chief atone. 
With guiltless blood, for vices not his own ? 
To all the Gods his constant vows were 

paid; 
Sure, tho' he wars for Troy, he claims our 

aid. 
Fate wills not this; nor thus can Jove re- 
sign 
The future father of the Dardan line: 350 
The first great ancestor obtain'd his grace. 
And still his love descends on all the race. 
For Priam now, and Priam's faithless kind. 
At length are odious to th' all-seeing mind; 
On great ^neas shall devolve the reign. 
And sons succeeding sons the lasting line 

sustain.' 
The great earth-shaker thus: to whom 

replies 
Th' imperial Goddess with the radiant eyes: 
* Good as he is, to immolate or spare 
The Dardan Prince, O Neptune, be thy 

care; 360 

Pallas and I, by all that Gods can bind. 
Have sworn destruction to the Trojan kind ; 
Not ev'n an instant to protract their fate. 
Or save one member of the sinking state; 
Till her last flame be quench'd with her 

last gore. 
And ev'n her crumbling ruins are no more.* 
The King of Ocean to the fight descends; 
Thro' all the whistling darts his course he 

bends. 
Swift interposed between the warriors flies, 
And casts thick darkness o'er Achilles' 

eyes. ^ 370 

From great Eneas' shield the spear he 

drew. 
And at its master's feet the weapon threw. 



THE ILIAD 



483 



That done, with force divine he snatch'd 

on high 
The Dardan Prince, and bore him thro' the 

sky. 
Smooth-gliding without step, above the 

heads 
Of warring heroes and of bounding steeds. 
Till at the battle's utmost verge they light, 
Where the slow Caucons close the rear of 

fight: 
The Godhead there (his heav'nly form con- 

fess'd) 
With words like these the panting Chief 
address'd: 380 

'What Power, O Prince, with force in- 
ferior far 
Urged thee to meet Achilles' arm in war ? 
Henceforth beware, nor antedate thy doom, 
Defrauding Fate of all thy fame to come. 
But when the day decreed (for come it 

must). 
Shall lay this dreadful hero in the dust, 
Let then the furies of that arm be known. 
Secure no Grecian force transcends thy 
own.' 
With that, he left him wond'ring as he 
lay, ^ 3?9 

Then from Achilles chased the mist away : 
Sudden, returning with the stream of light, 
The scene of war came rushing on his sight. 
Then thus amazed: * What wonders strike 

my mind! 
My spear, that parted on the wings of 

wind. 
Laid here before me! and the Dardan lord. 
That fell this instant, vanish'd from my 

sword! 
I thought alone with mortals to contend. 
But Powers celestial sure this foe defend. 
Great as he is, our arm he scarce will try, 
Content for once, with all his Gods, to fly. 
Now then let others bleed.' This said, 
aloud 40X 

He vents his fury, and inflames the crowd : 
* O Greeks ' (he cries, and every rank 

alarms), 
' Join battle, man to man, and arms to arms! 
'T is not in me, tho' favour'd by the sky. 
To mow whole troops, and make whole 

armies fly: 
No God can singly such a host engage, 
Not Mars himself, nor great Minerva's 

rage. 
But whatsoe'er Achilles can inspire, 
Whate'er of active force, or acting fire, 410 



Whate'er this heart can prompt, or hand 

obey; 
All, all Achilles, Greeks, is yours to-day. 
Thro' yon wide host this arm shall scatter 

fear, 
And thin the squadrons with my single 

spear.' 
He said: nor less elate with martial joy. 
The godlike Hector warm'd the troops of 

Troy: 
' Trojans, to war! think Hector leads you on ; 
Nor dread the vaunts of Peleus' haughty 

son. 
Deeds must decide our fate. Ev'n those 

with words 
Insult the brave, who tremble at their 

swords; 420 

The weakest atheist-wretch all Heav'n de- 
fies. 
But shrinks and shudders, when the thun- 
der flies. 
Nor from yon boaster shall your Chief 

retire, 
Not tho' his heart were steel, his hands 

were fire; 
That fire, that steel, your Hector should 

withstand. 
And brave that vengeful heart, that dread- 
ful hand.' 
Thus (breathing rage thro' all) the hero 

said; 
A wood of lances rises round his head. 
Clamours on clamours tempest all the air; 
They join, they throng, they thicken to the 

war. 430 

But Phcebus warns him from high Heav'n 

to shun 
The single fight with Thetis' godlike son: 
More safe to combat in the mingled band, 
Nor tempt too near the terrors of his hand. 
He hears, obedient to the God of Light, 
And, plunged within the ranks, awaits the 

fight. 
Then fierce Achilles, shouting to the 

skies. 
On Troy's whole force with boundless fury 

flies. 
First falls Iphytion, at his army's head; 
Brave was the Chief, and brave the host he 

led; 440 

From great Otrynteus he derived his blood, 
His mother was a Nais of the flood; 
Beneath the shades of Tmolus, crown'd 

with snow. 
From Hyde's walls he ruled the lands below. 



484 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Fierce as he springs, the sword his head 

divides; 
The parted visage falls on equal sides : 
With loud resounding arms he strikes the 

plain ; 
While thus Achilles glories o'er the slain: 

* Lie there, Otryntides ! the Trojan earth 
Receives thee dead, tho' Gygse boast thy 

birth ; 450 

Those beauteous fields where Hyllus' waves 

are roll'd, 
And plenteous Hermus swells with tides of 

gold. 
Are thine no more.' Th' insulting hero said. 
And left him sleeping in eternal shade. 
The rolling wheels of Greece the body tore, 
And dash'd their axles with no vulgar gore. 
Demoleon next, Antenor's offspring, laid 
Breathless in dust, the price of rashness 

paid. 
Th' impatient steel with full descending 

sway 
Forc'd thro' his brazen helm its furious 

way, 460 

Resistless drove the batter 'd skull before. 
And dash'd and mingled all the brains with 

gore. 
This sees Hippodamas, and, seiz'd with 

fright. 
Deserts his chariot for a swifter flight: 
The lance arrests him; an ignoble wound 
The panting Trojan rivets to the ground. 
He groans away his soul: not louder roars 
At Neptune's shrine on Helicd's high shores 
The victim bull; the rocks rebellow round, 
And ocean listens to the grateful sound. 470 
Then fell on Polydore his vengeful rage. 
The youngest hope of Priam's stooping age 
(Whose feet for swiftness in the race sur- 

pass'd) ; 
Of all his sons, the dearest and the last. 
To the forbidden field he takes his flight 
In the first folly of a youthful knight; 
To vaunt his swiftness wheels around the 

plain. 
But vaunts not long, with all his swiftness 

slain ; 
Struck where the crossing belts unite be- 
hind. 
And golden rings tha double back-plate 

join'd. 480 

Forth thro' the navel burst the thrilling 

steel; 
And on his knees with piercing shrieks he 

fell; 



The rushing entrails pour'd upon the 

ground 
His hands collect: and darkness wraps him 

round. 
When Hector view'd, all ghastly in his gore. 
Thus sadly slain, th' unhappy Polydore; 
A cloud of sorrow overcast his sight. 
His soul no longer brook'd the distant fight; 
Full in Achilles' dreadful front he came, 
And shook his jav'lin like a waving 

flame. 490 

The son of Peleus sees, with joy possess'd. 
His heart high-bounding in his rising 

breast: 
And, ' Lo ! the man, on whom black fates 

attend ; 
The man that slew Achilles in his friend ! 
No more shall Hector's and Pelides' spear 
Turn from each other in the walks of war.' 
Then with revengeful eyes he scann'd him 

o'er — 
' Come, and receive thy Fate ! ' He spake 

no more. 
Hector, undaunted, thus: *Such words 

employ 
To one that dreads thee, some unwarlike 

boy: ^ 500 

Such we could give, defying and defied, 
Mean intercourse of obloquy and pride ! 
I know thy force to mine superior far; 
But Heav'n alone confers success in war; 
Mean as I am, the Gods may guide my 

dart. 
And give it entrance in a braver heart.' 
Then parts the lance : but Pallas' heav'nly 

breath 
Far from Achilles wafts the winged death: 
The bidden dart again to Hector flies. 
And at the feet of its great master lies. 510 
Achilles closes with his hated foe, 
His heart and eyes with flaming fury glow: 
But, present to his aid, Apollo shrouds 
The favour'd hero in a veil of clouds. 
Thrice struck Pelides with indignant heart, 
Thrice in impassive air he plunged the 

dart: 
The spear a fourth time buried in the cloud, 
He foams with fury, and exclaims aloud: 
* Wretch ! thou hast 'scaped again, once 

more thy flight 
Has saved thee, and the partial God of 

Light ; 520 

But long tho^ shalt not thy just Fate witlir 

stand. 
If any Power assist Achilles' hand. 



THE ILIAD 



485 



Fly then inglorious; but thy flight this day 
Whole hecatombs of Trojan ghosts shall 

pay.' 
With that he gluts his rage on numbers 

slain: 
Then Dryops tumbled to th' ensanguin'd 

plain 
Pierc'd thro' the neck: he left him panting 

there, 
And stopp'd Demuehus, great Philetor's 

heir, 
Gigantic Chief ! deep gash'd th' enormous 

blade, 
And for the soul an ample passage made. 530 
Laogonus and Dardanus expire, 
The valiant sons of an unhappy sire ; 
Both in one instant from the chariot Imrl'd, 
Sunk in one instant to the nether world ; 
This diff'rence only their sad fates afford, 
That one the spear destroy'd, and one the 

sword. 
Nor less unpitied, young Alastor bleeds; 
In vain his youth, in vain his beauty pleads: 
In vain he begs thee, with a suppliant's 

moan 
To spare a form and age so like thy 

own ! 540 

Unhappy boy ! no prayer, no moving art 
E'er bent that fierce inexorable heart ! 
While yet he trembled at his knees, and 

cried, 
The ruthless falchion oped his tender side ; 
The panting liver pours a flood of gore, 
That drowns his bosom till he pants no 

more. 
Thro' Mulius' head then drove th' impet- 
uous spear; 
The warrior falls transfix'd from ear to ear. 
Thy life, Echeclus ! next the sword be- 
reaves ; 
Deep thro' the front the pond'rous falchion 

cleaves; 550 

Warm'd in the brain the smoking weapon 

lies. 
The purple death comes floating o'er his 

eyes. 
Then brave Deucalion died: the dart was 

flung 
Where the knit nerves the pliant elbow 

strung: 
He dropp'd his arm, an unassisting weight, 
And stood all impotent expecting Fate: 
Full on his neck the falling falchion sped, 
From his broad shoulders hew'd his crested 

head: 



Forth from the bone the spinal marrow 

flies. 
And sunk in dust the corpse extended 

lies. 560 

Rhigmus, whose race from fruitful Thracia 

came 
(The son of Pireus, an illustrious name), 
Succeeds to Fate: the spear his belly rends; 
Prone from his car the thund'ring Chief de- 
scends; 
The squire who saw expiring on the ground 
His prostrate master, rein'd the steeds 

around. 
His back scarce turn'd, the Pelian jav'lin 

gored. 
And stretch'd the servant o'er his dying 

lord. 
As when a flame the winding valley fills. 
And runs on crackling shrubs between the 

hills; 570 

Then o'er the stubble up the mountain 

flies. 
Fires the high woods, and blazes to the 

skies. 
This way and that the spreading torrent 

roars; 
So sweeps the hero thro' the wasted shores: 
Around him wide immense destruction 

pours. 
And earth is deluged with the sanguine 

showers. 
As with autumnal harv-ests cover'd o'er, 
And thick bestrown, lies Ceres' sacred 

floor, 
When round and round, with never- wearied 

pain. 
The trampling steers beat out th' unnum- 

ber'd grain: 580 

So the fierce coursers, as the chariot 

rolls, 
Tread down whole ranks, and crush out 

heroes' souls. 
Dash'd from their hoofs, while o'er the 

dead they fly, 
Black, bloody drops the smoking chariot 

dye: 
The spiky wheels thro' heaps of carnage 

tore; 
And thick the groaning axles dropp'd with 

gore. 
High o'er the scene of death Achilles 

stood, 
All grim with dust, all horrible in blood: 
Yet still insatiate, still with rage on flame; 
Such is the lust of never-dying Fame I 500 



486 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



BOOK XXI 

THE BATTLE IN THE RIVER SCAMANDER 
THE ARGUMENT. 

The Trojans fly before Achilles, some towards 
the town, others to the river Scamander ; he 
falls upon the latter with great slaughter, 
takes twelve captives alive, to sacrifice to the 
shade of Patroclus ; and kills Lycaon and 
Asteropaeus. Scamander attacks him with 
all his waves ; Neptune and Pallas assist the 
hero ; Simois joins Scamander ; at length 
Vulcan, by the instigation of Juno, almost 
dries up the river. This combat ended, the 
other gods engage each other. Meanwhile 
Achilles continues the slaughter, and drives 
the rest into Troy : Ag'enor only makes a 
stand, and is conveyed away in a cloud by 
Apollo : who (to delude Achilles) takes upon 
him Agenor's shape, and while he pursues 
him in that disguise, gives the Trojans an 
opportunity of retiring into their city. 

The same day continues. The scene is on the 
banks and in the stream of Scamander. 

And now to Xanthus' gliding stream 

they drove, 
Xanthus, immortal progeny of Jove. 
The river here divides the flying train: 
Part to the town fly diverse o'er the plain, 
Where late their troops triumphant bore 

the fight, 
Now chased and trembling in ignoble flight 
(These with a gather'd mist Saturnia 

shrouds, 
And rolls behind the rout a heap of clouds) ; 
Part plunge into the stream: old Xanthus 

roars; 
The flashing billows beat the whiten'd 

shores: lo 

With cries promiscuous all the banks re- ^ 

sound. 
And here and there, in eddies whirling 

round, 
The flouncing steeds and shrieking war- 
riors drown'd. 
As the scorch'd locusts from their fields 

retire, 
While fast behind them runs the blaze of 

fire; 
Driv'n from the land before the smoky 

cloud, 
The clust'ring legions rush into the flood: 
So plunged in Xanthus by Achilles' force, 
Roars the resounding surge with men and 

horse. 



His bloody lance the hero casts aside ao 
(Which spreading tam'risks on the margin 

hide). 
Then, like a God, the rapid billows braves, 
Arm'd with his sword, high brandish'd o'er 

the waves; 
Now down he plunges, now he whirls it 

round. 
Deep groan the waters with the dying 

sound; 
Repeated wounds the redd'ning river dyed, 
And the warm purple circled on the tide. 
Swift thro' the foamy flood the Trojans fly, 
And close in rocks or winding caverns lie: 
So the huge dolphin tempesting the main, 30 
In shoals before him fly the scaly train; 
Confusedly heap'd, they seek their inmost 

caves, 
Or pant and heave beneath the floating 

waves. 
Now, tired with slaughter, from the Tro- 
jan band 
Twelve chosen youths he drags alive to 

land ; 
With their rich belts their captive arms 

constrains 
(Late their proud ornaments, but now their 

chains) ; 
These his attendants to the ships convey'd, 
Sad victims ! destin'd to Patroclus' shade. 
Then, as once more he plunged amid the 

flood, 40 

The young Lycaon in his passage stood; 
The son of Priam, whom the hero's hand 
But late made captive in his father's land 
(As from a sycamore his sounding steel 
Lopp'd the green arms to spoke a chariot 

wheel). 
To Lemnos' isle he sold the royal slave, 
Where Jason's son the price demanded 

gave: 
But kind Eetion, touching on the shore, 
The ransom 'd Prince to fair Arisbe bore. 
Ten days were past, since in his father's 

reign 50 

He felt the sweets of liberty again : 
The next, that God whom men in vain 

withstand, 
Gives the same youth to the same con' 

quering hand: 
Now never to return ! and doom'd to go 
A sadder journey to the shades below. 
His well-known face when great Achilles 

eyed 
(The helm and vizor he had cast aside 



THE ILIAD 



487 



With wild affright, and dropp'd upon the 

field 
His useless lance and unavailing shield), 
As trembling, panting, from the stream he 

fled, 60 

And knock'd his falt'ring knees, the hero 

said: 
* Ye mighty Gods ! what wonders strike 

my view ! 
Is it in vain our conquering arms subdue ? 
Sure I shall see yon heaps of Trojans kill'd, 
Rise from the shade, and brave me on the 

field: 
As now the captive, whom so late I bound 
And sold to Lemnos, stalks on Trojan 

ground ! 
Not him the sea's unmeasur'd deeps de- 
tain, 
That bar such numbers from their native 

plain: 
Lo ! he returns. Try then my flying 



spear 



70 



Try, if the grave can hold the wanderer: 
If earth at length this active Prince can 

seize, 
Earth, whose strong grasp has held down 

Hercules.' 
Thus while he spake, the Trojan, pale 

with fears, 
Approach'd, and sought his knees with sup- 
pliant tears; 
Loath as he was to yield his youthful 

breath, 
And his soul shiv'ring at th' approach of 

death. 
Achilles rais'd the spear, prepared to 

wound; 
He kiss'd his feet, extended on the ground: 
And while above the spear suspended 

stood, 80 

Longing to dip its thirsty point in blood, 
One hand embraced them close, one stopp'd 

the dart; 
While thus these melting words attempt 

his heart: 
* Thy well-known captive, great Achilles ! 

see; 
Once more Lycaon trembles at thy knee; 
Some pity to a suppliant's name afford. 
Who shared the gifts of Ceres at thy 

board ; 
Whom late thy conquering arm to Lemnos 

bore, 
Far from his father, friends, and native 

shore; 



A hundred oxen. were his price that day, 90 
Now sums immense thy mercy shall repay. 
Scarce respited from woes I yet appear. 
And scarce twelve morning suns have seen 

me here: 
Lo ! Jove again submits me to thy hands. 
Again, her victim cruel Fate demands ! 
I sprung from Priam, and Laothoe fair 
(Old Altes' daughter, and Lelegia's heir; 
Who held in Pedasus his famed abode, 
And ruled the fields where silver Satnio 

flow'd); 99 

Two sons (alas! unhappy sons) she bore; 
For ah ! one spear shall drink each bro- 
ther's gore. 
And I succeed to slaughter'd Polydore. 
How from that arm of terror shall I fly ? 
Some demon urges, 't is my doom to die ! 
If ever yet soft pity touch'd thy mind. 
Ah ! think not me too much of Hector's 

kind ! 
Not the same mother gave thy suppliant 

breath. 
With his, who wrought thy lov'd Patroclus' 

death.' 
These words, attended with a shower of 

tears, 
The youth address'd to unrelenting ears: no 
' Talk not of life, or ransom ' (he replies), 
* Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies: 
In vain a single Trojan sues for grace; 
But least, the sons of Priam's hateful race. 
Die then, my friend ! what boots it to de- 
plore ? 
The great, the good Patroclus is no more! 
He, far thy better, was foredoom'd to die. 
And thou, dost thou bewail mortality? 
Seest thou not me, whom Nature's gifts 

adorn, 119 

Sprung from a Hero, from a Goddess born? 
The day shall come (which nothing can 

avert) 
When by the spear, the arrow, or the dart. 
By night, or day, by force or by design. 
Impending death and certain fate are mine. 
Die then:' he said, and as the word he 

spoke. 
The fainting stripling sunk before the 

stroke ; 
His hand forgot its grasp, and left the 

spear; 
While all his trembling frame confess'd 

his fear. 
Sudden Achilles his broad sword display'd, 
And buried in his neck the reeking blade. 



•488 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Prone fell the youth; and, panting on the 

land, 131 

The gushing purple dyed the thirsty sand: 
The victor to the stream the carcass gave. 
And thus insults him, floating on the wave: 
* Lie there, Lycaon ! let the fish surround 
Thy bloated corse, and suck thy gory 

wound : 
There no sad mother shall thy funerals 

weep. 
But swift Scaraander roll thee to the deep. 
Whose ev'ry wave some wat'ry monster 

brings. 
To feast unpunish'd on the fat of Kings. 140 
So perish Troy, and all the Trojan line ! 
Such ruin theirs, and such compassion 

mine. 
What boots ye now Scamander's worshipp'd 

stream. 
His earthly honours, and immortal name ? 
In vain your immolated bulls are slain, 
Your living coursers glut his gulfs in vain : 
Thus he rewards you with this bitter fate; 
Thus, till the Grecian vengeance is com- 
plete ; 
Thus is atoned Patroclus' honour'd shade. 
And the short absence of Achilles paid.' 150 
These boastful words provoke the raging 

God; 
With fury swells the violated flood. 
What means divine may yet the Power 

employ, 
To check Achilles, and to rescue Troy ? 
Meanwhile the hero springs in arms, to 

dare 
The great Asteropseus to mortal war; 
The son of Pelagon, whose lofty line 
Flows from the source of Axius, stream 

divine ! 158 

(Fair Peribcea's love the God had crown'd, 
With all his refluent waters circled round.) 
On him Achilles rush'd: he fearless stood, 
And shook two spears, advancing from the 

flood: 
The flood impell'd him, on Pelides' head 
T' avenge his waters choked with heaps of 

dead. 
Near as they drew, Achilles thus began: 
* What art thou, boldest of the race of man ? 
Who, or from whence ? Unhappy is the 

sire, 
Whose son encounters our resistless ire.' 

* O son of Peleus I what avails to trace ' 
(Replied the warrior) 'our illustrious 



race 



170 



From rich Pseonia's valleys I command, 
Arm'd with protended spears, my native 

band; 
Now shines the tenth bright morning since 

I came 
In aid of Ilion to the Fields of Fame: 
Axius, who swells with all the neighb'ring 

rills, 
And wide around the floated region fills. 
Begot my sire, whose spear such glory won: 
Now lift thy arm, and try that hero's son! ' 
Threat'ning he said: the hostile Chiefs 

advance; 179 

At once Asteropseus discharged each lance; 
(For both his dext'rous hands the lance 

could wield) ; 
One struck, but pierc'd not the Vulcanian 

shield ; 
One razed Achilles' hand; the spouting 

blood 
Spun forth, in earth the fasten'd weapon 

stood. 
Like lightning next the Pelian jav'lin flies; 
Its erring fury hiss'd along the skies; 
Deep in the swelling bank w^as driv'n the 

spear, 
Ev'n to the middle earth; and quiver'd 

there. 
Then from his side the sword Pelides drew. 
And on his foe with double fury flew; 190 
The foe thrice tugg'd, and shook the rooted 

wood. 
Repulsive of his might the weapon stood: 
The fourth, he tries to break the spear, in 

vain; 
Bent as he stands he tumbles to the plain; 
His belly open'd with a ghastly wound. 
The reeking entrails pour upon the ground. 
Beneath the hero's feet he panting lies. 
And his eye darkens, and his spirit flies: 
While the proud victor thus triumphing 

said, 199 

His radiant armour tearing from the dead: 

' So ends thy glory! such the fate they 

prove 
Who strive presumptuous with the sons of 

Jove. 
Sprung from a river didst thou boast thy 

line ? 
But great Saturnius is the source of mine. 
How durst thou vaunt thy wat'ry progeny ? 
Of Peleus, ^acus, and Jove, am I; 
The race of these superior far to those. 
As be that thunders to the stream that 

flows. 



THE ILIAD 



489 



What rivers can, Scamander might have 

shewn: 
But Jove he dreads, nor wars against his 

son. 210 

Ev'n Acheloiis might contend in vain, 
And all the roaring billows of the main. 
Th' eternal ocean, from whose fountains 

flow 
The seas, the rivers, and the springs below. 
The thund'ring voice of Jove abhors to 

hear, 
And in his deep abysses shakes with fear.' 
He said: then from the bank his jav'Iiu 

tore. 
And left the breathless warrior in his gore. 
The floating tides the bloody carcass lave. 
And beat against it, wave succeeding wave : 
Till, roll'd between the banks, it lies the 

food 221 

Of curling eels, and fishes of the flood. 
All scatter'd round the stream (their might- 
iest slain) 
Th' amazed Pfeonians scour along the plain: 
He vents his fury on the flying crew, 
Thrasius, Astypylus, and Mnesus, slew; 
Mydon, Thersilochus, with ^^nius fell; 
And numbers more his lance had plunged 

to Hell, 
But from the bottom of his gulfs profound, 
Scamander spoke; the shores return'd the 

sound: 230 

* O first of mortals (for the Gods are 

thine) ! 
In valour matchless, and in force divine! 
If Jove have giv'n thee ev'ry Trojan head, 
'T is not on me thy rage should heap the 

dead. 
See! my choked streams no more their 

course can keep. 
Nor roll their wonted tribute to the deep. 
Turn then, impetuous! from our injured 

flood; 
Content, thy slaughters could amaze a God.' 
In human form confess'd, before his 

eyes _ 239 

The River thus; and thus the Chief replies: 
*0 sacred stream! thy word we shall obey; 
But not till Troy the destin'd vengeance 

Nor till within her towers the perjnr'd train 
Shall pant, and tremble at our arms again ; 
Not till proud Hector, guardian of her wall. 
Or stain this lance, or see Achilles fall.' 

He said: and drove with fury on the foe. 
Then to the Godhead of the Silver Bow 



The yellow Flood began: *0 Son of Jove! 
Was not the mandate of the Sire above 
Full and express ? that Phcebus should em- 
ploy 251 
His sacred arrows in defence of Troy, 
And make her conquer, till Hyperion's fall 
In awful darkness hide the face of all ? ' 
He spoke in vain: the Chief without dis- 
may 
Ploughs thro' the boiling surge his des- 

p'rate way. 
Then, rising in his rage above the shores, 
From all his deep the bell' wing river roars; 
Huge heaps of slain disgorges on the coast. 
And round the banks the ghastly dead are 
toss'd; 260 

While all before, the billows ranged on 

high 
(A wat'ry bulwark) screen the bands who 

Now bursting on his head with thund ring 

sound, 
The falling deluge whelms the hero round: 
His loaded shield bends to the rushing tide; 
His feet, upborne, scarce the strong flood 

divide, 
Slidd'ring, and stagg'ring. On the border 

stood 
A spreading elm, that overhung the flood; 
He seiz'd a bending bough, his steps to 
stay ; 269 

The plant uprooted to his weight gave way, 
Heaving the bank, and undermining all; 
Loud flash the waters to the rushing fall 
Of the thick foliage. The large trunk dis- 
play 'd 
Bridg'd the rough flood across: the hero 

stayed 
On this his weight, and, rais'd upon his 

hand, 
Leap'd from the channel, and regain'd the 

land. 
Then blacken'd the wild waves; the mur- 
mur rose; 
The God pursues, a huger billow throws. 
And burst the bank, ambitious to destroy 
The man whose fury is the Fate of Troy. 280 
He, like the warlike eagle, speeds his pace 
(Swiftest and strongest of the aerial race). 
Far as a spear can fly, Achilles springs 
At every bound; his clanging armour rings: 
Now here, now there, he turns on ev'ry 

side. 
And winds his course before the foll'wing 
tide; 



490 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The waves flow after, wheresoe'er he 

wheels, 
And gather fast, and murmur at his heels. 
So when a peasant to his garden brings 
Soft rills of water from the bubbling 

springs, 290 

And calls the floods from high to bless his 

bowers, 
And feed with pregnant streams the plants 

and flowers; 
Soon as he clears whate'er their passage 

stay'd. 
And marks the future current with his 

spade, 
Swift o'er the rolling pebbles, down the 

hills 
Louder and louder purl the falling rills; 
Before him scatt'ring, they prevent his 

pains. 
And shine in mazy wand'rings o'er the 

plains. 29S 

Still flies Achilles, but before his eyes 
Still swift Scamander rolls where'er he flies: 
Not all his speed escapes the rapid floods; 
The first of men, but not a match for Gods: 
Oft as he turn'd the torrent to oppose. 
And bravely try if all the Powers were 

foes; 
So oft the surge, in wat'ry mountains 

spread, 
Beats on his back, or bursts upon his head. 
Yet dauntless still the adverse flood he 

braves. 
And still indignant bounds above the waves. 
Tired by the tides, his knees relax with 

toil; 
Wash'd from beneath him slides the slimy 

soil; 310 

When thus (his eyes on Heav'n's expansion 

thrown) 
Forth bursts the hero with an angry groan: 

' Is there no God Achilles to befriend. 
No power t' avert his miserable end ? 
Prevent, oh Jove! this ignominious date. 
And make my future life the sport of Fate : 
Of all Heav'n's oracles believ'd in vain, 
But most of Thetis, must her son complain: 
By Phoebus' darts she prophesied my fall. 
In glorious arms before the Trojan wall. 320 
Oh ! had I died in fields of battle warm, 
Stretch'd like a Hero, by a Hero's arm; 
Might Hector's spear this dauntless bosom 

rend. 
And my swift soul o'ertake my slaughter'd 

friend ! 



Ah no ! Achilles meets a shameful fate, 
Oh how unworthy of the brave and great ! 
Like some vile swain, whom, on a rainy 

day. 
Crossing a ford, the torrent sweeps away. 
An unregarded carcass to the sea.' 

Neptune and Pallas haste to his relief, 330 
And thus in human form address the Chief: 
The Power of Ocean first: 'Forbear thy 

fear, 
O son of Peleus ! lo, thy Gods appear ! 
Behold ! from Jove descending to thy aid, 
Propitious Neptune, and the Blue-eyed 

Maid. 
Stay, and the furious flood shall cease to 

rave: 
'T is not thy fate to glut his angry wave. 
But thou the counsel Heav'u suggests at- 
tend; 
Nor breathe from combat, nor thy sword 

suspend. 
Till Troy receive her flying sons, till all 340 
Her routed squadrons pant behind their 

wall: 
Hector alone shall stand his fatal chance, 
And Hector's blood shall smoke upon thy 

Ian ce ; 
Thine is the glory doom'd.' Thus spake 

the Gods: 
Then swift ascended to the bright abodes. 
Stung with new ardour, thus by Heav'n 

impell'd. 
He spi'ings impetuous, and invades the 

field: 
O'er all th' expanded plain the waters 

spread ; 
Heav'd on the bounding billows danc'd the 

dead. 
Floating 'midst scatter'd arms: while 

casques of gold, 350 

And turn'd-up bucklers, glitter'd as they 

roU'd. 
High o'er the surging tide, by leaps and 

bounds, 
He wades, and mounts; the parted wave 

resounds. 
Not a whole river stops the hero' course. 
While Pallas fills him with immortal force. 
With equal rage indignant Xantlius roars. 
And lifts his billows, and o'erwhelms his 

shores. 
Then thus to Si'mois: 'Haste, my bro- 
ther flood ! 
And check this mortal that controls a God: 
Our bravest heroes else shall quit the fight, 



THE ILIAD 



491 



And Ilion tumble from her tow'ry height. 361 
Call then thy subject streams, and bid 

them roar; 
From all thy fountains swell thy wat'ry 

store ; 
With broken rocks, and with a load of 

dead 
Charge the black surge, and pour it on his 

head. 
Mark how resistless thro' the floods he 

goes, 
And boldly bids the warring Gods be foes ! 
But nor that force, nor form divine to 

sight. 
Shall aught avail him, if our rage unite: 
Whelm'd under our dark gulfs those harms 

shall lie, 370 

That blaze so dreadful in each Trojan eye; 
And deep beneath a sandy mountain hurl'd, 
Immers'd remain this terror of the world. 
Such pond'rous ruin shall confound the 

place, 
No Greeks shall e'er his perish'd relics 

grace, 
No hand his bones shall gather or inhume; 
These his cold rites, and this his wat'ry 

tomb.' 
He said; and on the Chief descends amain, 
Increas'd with gore, and swelling with the 

slain. 
Then, murm'ring from his beds, he boils, 

he raves, 380 

And a foam whitens on the purple waves: 
At ev'ry step, before Achilles stood 
The crimson surge, and deluged him with 

blood. 
Fear touch'd the Queen of Heav'n: she 

saw dismay'd. 
She eall'd aloud, and summon'd Vulcan's 

aid. 
* Rise to the war ! th' insulting Flood re- 
quires 
Thy wasteful arm : assemble all thy fires ! 
While to their aid, by our command en- 

join'd. 
Rush the swift eastern and the western 

wind: 
These from old ocean at my word shall 

blow, 390 

Pour the red torrent on the wat'ry foe. 
Corses and arms to one bright ruin turn, 
And hissing rivers to their bottoms burn. 
Go, mighty in thy rage ! display thy power; 
Drink the whole flood, the crackling trees 

devour; 



Scorch all the banks ! and (till our voice 

reclaim) 
Exert th' unwearied furies of the flame ! ' 
The Power Ignipotent her word obeys: 
Wide o'er the plain he pours the boundless 

blaze; 
At once consumes the dead, and dries the 

soil ; 400 

And the shrunk waters in]their channel boil. 
As when autumnal Boreas sweeps the sky, 
And instant blows the water'd gardens dry : 
So look'd the field, so whiteu'd was the 

ground, 
While Vulcan breathed the fiery blast 

around. 
Swift on the sedgy reeds the ruin preys; 
Along the margin winds the running blaze: 
The trees in flaming rows to ashes turn, 
The flow'ry lotos and the tam'risk burn, 
Broad elm, and cypress rising in a spire; 
The wat'ry willows hiss before the fire. 411 
Now glow the waves, the fishes pant for 

breath : 
The eels lie twisting in the pangs of death: 
Now flounce aloft, now dive the scaly fry, 
Or gasping, turn their bellies to the sky. 
At length the River rear'd his languid head. 
And thus, short panting, to the God he 

said: 
' Oh Vulcan ! oh ! what Power resists 

thy might ? 

I faint, I sink, unequal to the fight 

I yield — let Ilion fall; if Fate de- 
cree 420 

Ah bend no more thy fiery arms on me ! ' 
He ceas'd; while, conflagration blazing 

round, 
The bubbling waters yield a hissing sound. 
As when the flames beneath a caldron rise, 
To melt the fat of some rich sacrifice, 
Amid the fierce embrace of circlino- fires 
The waters foam, the heavy smoke aspires: 
So boils th' imprison'd flood, forbid to flow, 
And, choked with vapours, feels his bottom 

glow. 
To Juno then, imperial Queen of Air, 430 
The burning River sends his earnest prayer: 
' Ah wh}', Saturnia ! must thy son engage 
Me, only me, with all his wasteful rage ? 
On other Gods his dreadful arm employ, 
For mightier Gods assert the cause of Troy. 
Submissive I desist, if thou command. 
But ah ! withdraw this all-destroying hand. 
Hear then my solemn oath, to yield to Fate 
Unaided Ilion, and her destin'd state, 



492 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Till Greece shall gird her with destructive 
flame, 440 

And in one ruin sink the Trojan name.' 
His warm entreaty touch'd Saturnia's 
ear: 

She bade th' Ignipotent his rage forbear, 

Recall the flame, nor in a mortal cause 

Infest a God: th' obedient flame withdraws: 

Again, the branching streams begin to 
spread, 

And soft re-murmur in their wonted bed. 
While these by Juno's will the strife 
resign. 

The warring Gods in fierce contention join: 

Rekindling rage each heav'nly breast 
alarms; 450 

With horrid clangour shock th' ethereal 
arms: 

Heav'n in loud thunder bids the trumpet 
sound; 

And wide beneath them groans the rending 
ground. 

Jove, as his sport, the dreadful scene de- 
scries, 

And views contending Gods with careless 
eyes. 

The Power of Battles lifts his brazen 
spear, 

And first assaults the radiant Queen of 
War. 
' What mov'd thy madness, thus to dis- 
unite 

Ethereal minds, and mix all Heav'n in 
fight ? 

What wonder this, when in thy frantic 
mood 460 

Thou drovest a mortal to insult a God ? 

Thy impious hand Tvdides' jav'lin bore. 

And madly bathed it in celestial gore.' 
He spoke, and smote the loud-resound- 
ing shield, 

Which bears Jove's thunder on its dread- 
ful field; 

The adamantine {egis of her sire. 

That turns the glancing bolt, and forked 
fire. 

Then heav'd the Goddess in her mighty 
hand 

A stone, the limit of the nelghb'ring land. 

There fix'd from eldest times; black, 
craggy, vast. 470 

This at the heav'nly homicide she cast. 

Thund'ring he falls; a mass of monstrous 
size. 

And sev'n broad acres covers as he lies. 



The stunning stroke his stubborn nerves 
unbound ; 

Loud o'er the fields his ringing arms re- 
sound: 

The scornful Dame her conquest views 
with smiles. 

And, glorying, thus the prostrate God re- 
viles: 

* Hast thou not yet, insatiate fury ! 

known 

How far Minerva's force transcends thy 
owm ? 

Juno, whom thou rebellious dar'st with- 
stand, 480 

Corrects thy folly thus by Pallas' hand; 

Thus meets thy broken faith with just dis- 
grace. 

And partial aid to Troy's perfidious race.' 
The Goddess spoke, and turn'd her eyes 
away, 

That, beaming round, diffused celestial 
day. 

Jove's Cyprian daughter, stooping on the 
land, • 

Lent to the wounded God her tender hand: 

Slowly he rises, scarcely breathes with 
pain. 

And propt on her fair arm forsakes the 
plain: 

This the bright Empress of the Heav'ns 
survey'd, 490 

And scoffing thus to War's victorious 
Maid : 

* Lo, what an aid on Mars's side is seen ! 
The smiles' and loves' unconquerable 

Queen ! 
Mark with what insolence, in open view, 
She moves: let Pallas, if she dares, pursue.* 
Minerva smiling heard, the pair o'ertook, 
And slightly on her breast the wanton 

struck: 
She, unresisting, fell (her spirits fled); 
On earth together lay the lovers spread. 
' And like these heroes, be the fate of 

all ' 500 

(Minerva cries) ' who guard the Trojan 

wall ! 
To Grecian Gods such let the Phrygian be, 
So dread, so fierce, as Venus is to me; 
Then from the lowest stone shall Troy be 

mov'd:' 
Thus she, and Juno with a smile approv'd. 
Meantime, to mix in more than mortal 

fight. 
The God of Ocean dares the God of Light. 



THE ILIAD 



493 



* What sloth has seiz'd us, when the fields 

around 
Ring with cottflicting Powers, and Heav'n 

returns the sound ? 509 

Shall, ignominious, we with shame retire, 
Xo deed perform'd, to our Olympian sire ? 
Come, prove thy arm ! for first the war to 

wage, 
Suits not my greatness, or superior age; 
Kash as thou art, to prop the Trojan ' 

throne 
(Forgetful of my wrongs, and of thy own), 
And guard the race of proud Laomedon!^ 
Hast thou forgot, how, at the Monarch's 

prayer. 
We shared the lengtheu'd lahours of a 

year ? 
Troy's walls I rais'd (for such were Jove's 

commands), 
And yon proud bulwarks grew beneath my 

hands; 520 

Thy task it was to feed the bell'wing 

droves 
Along fairlda's vales, and pendent groves. 
But when the circling seasons in their train 
Brought back the grateful day that crowu'd 

our pain; 
With menace stern the fraudful King de- 
fied 
Our latent Godhead, and the prize denied: 
Mad as he was, he threaten'd servile bands, 
And doom'd us exiles far in barb'rous 

lands. 
Incens'd, we heavenward fled with swiftest 

wing, 
And destin'd vengeance on the perjur'd 

King. _ 530 

Dost thou, for this, afford proud Ilion 

grace. 
And not, like us, infest the faithless race ? 
Like us, their present, future sons destroy. 
And from its deep foundations heave their 

Troy ? ' 
Apollo thus: ' To combat for mankind 
111 suits the wisdom of celestial mind: 
For what is man ? Calamitous by birth, 
They owe their life and nourishment to 

earth: 
Like yearly leaves, that now, with beauty 

crown'd, 
Smile on the sun; now, wither on the 

ground; 540 

To their own hands commit the frantic 

scene. 
Nor mix Immortals in a cause so mean.' 



Then turns his face, far beaming heav'uly 

fires, 
And from the senior Power submiss re- 
tires; 
Him, thus retreating, Artemis upbraids. 
The quiver'd Huntress of the sylvan 

Shades: 
* And is it thus the youthful Phcebus 

flies. 
And yields to Ocean's hoary Sire the 

prize ? 
How vain that martial pomp, and dreadful 

show 
Of pointed arrows, and the silver bow ! 550 
Xow boast no more in yon celestial bower. 
Thy force can match the great earth-shak- 
ing Power.' 
Silent he heard the Queen of Woods 

upbraid: 
Not so Saturnia bore the vaunting maid; 
But furious thus: ' What insolence has 

driv'u 
Thy pride to face the Majesty of Heav'n ? 
What tho' by Jove the female plague de- 

sign'd, 
Fierce to the feeble race of womankind. 
The wretched matron feels thy piercing 

dart; 
Thy sex's tyrant, with a tiger's heart ? 560 
What tho', tremendous in the woodland 

chase, 
Thy certain arrows pierce the savage race ? 
How dares thy rashness on the Powers 

divine 
Employ those arms, or match thy force 

with mine ? 
Learn hence, no more unequal war to 

wage ' — 
She said, and seiz'd her wrists with eager 

rage; 
These in her left hand lock'd, her right 

untied 
The bow, the quiver, and its plumy pride. 
About her temples flies the bus}' bow; 
Now here, now there, she winds her from 

the blow; 570 

The scatt'rmg arrows, rattling from the 

case, 
Drop round, and idly mark the dusty place. 
Swift from the field the baffled huntress 

flies, 
And scarce restrains the torrent in her 

eyes: 
So when the falcon wings her way above 
To the cleft cavern speeds the gentle dove 



494 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



(Not fated yet to die), there safe retreats, 
Yet still her heart against the marble 

beats. 
To her Latona hastes with tender care; 
Whom Hermes viewing thus declines the 

war: 580 

* How shall I face the Dame who gives 

delight 
To him whose thunders blacken Heav'n 

with night ? 
Go, matchless Goddess ! triumph in the 

skies, 
And boast my conquest, while I yield the 

prize.' 
He spoke, and pass'd: Latona, stooping 

low, 
Collects the scatter'd shafts, and fallen 

bow, 
That, glitt'ring on the dust, lay here and 

there ; 
Dishonour'd relics of Diana's war. 
Then swift pursued her to her blest abode, 
Where, all confused, she sought the sov'- 

reign God; 590 

Weeping she grasp'd his knees: th' ambro- 
sial vest 
Shook with her sighs, and panted on her 

breast. 
The Sire superior smiled; and bade her 

shew 
What heav'nly hand had caus'd his daugh- 
ter's woe? 
Abash'd she names his own imperial spouse; 
And the pale cresent fades upon her brows. 
Thus they above; while, swiftly gliding 

down, 
Apollo enters Ilion's sacred town: 
The guardian God now trembled for her 

wall, 
And fear'd the Greeks, tho' Fate forbade 

her fall. 600 

Back to Olympus, from the war's alarms. 
Return the shining bands of Gods in arms; 
Some proud in triumph, some with rage on 

fire; 
And take their thrones around th' ethereal 

Sire. 
Thro' blood, thro' death, Achilles still 

proceeds. 
O'er slaughter'd heroes, and o'er rolling 

steeds. 
As when avenging flames, with fury driv'n, 
On guilty towns exert the wrath of Heav'n; 
The pale inhabitants, some fall, some fly; 
And the red vapours purple all the sky: 610 



So raged Achilles: death, and dire dismay, 
And toils, and terror, fiU'd the dreadful 

day. 
High on a turret hoary Priam stands. 
And marks the waste of his destructive 

hands; 
Views, from his arm, the Trojans' scatter'd 

flight. 
And the near hero rising on his sight. 
No stop, no check, no aid ! With feeble 

pace, 
And settled sorrow on his aged face. 
Fast as he could, he sighing quits the 

walls ! 
And thus, descending, on the guards he 

calls: 620 

* You, to whose care our city gates be- 

long. 
Set wide your portals to the flying throng. 
For lo ! he comes, with unresisted sway; 
He comes, and desolation marks his way ! 
But when within the walls our troops take 

breath, 
Lock fast the brazen bars, and shut out 

death.' 
Thus charged the rev'rend Monarch: wide 

were flung 
The opening folds ! the sounding hinges 

rung. 
Phcebus rush'd forth, the flying bands to 

meet, 
Struck slaughter back, and cover'd the re- 
treat. 630 
On heaps the Trojans crowd to gain the 

gate, 
And gladsome see their last escape from 

Fate: 
Thither, all parch'd with thirst, a heart- 
less train. 
Hoary with dust, they beat the hollow 

plain; 
And gasping, panting, fainting, labour on 
AVith heavier strides, that lengthen tow'rd 

the town. 
Enraged Achilles follows with his spear; 
Wild with revenge, insatiable of war. 
Then had the Greeks eternal praise 

acquired, 
And Troy inglorious to her walls retired; 640 
But he, the God who darts ethereal flame. 
Shot down to save her, and redeem her 

fame. 
To young Agenor force divine he gave 
(Autenor's offspring, haughty, bold, and 

brave) : 



/ 



THE ILIAD 



495 



In aid of him, beside the beech he sat, 
And, wrapt in clouds, restrain'd the hand 

of Fate. 
When now the gen'rous youth Achilles 

spies, 
Thick beats his heart, the troubled motions 

rise 
(So, ere a storm, the waters heave and 

roll) : 
He stops, and questions thus his mighty 

soul: 650 

' What ! shall I fly this terror of the 

plain ? 
Like others fly, and be like others slain ? 
Vain hope ! to shun him by the self-same 

road 
Yon line of slaughter'd Trojans lately trod. 
No: with the common heap I scorn to 

fall — 
What if they pass'd me to the Trojan wall, 
While I decline to yonder path that leads 
To Ida's forests and surrounding shades ? 
So may I reach, conceal'd, the cooling 

flood, 
From my tired body wash the dirt and 

blood, 660 

And, soon as Xight her dusky veil extends, 
Return in safety to my Trojan friends. 
What if — ? But wherefore all this vain 

debate ? 
Stand I to doubt within the reach of Fate ? 
Ev'n now perhaps, ere yet I turn the wall, 
The fierce Achilles sees me, and I fall: 
Such is his swiftness, 't is in vain to fly. 
And such his valour, that who stands must 

die. 
Howe'er 't is better, fighting for the state, 
Here, and in public view, to meet my 

fate. 670 

Yet sure he too is mortal; he may feel 
(Like all the sons of earth) the force of 

steel : 
One only soul informs that dreadful frame; 
And Jove's sole favour gives him all his 

fame.' 
He said, and stood, collected in his 

might; 
And all his beating bosom claim 'd the fight. 
So from some deep-grown wood a panther 

starts, 
Rous'd from his thicket by a storm of 

darts: 
Untaught to fear or fly, he hears the sounds 
Of shouting hunters, and of clam'rous 

hounds ; 680 



Tho' struck, tho' wounded, scarce perceives 

the pain. 
And the barb'd jav'lin stings his breast in 

vain; 
On their whole war, untamed the savage 

flies; 
And tears his hunter, or beneath him dies. 
Not less resolv'd Antenor's valiant heir 
Confronts Achilles, and awaits the war, 
Disdainful of retreat: high-held before. 
His shield (a broad circumference) he 

bore; 

Then, graceful as he stood, in act to throw 

The lifted jav'lin, thus bespoke the foe: 690 

' How proud Achilles glories in his fame! 

And hopes this day to sink the Trojan 

name 
Beneath her ruins ! Know, that hope is 

vain; 
A thousand woes, a thousand toils, remain. 
Parents and children our just arms employ. 
And strong, and many, are the sons of 

Troy : 
Great as thou art, ev'n thou may'st stain 

with gore 
These Phrygian fields, and press a foreign 

shore.' 
He said; with matchless force the jav'lin 

flunof 
Smote on his knee, the hollow cuishes 

rung -co 

Beneath the pointed steel; but safe from 

harms 
He stands impassive in th' ethereal arms. 
Then, fiercely rushing on the daring foe, 
His lifted arm prepares the fatal blow; 
But, jealous of his fame, Apollo shrouds 
The godlike Trojan in a veil of clouds: 
Safe from pursuit, and shut from mortal 

view, 
Dismiss'd with fame, the favour'd youth 

withdrew. 
Meanwhile the God, to cover their escape, 
Assumes Agenor's habit, voice, and shape, 
Flies from the furious Chief in this dis- 
guise; 711 
The furious Chief still follows where he 

flies. 
Now o'er the fields they stretch with 

lengthen'd strides, 
Now urge the course where swift Sca- 

mander glides: 
The God, now distant scarce a stride before, 
Tempts his pursuit, and wheels about the 

shore, 



496 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



While all the flying troops their speed em- 

ploy, 

And pour on heaps into the walls of Troy : 

No stop, no stay: no thought to ask or tell, 

Who 'scaped by flight, or who by battle 
fell. 720 

'Twas tumult all, and violence of flight; 

And sudden joy confused, and mix'd af- 
fright : 

Pale Troy against Achilles shuts her gate; 

And nations breathe, deliver'd from their 
Fate. 



BOOK XXII 

THE DEATH OF HECTOR 
THE ARGUMENT 

The Trojans being- safe within the walls, Hec- 
tor only stays to oppose Achilles. Priam is 
struck at his approach, and tries to persuade 
his son to re-enter the town. Hecuba joins 
her entreaties, but in vain. Hector consults 
within himself what measures to take ; but, 
at the advance of Achilles, his resolution 
fails him, and he flies : Achilles pursues 
him' thrice round the walls of Troy. The 
Gods debate concerning the fate of Hector ; 
at leng-th Minerva descends to the aid of 
Achilles. She deludes Hector in the shape 
of De'iphobus ; he stands the combat, and is 
slain. Achilles drag-s the dead body at his 
chariot, in the sight of Priam and Hecuba. 
Their lamentations, tears, and despair. Their 
cries reach the ears of Andromache, who, 
ignorant of this, was retired into the inner 
part of the palace ; she mounts up to the 
walls, and beholds her dead husband. She 
swoons at the spectacle. Her excess of grief 
and lamentation. 

The thirtieth day still continues. Tlie scene 
lies under the walls, and on the battlements 
of Troy. 

Thus to their bulwarks, smit with panic 

fear, 
The herded Ilians rush like driven deer; 
There safe, they wipe the briny drops 

away. 
And drown in bowls the labours of the day. 
Close to the walls, advancing o'er the fields. 
Beneath one roof of well-compacted shields, 
March, bending on, the Greeks' embodied 

powers. 
Far-stretching in the shade of Trojan 

towers. 



Great Hector singly stay'd; chain'd down 

by Fate, 
There fix'd he stood before the Scaean 

gate ; 10 

Still his bold arms determin'd to employ, 
The guardian still of long-defended Troy. 

Apollo now to tired Achilles turns 
(The Power confess'd in all his glory 

burns), 
' And what ' (he cries) ' has Peleus' son in 

view, 
With mortal speed a Godhead to pursue ? 
For not to thee to know the Gods is giv'n, 
Unskill'd to trace the latent marks of 

Heav'n. 
What boots thee now, that Troy forsook 

the plain ? 19 

Vain thy past labour, and thy present 

vain: 
Safe in their walls are now her troops 

bestow'd. 
While here thy frantic rage attacks a 

God.' 
The Chief incens'd: 'Too partial God of 

Day! 
To check my conquest in the middle 

way: 
How few in Hion else had refuge found ! 
What gasping numbers now had bit the 

ground ! 
Thou robb'st me of a glory justly mine. 
Powerful of Godhead, and of fraud divine: 
Mean fame, alas ! for one of heav'nly 

strain. 
To cheat a mortal who repines in vain.* 30 

Then to the city, terrible and strong. 
With high and haughty steps he tower'd 

along: 
So the proud courser, victor of the prize, 
To the near goal with double ardour flies. 
Him, as he blazing shot across the field, 
The careful eyes of Priam first beheld. 
Not half so dreadful rises to the sight. 
Thro' the thick gloom of some tempestuous 

night, 
Orion's dog (the year when autumn 

weighs), 
And o'er the feebler stars exerts his rays; 40 
Terrific glory ! for his burning breath 
Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and 

death. 
So flamed his fiery mail. Then wept the 

sage: 
He strikes his rev'rend head, now white 

with age ; 



THE ILIAD 



497 



He lifts his wither'd arms; obtests the 

skies; 
He calls his miich-lov'd son with feeble 

cries: 
The son, resolv'd Achilles' force to dare, 
Full at the Scaean gate expects the war: 
While the sad father on the rampart 

stands, 49 

And thus adjures him with extended hands: 

* Ah stay not, stay not ! guardless and 

alone ; 
Hector, my lov'd, my dearest, bravest son ! 
Methinks already I behold thee slain, 
And streteh'd beneath that fury of the 

plain. 
Implacable Achilles ! might'st thou be 
To all the Gods no dearer than to me ! 
Thee, vultures wild should scatter round 

the shore, 
And bloody dogs grow fiercer from thy gore ! 
How many valiant sons I late en joy 'd, 
Valiant in vain ! by thy curs'd arm de- 

stroy'd : 60 

Or, worse than slaughter'd, sold in distant 

isles 
To shameful bondage and unworthy toils. 
Two, while I speak, my eyes in vain ex- 
plore. 
Two from one mother sprung, my Poly- ^ 

dore 
And loved Lycaon; now perhaps no more ! 
Oh ! if in yonder hostile camp they live, 
What heaps of gold, what treasures would 

I give ! 
(Their grandsire's wealth, by right of birth 

their own, 
Consign'd his daughter with Lelegia's 

throne) : 69 

But if (which Heav'n forbid) already lost. 
All pale they wander on the Stygian coast, 
What sorrows then must their sad mother 

know, 
What anguish I ! unutterable woe ! 
Yet less that anguish, less to her, to me. 
Less to all Troy, if not deprived of thee. 
Yet shun Achilles ! enter yet the wall ; 
And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all ! 
Save thy dear life : or if a soul so brave 
Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save. 
Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs; 80 
While yet thy father feels the woes he 

bears, 
Yet curs'd with sense ! a wretch, whom in 

his rage 
(All trembling on the verge of helpless age) 



Great Jove has placed, sad spectacle of 

pain ! 
The bitter dregs of fortune's cup to drain: 
To fill with scenes of death his closing 

eyes, 
And number all his days by miseries ! 
My heroes slain, my bridal bed o'erturn'd, 
My daughters ravish'd, and my city burn'd, 
My bleeding infants dash'd against the 

floor; 90 

These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more ! 
Perhaps ev'n I, reserv'd by angry Fate 
The last sad relic of my ruin'd state 
(Dire pomp of sovereign wretchedness !), 

must fall 
And stain the pavement of my regal hall; 
Where famish'd dogs, late guardians of my 

door, 
Shall lick their mangled master's spatter'd 

gore. 
Yet for my sons I thank ye, Gods ! 't was 

well: 
Well have they perish'd, for in fight they 

fell. 
Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the 

best, 100 

Struck thro' with wounds, all honest on 

the breast. 
But when the Fates, in fulness of their 

rage, 
Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, 
In dust the rev'rend lineaments deform, 
And pour to dogs the life-blood scarcely 

warm; 
This, this is misery ! the last, the worst, 
That man can feel: man, fated to be 

curs'd ! ' 
He said, and acting what no words could 

say. 
Rent from his head the silver locks away. 
With him the mournful mother bears a 

part: no 

Yet all their sorrows turn not Hector's 

heart: 
The zone unbraced, her bosom she dis- 

play'd; 
And thus, fast-falling the salt tears, she 

said : 
' Have mercy on me, O my son ! revere 
The words of age ; attend a parent's prayer ! 
If ever thee in these fond arms I press'd. 
Or still'd thy infant clamours at this 

breast; 
Ah ! do not thus our helpless years forego, 
But, by our walls secured, repel the foe. 



498 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Against his rage if singly thou proceed, 120 
Should'st thou (but Heav'n avert it !) 

should'st thou bleed, 
Nor must thy corse lie honour'd on the 

bier, 
Nor spouse, nor mother, grace thee with a 

tear; 
Far from our pious rites, those dear re- 
mains 
Must feast the vultures on the naked 

plains.' 
So they, while down their cheeks the 

torrents roll: 
But fix'd remains the purpose of his soul; 
Resolv'd he stands, and with a fiery glance 
Expects the hero's terrible advance. 129 

So, roU'd up in his den, the swelling snake 
Beholds the traveller approach the brake; 
When, fed with noxious herbs, his turgid 

veins 
Have gather'd half the poisons of the 

plains; 
He burns, he stiffens with collected ire, 
And his red eyeballs glare with living 

fire. 
Beneath a turret, on his shield reclin'd. 
He stood, and question'd thus his mighty 

mind : 
* Where lies, my way ? To enter in the 

wall? 
Honour and shame th' ungen'rous thought 

recall : 
Shall proud Polydamas before the gate 140 
Proclaim, his counsels are obey'd too late, 
Which timely follow'd but the former 

night, 
What numbers had been saved by Hector's 

flight ? 
That wise advice rejected with disdain, 
I feel my folly in my people slain. 
Methinks my suff'ring country's voice I 

hear. 
But most, her worthless sons insult my 

ear. 
On my rash courage charge the chance of 

war, 
And blame those virtues which they can- 
not share. 
No — If I e'er return, return I must 150 
Glorious, my country's terror laid in dust: 
Or if I perish, let her see my fall 
In field at least, and fighting for her wall. 
And yet suppose these measures I forego. 
Approach unarm'd, and parley with the 

foe, 



The warrior-shield, the helm, and lance lay 

down. 
And treat on terms of peace to save the 

town : 
Tlie wife withheld, the treasure ill-de- 

tain'd 
(Cause of the war, and grievance of the 

land). 
With honourable justice to restore; 160 

And add half Iliou's yet remaining store, 
Which Troy shall, sworn, produce; that 

injur'd Greece 
May share our wealth, and leave our walls 

in peace. 
But why this thought ? unarm'd if I ' 

should go, 
What hope of mercy from this vengeful 

foe. 
But woman-like to fall, and fall without 

a blow ? 
We greet not here, as man conversing 

man. 
Met at an oak, or journeying o'er a plain; 
No season now for calm, familiar talk. 
Like youths and maidens in an ev'ning 

walk: 170 

War is our business, but to whom is 

giv'n 
To die or triumph, that determine Heav'n! ' 
Thus pondering, like a God the Greek 

drew nigh: 
His dreadful plumage nodded from on 

The Pelian jav'lin, in his better hand. 
Shot trembling rays that glitter'd o'er the 

land ; 
And on his breast the beamy splendours 

shone 
Like Jove's own lightning, or the rising 

sun. 
As Hector sees, unusual terrors rise, 
Struck by some God, he fears, recedes, and 

flies: 180 

He leaves the gates, he leaves the walls 

behind; 
Achilles follows like the winged wind. 
Thus at the panting dove the falcon flies 
(The swiftest racer of the liquid skies) ; 
Just when he holds, or thinks he holds, his 

prey. 
Obliquely wheeling thro' th' aerial way, 
With open beak and shrilling cries he 

springs. 
And aims his claws, and shoots upon his 

wings : 



THE ILIAD 



499 



No less fore-right the rapid chase they 

held, 189 

One urged by fury, one by fear impell'd; 
Now circling round the walls their course 

maintain, 
Where the high watch-tower overlooks the 

plain ; 
Now where the fig-trees spread their um- 

brasre broad 
(A wider compass), smoke along the road. 
Next by Scaraander's double source they 

bound. 
Where two famed fountains burst the 

parted ground: 
This hot thro' scorching clefts is seen to 

rise, 
With exhalations steaming to the skies; 
That the green banks in summer's heat 

o'erflows, 
Like crystal clear, and cold as winter 

snows. 200 

Each gushing fount a marble cistern fills, 
Whose polish'd bed receives the falling 

rills ; 
Where Trojan dames (ere yet alarm'd by 

Greece) 
Wash'd their fair garments in the days of 

peace. 
By these they pass'd, one chasing, one in 

flight 
(The mighty fled, pursued by stronger 

might); 
Swift was the course; no vulgar prize they 

play, 
No vulgar victim must reward the day 
(Such as in races crown the speedy strife) ; 
The prize contended was great Hector's 

life. 210 

As when some hero's funerals are de- 
creed, 
In grateful honour of the mighty dead; 
Where high rewards the vig'rous youth 

inflame 
(Some golden tripod, or some lovely dame), 
The panting coursers swiftly turn the 

goal, 
And with them turns the rais'd spectator's 

soul: 
Thus three times round the Trojan wall 

they fly; 
The gazing Gods lean forward from the 

sky: 
To whom, while eager on the chase they 

look, 219 

The Sire of mortals and immortals spoke: 



* Unworthy sight ! the man, belov'd of 

Heav'n, 

Behold, inglorious round yon city driv'n ! 

My heart partakes the gen'rous Hector's 
pain; 

Hector, whose zeal whole hecatombs has 
slain. 

Whose grateful fumes the Gods receiv'd 
with joy, 

From Ida's summits, and the towers of 
Troy: 

Now see him flying ! to his fears resign'd. 

And Fate, and fierce Achilles, close be- 
hind. 

Consult, ye Powers ('t is worthy your de- 
bate) 

Whether to snatch him from impending 
Fate, 230 

Or let him bear, by stern Pelides slain 

((lood as he is), the lot imposed on man ? ' 
Then Pallas thus: 'Shall he whose ven- 
geance forms 

The forky bolt, and blackens Heav'n with 
storms. 

Shall he prolong one Trojan's forfeit 
breath, 

A man a mortal, pre-ordain'd to death ? 

And will no murmurs fill the courts above ? 

No Gods indignant blame their partial 
Jove ? ' 

* Go then' (return'd the Sire), 'without 

delay ; 
Exert thy will: I give the Fates their 

way.' 240 

Swift at the mandate pleas'd Tritonia flies, 
And stoops impetuous from the cleaving 

skies. 
As thro' the forest, o'er the vale and 

lawn. 
The well-breathed beagle drives the flying 

fawn ; 
In vain he tries the covert of the bpakes, 
Or deep beneath the trembling thicket 

shakes: 
Sure of the vapour in the tainted dews, 
The certain hound his various maze pur- 
sues: 
Thus step by step, where'er the Trojan 

wheel'd, 
There swift Achilles compass'd round the 

field. 250 

Oft as to reach the Dardan gates he 

bends, 
And hopes th' assistance of his pitying 

friends 



500 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



(Whose show'rijig arrows, as he cours'd 
below, 

From the high turrets might oppress the 
foe), 

So oft Achilles turns him to the plain: 

He eyes the city, but he eyes in vain. 

As men in slumbers seem with speedy 
pace 

One to pursue, and one to lead the chase, 

Their sinking limbs the fancied course for- 
sake, 

Nor this can fly, nor that can overtake : 260 

No less the lab'ring heroes pant and strain; 

While that but flies, and this pursues, in 
vain. 
What God, O Muse ! assisted Hector's 
force, 

With Fate itself so long to hold the course ? 

PhcEbus it was: who, in his latest hour, 

Endued his knees with strength, his nerves 
with power; 

And great Achilles, lest some Greek's 
advance 

Should snatch the glory from his lifted 
lance, 

Sign'd to the troops, to yield his foe the 
way, 

And leave untouch 'd the honours of the 

day. 270 

Jove lifts the golden balances, that show 

The fates of mortal men, and things below: 

Here each contending hero's lot he tries. 

And weighs, with equal hand, their des- 
tinies. 

Low sinks the scale surcharg'd with Hec- 
tor's fate; 

Heavy with death it sinks, and Hell re- 
ceives the weight. 
Then Phcebus left him. Fierce Minerva 
flies 

To stern Pelides, and, triumphing, cries: 

* Oh lov'd of Jove ! this day our labours 
cease. 

And conquest blazes with full beams on 
Greece. 280 

Great Hector falls; that Hector famed so 
far. 

Drunk with renown, insatiable of war, 

Falls by thy hand, and mine ! nor force nor 
flight 

Shall more avail him, nor his God of Light. 

See, where in vain he supplicates above, 

Roll'd at the feet of unrelenting Jove ! 

Rest here: myself will lead the Trojan on, 

And urge to meet the fate he cannot shun.* 



Her voice divine the Chief with joyful 
mind 
Obey'd, and rested, on his lance reclin'd. 290 
While like Deiphobus the Martial Dame 
(Her face, her gesture, and her arms, the 

same). 
In show an aid, by hapless Hector's side 
Approach'd, and greets him thus with voice 
belied: 
* Too long, O Hector ! have I borne the 
sight 
Of this distress, and sorrow'd in thy flight: 
It fits us now a noble stand to make. 
And here, as brothers, equal fates par- 
take.' 
Then he : ' O Prince ! allied in blood and 
lame, 299 

Dearer than all that own a brother's name; 
Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore. 
Long tried, long lov'd; much lov'd, but 

honour'd more ! 
Since you of all our numerous race alone 
Defend my life, regardless of your own.' 
Again the Goddess: 'Much my father's 
prayer, 
And much my mother's, press'd me to for- 
bear: 
My friends embraced my knees, adjured 

my stay. 
But stronger love impell'd, and I obey. 
Come then, the glorious conflict let us try, 
Let the steel sparkle and the jav'linfly; 310 
Or let us stretch Achilles on the field. 
Or to his arm our bloody trophies yield.' 
Fraudful she said; then swiftly march'd 
before; 
The Dardan hero shuns his foe no more. 
Sternly they met. The silence Hector 

broke; 
His dreadful plumage nodded as he spoke: 
' Enough, O son of Peleus ! Troy has 
view'd 
Her walls thrice circled, and her Chief 

pursued. 
But now some God within me bids me try 
Thine, or my fate: I kill thee, or I die. 320 
Yet on the verge of battle let us stay, 
And for a moment's space suspend the 

day: 
Let Heav'n's high Powers be call'd to arbi- 
trate 
The just conditions of this stern debate 
(Eternal witnesses of all below, 
And faithful guardians of the treasured 
vow)! 



THE ILIAD 



501 



To them I swear : if, victor in the strife, 
Jove by these hands shall shed thy noble 

life, 
No vile dishonour shall thy corse pursue; 
Stripp'd of its arras alone (the conqueror's 

due), 330 

The rest to Greece uninjur'd I '11 restore : 
Now plight thy mutual oath, I ask no 

more.' 
' Talk not of oaths ' (the dreadful Chief 

replies, 
While anger flash'd from his disdainful 

eyes), 
* Detested as thou art, and ought to be, 
Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with 

thee; 
Such pacts, as lambs and rabid wolves 

combine, 
Such leagues, as men and furious lions 

join. 
To such I call the Gods ! one constant 

state 
Of lasting rancour and eternal hate: 340 
No thought but rage, and never-ceasing 

strife. 
Till death extinguish rage, and thought, 

and life. 
Rouse then thy forces this important hour, 
Collect thy soul, and call forth all thy 

power. 
No farther subterfuge, no farther chance; 
'Tis Pallas, Pallas gives thee to my lance. 
Each Grecian ghost by thee deprived of 

breath. 
Now hovers round, and calls thee to thy 

death.' 
He spoke, and launch'd his jav'lin at the 

foe; 
But Hector shunn'd the meditated blow: 350 
He stoop'd, while o'er his head the flying 

spear 
Sung innocent, and spent its force in air. 
Minerva watch'd it falling on the land. 
Then drew, and gave to great Achilles' 

hand. 
Unseen of Hector, who, elate with joy. 
Now shakes his lance, and braves the dread 

of Troy: 
' The life you boasted to that jav'lin giv'n. 
Prince ! you have miss'd. My fate de- 
pends on Heav'n. 
To thee (presumptuous as thou art) un- 
known 
Or what must prove my fortune, or thy 

own. 360 



Boasting is but an art, our fears to blind. 
And with false terrors sink another's mind. 
But know, whatever fate I am to try, 
By no dishonest wound shall Hector die; 
I shall not fall a fugitive at least. 
My soul shall bravely issue from my breast. 
But first, try thou my arm; and may this 

dart 
End all my country's woes, deep buried in 

thy heart ! ' 
The weapon flew, its course unerring 

held; 369 

Unerring, but the heav'nly shield repell'd 
The mortal dart; resulting with a bound 
From off the ringing orb, it struck the 

ground. 
Hector beheld his jav'lin fall in vain, 
Nor other lance nor other hope remain; 
He calls Deiphobus, demands a spear. 
In vain, for no Deiphobus was there. 
All comfortless he stands: then, with a 

sigh, 
' 'Tis so — Heav'n wills it, and my hour is 

nigh ! 
I deem'd Deiphobus had heard my call, 
But he secure lies guarded in the wall. 380 
A God deceiv'd me; Pallas, 'twas thy 

deed: 
Death and black Fate approach I 't is I 

must bleed: 
No refuge now, no succour from above, 
Great Jove deserts me, and the son of 

Jove, 
Propitious once, and kind ! Then welcome 

Fate! 
'Tis true I perish, yet I perish great: 
Yet in a mighty deed I shall expire. 
Let future ages hear it, and admire ! ' 
Fierce, at the word, his weighty sword 

he drew, 
And, all collected, on Achilles flew. 390 

So Jove's bold bird, high balanc'd in the 

air. 
Stoops from the clouds to truss the quiv'ring 

hare. 
Nor less Achilles his fierce soul prepares; 
Before his breast the flaming shield he 

bears. 
Refulgent orb ! above his fourfold cone 
The gilded horse-hair sparkled in the sun. 
Nodding at ev'ry step (Vulcanian frame)! 
And as he mov'd, his figure seem'd on 

flame. 
As radiant Hesper shines with keener light, 
Far-beaming o'er the silver host of night, 



502 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



When all the starry train emblaze the 

sphere: 401 

So shone the point of great Achilles' spear. 
In his right hand he waves the weapon 

round, 
Eyes the whole man, and meditates the 
• wound : 

But the rich mail Patroclus lately wore, 
Securely cased the warrjior's body o'er. 
One place at length he spies, to let in Fate, 
Where 'twixt the neck and throat the 

jointed plate 
Gave entrance: thro' that penetrable part 
Furious he drove the well-directed dart: 410 
Nor pierc'd the windpipe yet, nor took the 

power 
Of speech, unhappy ! from thy dying hour. 
Prone on the field the bleeding warrior lies. 
While thus, triumphing, stern Achilles 

cries: 
*At last is Hector stretch'd upon the 

plain. 
Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus 

slain : 
Then, Prince ! you should have fear'd, 

what now you feel; 
Achilles absent was Achilles still. 
Yet a short space the great avenger stay'd, 
Then low in dust thy strength and glory 

laid. 420 

Peaceful he sleeps, with all our rites adorn'd, 
For ever honour'd, and for ever mourn'd: 
While, cast to all the rage of hostile power. 
Thee birds shall mangle, and thee dogs 

devour.' 
Then Hector, fainting at th' approach of 

death: 

* By thy own soul ! by those who gave thee 

breath ! 

By all the sacred prevalence of prayer; 

Ah, leave me not for Grecian dogs to tear ! 

The common rites of sepulture bestow, 429 

To soothe a father's and a mother's woe; 

Let their large gifts procure an urn at 
least. 

And Hector's ashes in his country rest.' 
* No, wretch accurs'd ! ' relentless he re- 
plies 

(Flames, as he spoke, shot flashing from 
his eyes), 

* Not those who gave me breath should bid 

me spare, 
Nor all the sacred prevalence of prayer. 
Could I myself the bloody banquet join ! 
No — to the dogs that carcass I resign. 



Should Troy to bribe me bring forth all 

her store, 
And, giving thousands, offer thousands 

more ; 440 

Should Dardan Priam, and his weeping 

dame, 
Drain their whole realm to buy one funeral 

flame; 
Their Hector on the pile they should not 

see. 
Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee.' 
Then thus the Chief his dying accents 

drew: 
' Thy rage, implacable ! too well I knew: 
The Furies that relentless breast have 

steel'd. 
And ours'd thee with a heart that cannot 

yield. 
Yet think, a day will come, when Fate's 

decree 
And angry Gods shall wreak this wrong on 

thee; 450 

Phoebus and Paris shall avenge my fate, 
And stretch thee here, before this Scsean 

gate.' 
He ceas'd: the Fates suppress'd his la- 

b'ring breath, 
And his eyes stiff'en'd at the hand of 

death; 
To the dark realm the spirit wings its way 
(The manly body left a load of clay). 
And plaintive glides along the dreary 

coast, 
A naked, wand 'ring, melancholy ghost ! 
Achilles, musing as he roU'd his eyes 
O'er the dead hero, thus (unheard) re- 
plies: 460 

* Die thou the first ! when Jove and Heav'n 

ordain, 

I follow thee.' He said, and stripp'd the 
slain. 

Then, forcing backward from the gaping 
wound 

The reeking jav'lin, cast it on the ground. 

Tlie thronging Greeks behold with won- 
d'ring eyes 

His manly beauty and superior size: 

While some, ignobler, the great dead de- 
face , 

With wounds ungen'rous, or with taunts 
disgrace. 

* How changed that Hector ! who, like 

Jove, of late 
Sent lightning on our fleets and scatter'd 
Fate ! ' 470 



THE ILIAD 



503 



High o'er the slain the great Achilles 

stands, 
Begirt with heroes and surrounding bands; 
And thus aloud, while all the host attends: 
* Princes and leaders ! countrymen and 

friends ! 
Since now at length the powerful will of 
• Heav'n 

The dire destroyer to our arm has giv'n, 
Is not Troy fall'n already ? Haste, ye 

Powers ! 
See if already their deserted towers 
Are left unniann'd ; or if they yet retain 
The souls of heroes, their great Hector 

slain ? 480 

But what is Troy, or glory what to me ? 
Or why reflects my mind on aught but 

thee. 
Divine Patroclus ! Death has seal'd his 

eyes; 
Unwept, unhonour'd, uninterr'd he lies ! 
Can his dear image from my soul depart. 
Long as the vital spirit moves my heart ? 
If, in the melancholy shades below, 
The flames of friends and lovers cease to 

glow. 
Yet mine shall sacred last; mine, unde- 

cay'd. 
Burn on thro' death, and animate my 

shade. 490 

Meanwhile, ye sons of Greece, in triumph 

bring 
The corse of Hector, and your Paeans 

sing. 
Be this the song, slow moving tow'rd the 

shore, 
" Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more." ' 
Then his fell soul a thought of vengeance 

bred 
(Unworthy of himself, and of the dead) ; 
The nervous ancles bored, his feet he 

bound 
With thongs inserted thro' the double 

wound; 
These fix'd up high behind the rolling 

wain. 
His graceful head was trail'd along the 

plain. 500 

Proud on his car th' insulting victor stood, 
And bore aloft his arms, distilling blood. 
He smites the steeds ; the rapid chariot 

flies; 
The sudden clouds of circling dust arise. 
Now lost is all that formidable air; 
The face divine, and long-descending hair, 



Purple the ground, and streak the sable 

sand ; 
Deform'd, dishonour'd, in his native land ! 
Giv'n to the rage of an insulting throng ! 
And, in his parents' sight, now dragg'd 

along. 510 

The motlier first beheld with sad sur- 
vey; 
She rent her tresses, venerably grey. 
And cast far off the regal veils away. 
With piercing shrieks his bitter fate she 

moans. 
While the sad father answers groans with 

groans ; 
Tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'er- 

flow, 
And the whole city wears one face of woe: 
No less than if the rage of hostile fires, 
From her foundations curling to her spires, 
O'er the proud citadel at length should 

rise, 520 

And the last blaze send Ilion to the skies. 
The wretched Monarch of the falling state, 
Distracted, presses to the Dardan gate: 
Scarce the whole people stop his desp'rate 

course. 
While strong affliction gives the feeble 

force : 
Grief tears his heart, and drives him to 

and fro. 
In all the raging impotence of woe. 
At length he roll'd in dust, and thus 

begun, 
Imploring all, and naming one by one: 
' Ah ! let me, let me go where sorrow 

calls; 530 

I, only I, will issue from your walls 
(Guide or companion, friends ! I ask ye 

none), 
And bow before the raurd'rer of my son: 
My grief perhaps his pity may engage; 
Perhaps at least he may respect my age. 
He has a father too; a man like me; 
One not exempt from age and misery 
(Vig'rous no more, as when his young em- 
brace 
Begot this pest of me, and all my race). 
How many valiant sons, in early bloom, 540 
Has that curs'd hand sent headlong to the 

tomb ! 
Thee, Hector ! last; thy loss (divinely 

brave) ! 
Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave. 
Oh had thy gentle spirit pass'd in peace. 
The son expiring in the sire's embrace, 



5^4 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



While both thy parents wept thy fatal 

hour, 
And, bending o'er thee, mix'd the tender 

shower ! 
Some comfort that had been, some sad 

relief, 
To melt in full satiety of grief ! ' 

Thus wail'd the father, grov'ling on the 

ground, 550 

And all the eyes of Ilion stream'd around. 

Amidst her matrons Hecuba appears 
(A mourning Princess, and a train in 

tears) : 
* Ah ! why has Heav'n prolong'd this hated 

breath. 
Patient of horrors, to behold thy death ? 
O Hector ! late thy parents' pride and joy. 
The boast of nations ! the defence of Troy ! 
To whom her safety and her fame she 

owed. 
Her Chief, her hero, and almost her God ! 
O fatal change ! become in one sad day 560 
A senseless corse ! inanimated clay ! ' 

But not as yet the fatal news had spread 
To fair Andromache, of Hector dead ; 
As yet no messenger had told his Fate, 
Nor ev'n his stay without the Scsean gate. 
Far in the close recesses of the dome 
Pensive she plied the melancholy loom; 
A growing work employ'd her secret hours. 
Confusedly gay with intermingled flowers. 
Her fair-hair'd handmaids heat the brazen 

urn, 570 

The bath preparing for her lord's return : 
In vain: alas ! her lord returns no more ! 
Unbathed he lies, and bleeds along the 

shore ! 
Now from the walls the clamours reach 

her ear 
And all her members shake with sudden 

fear; 
Forth from her iv'ry hand the shuttle 

falls, 
As thus, astonish'd, to her maids she calls: 
' Ah, follow me ' (she cried) ! ' what 

plaintive noise 
Invades my ear ? 'T is sure my mother's 

voice. 
My falt'ring knees their trembling frame 

desert, 580 

A pulse unusual flutters at my heart. 
Some strange disaster, some reverse of 

fate 
(Ye Gods avert it !) threats the Trojan 

state. 



Far be the omen which my thoughts sug- 
gest ! 
But much I fear my Hector's dauntless 

breast 
Confronts Achilles; chased along the plain, 
Shut from our walls ! I fear, I fear him 

slain ! 
Safe in the crowd he ever scorn'd to wait,* 
And sought for glory in the jaws of Fate: 
Perhaps that noble heat has cost his 

breath, 590 

Now quench'd for ever in the arms of 

death.' 
She spoke; and, furious, with distracted 

pace, 
Fears in her heart, and anguish in her face. 
Flies thro' the dome (the maids her step 

pursue), 
And mounts the walls, and sends around 

her view. 
Too soon her eyes the killing object found. 
The godlike Hector dragg'd along the 

ground. 
A sudden darkness shades her swimming 

eyes: 
She faints, she falls; her breath, her colour, 

flies. 
Her hair's fair ornaments, the braids that 

bound, 6co 

The net that held them, and the wreath 

that crown'd. 
The veil and diadem, flew far away 
(The gift of Venus on her bridal day). 
Around, a train of weeping sisters stands. 
To raise her sinking with assistant hands. 
Scarce from the verge of death recall'd, 

again 
She faints, or but recovers to complain: 
* O wretched husband of a wretched 

wife ! 
Born with one fate, to one unhappy life ! 
For sure one star its baneful beam dis- 

play'd 610 

On Priam's roof, and Hippoplacia's shade. 
From diff'rent parents, difP'rent climes, we 

came. 
At difP'rent periods, yet our fate the same I 
Why was my birth to great Eetion owed, 
And why was all that tender care be- 

stow'd ? 
Would I had never been ! — Oh thou, the 

ghost 
Of my dead husband ! miserably lost ! 
Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone ! 
And I abandon'd, desolate, alone ! 



THE ILIAD 



505 



An only child, once comfort of my pains, 620 
Sad product now of hapless love, remains ! 
No more to smile upon his sire ! no friend 
To help him now ! no father to defend ! 
For should he 'scape the sword, the common 

doom. 
What wrongs attend him, and what griefs 

to come ! 
Ev'n from his own paternal roof expell'd, 
Some stranger ploughs his patrimonial 

field. 
The day that to the shades the father 

sends, 
Robs the sad orphan of his father's friends: 
He, wretched outcast of mankind ! ap- 
pears 630 
For ever sad, for ever bathed in tears; 
Amongst the happy, unregarded he 
Hangs on the robe or trembles at the knee; 
While those his father's former bounty fed, 
Nor reach the goblet, nor divide the bread : 
The kindest but his present wants allay, 
To leave him wretched the succeeding day. 
Frugal compassion ! Heedless, they who 

boast 
Both parents still, nor feel what he has 

lost, 
Shall cry. Begone ! thy father feasts not 

here : 640 

The wretch obeys, retiring with a tear. 
Thus wretched, thus retiring all in tears. 
To my sad soul Astyanax appears ! 
Forc'd by repeated insults to return. 
And to his widow'd mother vainly mourn. 
He who, with tender delicacy bred. 
With Princes sported, and on dainties fed, 
And, when still ev'ning gave him up to 

rest. 
Sunk soft in down upon the nurse's breast. 
Must — ah what must he not ? Whom 

Ilion calls 650 

Astyanax, from her well-guarded walls. 
Is now that name no more, unhappy boy ! 
Since now no more thy father guards his 

Troy. 
But thou, my Hector ! liest exposed in air, 
Far from thy parents' and thy consort's 

care. 
Whose hand in vain, directed by her love, 
The martial scarf and robe of triumph 

wove. 
Now to devouring flames be these a prey. 
Useless to thee, from this accursed day ! 
Yet let the sacrifice at least be paid, 660 
An honour to the living, not the dead ! ' 



So spake the mournful dame: her ma- 
trons hear, 
Sigh back her sighs, and answer tear with 
tear. 



BOOK XXIH 

FUNERAL GAMES IN HONOUR OF PATROCLUS 
THE ARGUMENT 

Achilles and the Myrmidons do honours to the 
body of Patroclus. After the funeral feast 
he retires to the sea-shore, wliere, falling' 
asleep, the ghost of liis friend appears to 
hira, and demands the rites of burial : the 
next morning the soldiers are sent with 
mules and wagons to fetch wood for the 
pyre. The funeral procession, and the of- 
fering their hair to the dead. Achilles 
sacrifices several animals, and lastly, twelve 
Trojan captives, at the pile ; then sets fire to 
it. He pays libations to the winds, which 
(at the instance of Iris) rise, and raise the 
flame. When the pile has burned all night, 
they gather the bones, place them in an urn 
of gold, and raise the tonab. Achilles in- 
stitutes the funeral games : the cliariot-race, 
the fight of the csestus, the wrestling, the 
foot-race, the single combat, the discus, the 
shooting with arrows, the darting the javelin : 
the various descriptions of which, and the 
various success of the several antagonists, 
make the greatest part of the book. 

In this book ends the thirtieth day : the night 
following, the ghost of Patroclus appears to 
Achilles : the one-and-thirtieth day is em- 
ployed in felling the timber for the pile ; the 
two-and-thirtieth in burning it ; and the 
three-and-thirtieth in the games. The 
scene is generally on the sea-shore. 

Thus humbled in the dust, the pensive 

train 
Thro' the sad city mourn'd her hero slain. 
The body soil'd with dust, and black with 

gore. 
Lies on broad Hellespont's resounding 

shore: 
The Grecians seek their ships, and clear 

the strand, 
All but the martial Myrmidonian band: 
These yet assembled great Achilles holds. 
And the stern purpose of his mind unfolds: 
' Not yet (my brave companions of the 

war) 
Release your smoking coursers from the 

car; 10 



5o6 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



But with his chariot each in order led, 
Perform due honours to Patroclus dead; 
Ere yet from rest or food we seek relief, 
Some rites remain, to glut our rage of 

grief.' 
The troops obey'd; and thrice in order 

led 
(Achilles first) their coursers round the 

dead 
And thrice their sorrows and laments re- 
new; 
Tears bathe their arms, and tears the sands 

bedew. 
For such a warrior Thetis aids their woe, 
Melts their strong hearts, and bids their 

eyes to flow. 20 

But chief, Pelides; thick-succeeding sighs 
Burst from his heart, and torrents from his 

eyes: 
His slaught'ring hands, yet red with blood, 

he laid 
On his dead friend's cold breast, and thus 

he said: 
'All bail, Patroclus ! let thy honour'd 

ghost 
Hear and rejoice on Pluto's dreary coast; 
Behold ! Achilles' promise is complete; 
The bloody Hector stretch'd before thy 

feet. 
Lo ! to the dogs his carcass I resign; 29 
And twelve sad victims of the Trojan line, 
Sacred to vengeance, instant shall expire, 
Their lives effused around thy funeral 

pyre.' 
Gloomy he said, and (horrible to view) 
Before the bier the bleeding Hector threw, 
Prone on the dust. The Myrmidons 

around 
Unbraced their armour, and the steeds un- 
bound. 
All to Achilles' sable ship repair. 
Frequent and full, the genial feast to 

share. 
Now from the well-fed swine black smokes 

aspire, 
The bristly victims hissing o'er the fire; 40 
The huge ox bell' wing falls; with feebler 

cries 
Expires the goat; the sheep in silence dies. 
Around the hero's prostrate body flow'd, 
In one promiscuous stream, the reeking 

blood. 
And now a band of Argive Monarchs 

brings 
The glorious victor to the King of Kings. 



From his dead friend the pensive warrior 

went, 
With steps unwilling, to the regal tent. 
Th' attending heralds, as by office bound. 
With kindled flames the tripod-vase sur- 
round; 50 
To cleanse his conquering hands from hos- 
tile gore. 
They urged in vain; the Chief refused, and 

swore, 
'No drop shall touch me, by Almighty 

Jove ! 
The first and greatest of the Gods above ! 
Till on the pyre I place thee; till I rear 
The grassy mound, and clip thy sacred 

hair. 
Some ease at least those pious rites may 

give, 
And soothe my sorrows, while I bear to 

live. 
Howe'er, reluctant as I am, I stay. 
And share your feast; but, with the dawn 

of day 60 

(O King of Men !) it claims thy royal care. 
That Greece the warrior's funeral pile pre- 
pare. 
And bid the forests fall (such rites are 

paid 
To heroes slumb'ring in eternal shade). 
Then, when his earthly part shall mount in 

fire. 
Let the leagued squadrons to their posts 

retire.' 
He spoke: they hear him, and the word' 

obey; 
The rage of hunger and of thirst allay, 
Then ease in sleep the labours of the day. 
But great Pelides, stretch'd along the 

shore, 70 

Where dash'd on rocks the broken billows 

roar. 
Lies inly groaning; while on either hand 
The martial Myrmidons confusedly stand: 
Along the grass his languid members fall, 
Tired with his chase around the Trojan 

wall; 
Hush'd by the murmurs of the rolling 

deep. 
At length he sinks in the soft arms of 

sleep. 
When lo ! the shade before his closing eyes 
Of sad Patroclus rose, or seem'd to rise: 
In the same robe he living woi'e, he came, 80 
In stature, voice, and pleasing look, the 

same. 



THE ILIAD 



507 



The form familiar hover'd o'er his head, ' 
And, * Sleeps Achilles ' (thus the phan- 
tom said), 
* Sleeps my Achilles, his Patroclus dead ? 
Living, I seem'd his dearest, tenderest 

care, 
But now forgot, I wander in the air: 
Let my pale corse the rites of burial know. 
And give me entrance in the realms below; 
Till then, the spirit finds no resting-place. 
But here and there th' unbodied spectres 

chase 90 

The vagrant dead around the dark abode, 
Forbid to cross th' irremeable flood. 
Now give thy hand; for to the farther 

shore 
When once we pass, the soul returns no 

more. 
When once the last funereal flames ascend, 
No more shall meet Achilles and his friend; 
No more our thoughts to those we love 

make known. 
Or quit the dearest to converse alone. 
Me Fate has sever'd from the sons of earth. 
The Fate foredoom'd that waited from my 

birth: 100 

Thee too it waits; before the Trojan wall 
Ev'n great and godlike thou art doom'd to 

fall. 
Hear then; and as in Fate and love we join. 
Ah, suffer that my bones may rest with 

thine ! 
Together have we liv'd, together bred, 
One house receiv'd us, and one table fed ! 
That golden urn thy goddess-mother gave. 
May mix our ashes in one common grave.' 
' And is it thou ? ' (he answers) ' To my 

sight 
Once more return'st thou from the realms 

of night ? no 

Oh more than brother ! think each office 

paid 
Whate'er can rest a discontented shade; 
But grant one last embrace, unhappy boy ! 
Afford at least that melancholy joy.' 

He said, and with his longing arms es- 
say 'd 
In vain to grasp the visionary shade ; 
Like a thin smoke he sees the spirit fly. 
And hears a feeble, lamentable cry. 
Confused he wakes; amazement breaks') 

the bands 
Of golden sleep, and, starting from the 

sands, 120 [ 

Pensive he muses with uplifted hands: J 



* 'T is true, 't is certain; man, the' dead, 

retains 
Part of himself; th' immortal mind re- 
mains : 
The form subsists, without the body's aid. 
Aerial semblance, and an empty shade ! 
This night, my friend, so late in battle 

lost. 
Stood at my side a pensive, plaintive ghost; 
Ev'n now familiar, as in life, he came, 
Alas, how different ! yet how like the 

same ! ' 
Thus while he spoke, each eye grew big 

with tears; 130 

And now the rosy-finger'd morn appears. 
Shows every mournful face with tears o'er- 

spread, 
And glares on the pale visage of the dead. 
But Agamemnon, as the rites demand. 
With mules and wagons sends a chosen 

band 
To load the timber, and the pile to rear; 
A charge consign'd to Merion's faithful 

care. 
With proper instruments they take the 

road. 
Axes to cut, and ropes to sling the load. 139 
First march the heavy mules, seeurely slow. 
O'er hills, o'er dales, o'er crags, o'er rocks 

they go: 
Jumping, high o'er the shrubs of the rough 

ground, 
Rattle the clatt'ring cars, and the shock'd 

axles bound, 
But when arrived at Ida's spreading woods 
(Fair Ida, water'd with descending floods), 
Loud sounds the axe, redoubling strokes on 

strokes ; 
On all sides round the forest hurls her 

oaks 
Headlong. Deep-echoing groan the thick- 
ets brown; 
Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder 

down: 
The wood the Grecians cleave, prepared to 

burn; 150 

And the slow mules the same rough road 

return. 
The sturdy woodmen equal burthens bore 
(Such charge was giv'n them) to the sandy 

shore ; 
There on the spot which great Achilles 

show'd. 
They eas'd their shoulders and disposed 

the load; 



So8 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Circling around the place, where times to 

come 
Shall view Patroclus' and Achilles' tomb. 
The hero bids his martial troops appear 
High on their cars, in all the pomp of war: 
Each in refulgent arms his limbs attires, i6o 
All mount their chariots, combatants and 

squires. 
The chariots first proceed, a shining train; 
Then clouds of foot that smoke along the 

plain ; 
Next these a melancholy band appear; 
Amidst, lay dead Patroclus on the bier: 
O'er all the corse their scatter'd locks they 

throw: 
Achilles next, oppress'd with mighty woe, 
Supporting with his hands the hero's head. 
Bends o'er th' extended body of the dead. 169 
Patroclus decent on th' appointed ground 
They place, and heap the sylvan pile 

around. 
But great Achilles stands apart in prayer. 
And from his head divides the yellow hair; 
Those curling locks which from his youth 

he vow'd. 
And sacred grew to Sperchius' honour'd 

flood: 
Then, sighing, to the deep his looks he 

cast. 
And roll'd his eyes around the wat'ry 

waste : 
* Sperchius ! whose waves, in mazy 

errors lost. 
Delightful roll along my native coast ! 179 
To whom we vainly vow'd, at our return, 
These locks to fall, and hecatombs to burn; 
Full fifty rams to bleed in sacrifice. 
Where to the day thy silver fountains rise, 
And where in shade of consecrated bowers 
Thy altars stand, perfumed with native 

flowers ! 
So vow'd my father, but he vow'd in vain; 
No more Achilles sees his native plain; 
In that vain hope these hairs no longer 

grow, 188 

Patroclus bears them to the shades below.' 
Thus o'er Patroclus while the hero pray'd. 
On his cold hand the sacred lock he laid. 
Once more afresh the Grecian sorrows flow: 
And now the sun had set upon their woe; 
But to the King of Men thus spoke the 

Chief: 
* Enough, Atrides ! give the troops relief: 
Permit the mourning legions to retire. 
And let the Chiefs alone attend the pyre; 



The pious care be ours, the dead to burn.' 
He said: the people to their ships re- 



turn: 



199 



While those deputed to inter the slain, 
Heap with a rising pyramid the plain; 
A hundred foot in length, a himdred wide, 
The growing structure spreads on ev'ry 

side; 
High on the top the manly corse they lay, 
And well-fed sheep and sable oxen slay: 
Achilles cover'd with their fat the dead. 
And the piled victims round the body 

spread ; 
Then jars of honey and of fragrant oil 
Suspends around, low-bending o'er the pile. 
Four sprightly coursers, with a deadly 

groan, 210 

Pour forth their lives, and on the pyre are 

thrown. 
Of nine large dogs, domestic at his board. 
Fall two, selected to attend their lord. 
Then last of all, and horrible to tell. 
Sad sacrifice ! twelve Trojan captives fell: 
On these the rage of fire victorious preys, 
Involves, and joins them in one common 

blaze. 
Smear'd with the bloody rites he stands on 

high. 
And calls the spirit with a dreadful cry: 
' All hail, Patroclus ! let thy vengeful 

ghost 220 

Hear and exult on Pluto's dreary coast. 
Behold Achilles' promise fully paid. 
Twelve Trojan heroes offer'd to thy shade; 
But heavier fates on Hector's corse attend, 
Saved from the flames, for hungry dogs to 

rend.' 
So spake he, threat'ning: but the Gods 

made vain 
His threat, and guard inviolate the slain: 
Celestial Venus hover'd o'er his head. 
And roseate unguents, heav'nly fragrance ! 

shed : 
She watch'd him all the night, and all the 

day, 230 

And drove the bloodhounds from their des- 

tin'd prey. 
Nor sacred Phcebus less employ 'd his care: 
He pour'd around a veil of gather'd air. 
And kept the nerves undried, the flesh 

entire. 
Against the solar beam and Sirian fire. 
Nor yet the pile, where dead Patroclus 

lies. 
Smokes, nor as yet the sullen flames arise; 



THE ILIAD 



509 



But, fast beside, Achilles stood in prayer, 
Invoked the Gods whose spirit moves the 

air, 
And victims promis'd, and libations cast, 240 
To gentle Zephyr and the Boreal blast: 
He call'd th' aerial Powers, along the skies 
To breathe, and whisper to the fires to rise. 
The winged Iris heard the hero's call, 
And instant hasten'd to their airy hall, 
Where, in old Zephyr's open courts on high, 
Sat all the blust'ring brethren of the sky. 
She shone amidst them, on her painted 

bow; 
The rocky pavement glitter'd with the 

show. 249 

All from the banquet rise, and each invites 
The various Goddess to partake the rites. 
* Not so ' (the Dame replied), * I haste to 

go 
To sacred Ocean, and the floods below; 
Ev'n now our solemn hecatombs attend. 
And Heav'n is feasting on the w^orld's 

green end, 
With righteous ^thiops (uncorrupted 

train) ! 
Far on th' extremest limits of the main. 
But Peleus' son entreats, with sacrifice. 
The Western spirit, and the North to rise; 
Let on Patroclus' pile your blast be 

driv'n, 260 

And bear the blazing honours high to 

Heav'n.' 
Swift as the word, she vanish'd from 

their view: 
Swift as the word, the winds tumultuous 

flew; 
Forth burst the stormy band with thun- 

d'ring roar. 
And heaps on heaps the clouds are toss'd 

before. 
To the wide main then stooping from the 

skies, 
The heaving deeps in wat'ry mountains 

rise: 
Troy feels the blast along her shaking 

walls, 
Till on the pile the gather'd tempest falls. 
The structure crackles in the roaring 

fires, 270 

And all the night the plenteous flame as- 
pires: 
All night Achilles hails Patroclus' soul, 
With large libation from the golden bowl, 
As a poor father, helpless and undone, 
Mourns o'er the ashes of an only son, 



Takes a sad pleasure the last bones to 

burn. 
And pour in tears, ere yet they close the 

urn: 
So stay'd Achilles, circling round the shore, 
So watch'd the flames, till now they flame 

no more. 
'T was when, emerging thro' the shades of 

night, 280 

The morning planet told th' approach of 

light; 
And, fast behind, Aurora's warmer ray 
O'er the broad ocean pour'd the golden 

day: 
Then sunk the blaze, the pile no longer 

burn'd. 
And to their caves the whistling winds 

return'd: 
Across the Thracian seas their course they 

bore ; 
The ruffled seas beneath their passage roar. 
Then, parting from the pile, he ceas'd to 

weep. 
And sunk to quiet in th' embrace of sleep, 
Exhausted with his grief: meanwhile the 

crowd 290 

Of thronging Grecians round Achilles 

stood : 
The tumult waked him: from his eyes he 

shook 
Unwilling slumber, and the Chief bespoke: 
* Ye Kings and Princes of th' Achaian 

name ! 
First let us quench the yet remaining flame 
With sable wine; then (as the rites direct) 
The hero's bones with careful view select 
(Apart, and easy to be known they lie, 
Amidst the heap, and obvious to the eye: 
The rest around the margins will be seen, 
Promiscuous, steeds and immolated men). 
These, wrapp'd in double cauls of fat, pre- 
pare ; 302 
And in the golden vase dispose with care; 
There let them rest, with decent honour 

laid, 
Till I shall follow to th' infernal shade. 
Meantime erect the tomb with pious hands, 
A common structure on the humble sands; 
Hereafter Greece some nobler work may 

raise. 
And late posterity record our praise.* 
The Greeks obey; where yet the embers 

glow, 310 

Wide o'er the pile the sable wine they 
throw, 



S^o 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



And deep subsides the ashy heap below. 
Next the white bones his sad companions 

place, 
With tears collected, in the golden vase. 
The sacred relics to the tent they bore; 
The urn a veil of linen cover'd o'er. 
That done, they bid the sepulchre aspire, 
And cast the deep foundations round the 

pyre; 
High in the midst they heap the swelling 

bed 
Of rising earth, memorial of the dead. 320 
The swarming populace the Chief de- 
tains, 
And leads amidst a wide extent of plains ; 
There placed them round; then from the 

ships proceeds 
A train of oxen, mules, and stately steeds, 
Vases and tripods, for the funeral games. 
Resplendent brass, and more resplendent 

dames. 
First stood the prizes to reward the force 
Of rapid racers in the dusty course: 
A woman for the first, in beauty's bloom, 
Skill'd in the needle, and the lab'ring 

loom; 330 

And a large vase, where two bright handles 

rise, 
Of twenty measures its capacious size. 
The second victor claims a mare unbroke. 
Big with a mule, unknowing of the yoke; 
The third, a charger yet untouch'd by 

flame; 
Four ample measures held the shining 

frame : 
Two golden talents for the fourth were 

placed ; 
An ample double bowl contents the last. 
These in fair order ranged upon the plain. 
The hero, rising, thus address'd the train: 
'Behold the prizes, valiant Greeks ! de- 
creed 341 
To the brave rulers of the racing steed; 
Prizes which none beside ourself could 

gain. 
Should our immortal coursers take the 

plain 
(A race unrivall'd, which from Ocean's God 
Peleus receiv'd, and on his son bestow'd). 
But 't is no time our vigour to display, 
Nor suit with them the games of this sad 

day: 
Lost is Patroclus now, that wont to deck 
Their flowing manes, and sleek their glossy 

neck. 350 



Sad, as they shared in human grief, they 

stand. 
And trail those graceful honours on the 

sand ! 
Let others for the noble task prepare. 
Who trust the courser, and the flying car.* 
Fired at his word, the rival racers rise; 
But, far the first, Eumelus hopes the prize; 
Famed thro' Pieria for the fleetest breed. 
And skill'd to manage the high-bounding 

steed. 
With equal ardour bold Tydides swell'd, 
The steeds of Tros beneath his yoke com- 

pell'd 360 

(Which late obey'd the Dardan Chief's 

command. 
When scarce a God redeem'd him from his 

hand). 
Then Menelaiis his Podargus brings. 
And the famed courser of the King of 

Kings : 
Whom rich Echepolus (more rich than 

brave), 
To 'scape the wars, to Agamemnon gave 
(^the her name), at home to end his days, 
Base wealth preferring to eternal praise. 
Next him Antilochus demands the course, 
With beating heart, and cheers his Pyliau 

horse. 370 

Experienc'd Nestor gives his son the reins, 
Directs his judgment, and his heat re- 
strains ; 
Nor idly warns the hoary sire, nor hears 
The prudent son with unattending ears: 
' My son ! tho' youthful ardour fire thy 

breast. 
The Gods have lov'd thee, and with arts 

have bless'd. 
Neptune and Jove on thee conferr'd the 

skill 
Swift round the goal to turn the flying 

wheel. 
To guide thy conduct, little precept needs; 
But slow, and past their vigour, are my 

steeds. 380 

Fear not thy rivals, tho' for swiftness known. 
Compare those rivals' judgment, and thy 

own: 
It is not strength, but art, obtains the 

prize, 
And to be swift is less than to be wise: 
*T is more by art, than force of numerous 

strokes. 
The dext'rous woodman shapes the stub- 
born oaks: 



THE ILIAD 



5" 



By art the pilot, thro' the boiling deep 
And howling tempests, steers the fearless 

ship; 
And 't is the artist wins the glorious course, 
Not those who trust in chariots and in 

horse. 390 

In vain, unskilful, to the goal they strive, 
And short, or wide, th' ungovern'd courser 

drive : 
While with sure skill, tho' with inferior 

steeds. 
The knowing racer to his end proceeds; 
Fix'd on the goal his eye fore-runs the 

course. 
His hand unerring steers the steady horse, 
And now contracts, or now extends, the 

rein. 
Observing still the foremost on the plain. 
Mark then the goal, 't is easy to be found ; 
Yon aged trunk, a cubit from the ground; 
Of some once-stately oak the last remains. 
Or hardy fir, unperish'd with the rains: 402 
Enclosed with stones, conspicuous from 

afar, 
And round, a circle for the wheeling car 
(Some tomb perhaps of old, the dead to 

grace ; 
Or then, as now, the limit of a race). 
Bear close to this, and warily proceed, 
A little bending to the left-hand steed; 
But urge the right, and give him all the 

reins; 
While thy strict hand his fellow's head 

restrains, 410 

And turns him short; till, doubling as they 

roll. 
The wheel's round naves appear to brush 

the goal; 
Yet (not to break the car, or lame the 

horse). 
Clear of the stony heap direct the course; 
Lest, thro' incaution failing, thou may'st be 
A joy to others, a reproach to me. 
So shalt thou pass the goal, secure of mind. 
And leave unskilful swiftness far behind, 
Tho' thy fierce rival drove the matchless 

steed 419 

Which bore Adrastus, of celestial breed; 
Or the famed race thro' all the regions 

known. 
That whirl'd the car of proud Laomedon.' 
Thus (nought unsaid) the much-advising 

sage 
Concludes; then sat, stifE with unwieldy 

age. 



Next bold Meriones was seen to rise, 

The last, but not least ardent for the prize. 

They mount their seats; the lots their place 

dispose 
(Roll'd in his helmet, these Achilles 

throws) ; 
Young Nestor leads the race; Eumelus 

then; 
And next, the brother of the King of 

Men: 430 

Thy lot, Meriones, the fourth was cast; 
And, far the bravest, Diomed, was last. 
They stand in order, an impatient train; 
Pelides points the barrier on the plain. 
And sends before old Phcenix to the place. 
To mark the racers, and to judge the race. 
At once the coursers from the barrier 

bound; 
The lifted scourges all at once resound; 
Their heart, their eyes, their voice, they 

send before; 
And up the champaign thunder from the 

shore : 440 

Thick, where they drive, the dusty clouds 

arise, 
And the lost courser in the whirlwind flies; 
Loose on their shoulders the long manes 

reclin'd. 
Float in their speed, and dance upon the 

wind : 
The smoking chariots, rapid as they bound, 
Now seem to touch the sky, and now the 

ground; 
While hot for Fame, and conquest all their 

care 
(Each o'er his flying courser hung in air). 
Erect with ardour, pois'd upon the rein, 
They pant, they stretch, they shout along 

the plain: 450 

Now (the last compass fetch'd around the 

goal) 
At the near prize each gathers all his soul. 
Each burns with double hope, with double 

pain 
Tears up the shore, and thunders tow'rd 

the main. 
First flew Eumelus on Pheretian steeds; 
With those of Tros, bold Diomed succeeds: 
Close on Eumelus' back they puff the wind. 
And seem just mounting on his car behind; 
Full on his neck he feels the sultry breeze. 
And, hov'ring o'er, their stretching shadows 

sees. 460 

Then had he lost, or left a doubtful prize; 
But angry Phoebus to Tydides flies. 



512 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Strikes from his hand the scourge, and ren- 
ders vain 
His matchless horses' labour on the plain. 
Rage fills his eye with anguish, to survey, 
Snatch'd from his hope, the glories of the 

day. 
The fraud celestial Pallas sees with pain, 
Springs to her knight, and gives the scourge 

again. 
And fills his steeds with vigour. At a 

stroke, 
She breaks his rival's chariot from the 

yoke: _ 470 

No more their way the startled horses 

held; 
The car re vers 'd came rattling on the 

field; 
Shot headlong from his seat, beside the 

wheel, 
Prone on the dust th' unhappy master 

fell; 
His batter'd face and elbows strike the 

ground: 
Nose, mouth, and front one undistinguish'd 

wound: 
Grief stops his voice, a torrent drowns his 

eyes; 
Before him far the glad Tydides flies; 
Minerva's spirit drives his matchless pace. 
And crowns him victor of the labour'd 

race. 480 

The next, tho' distant, Menelaus suc- 
ceeds; 
While thus young Nestor animates his 

steeds: 
* Now, now, my gen'rous pair, exert your 

force ; 
Not that we hope to match Tydides' horse ; 
Since great Minerva wings their rapid 

way. 
And gives their lord the honours of the 

day. 
But reach Atrides ! shall his mare out-go 
Your swiftness ? vanquish'd by a female 

foe? 
Thro' your neglect, if, lagging on the 

plain. 
The last ignoble gift be all we gain, 490 
No more shall Nestor's hand your food 

supply ; 
The old man's fury rises, and ye die. 
Haste then ! yon narrow road before our 

sight 
Presents th' occasion, could we use it 

rififht.' 



Thus he. The coursers at their master's 

threat 
With quicker steps the sounding cham- 
paign beat. 
And now Antilochus, with nice survey, 
Observes the compass of the hollow way. 
'T was "^here by force of wintry torrents 

torn. 
Fast by the road a precipice was worn : 500 
Here, where but one could pass, to shun 

the throng. 
The Spartan hero's chariot smoked along. 
Close up the venturous youth resolves to 

keep. 
Still edging near, and bears him tow'rd 

the steep. 
Atrides, trembling, casts his eye below, 
And wonders at the rashness of his foe: 
'Hold, stay your steeds — what madness 

thus to ride 
This narrow way ! Take larger field ' (he 

cried), 
' Or both must fall.' Atrides cried in vain; 
He flies more fast, and throws up all the 

rein. 510 

Far as an able arm the disc can send. 
When youthful rivals their full force ex- 
tend. 
So far, Antilochus ! thy chariot flew 
Before the King : he, cautious, backward 

drew 
His horse compell'd; foreboding in his 

fears 
The rattling ruin of the clashing cars. 
The flound'ring coursers rolling on the 

plain. 
And conquest lost thro' frantic haste to 

gain. 
But thus upbraids his rival as he flies: 
' Go, furious youth ! ungen'rous and un- 
wise ! 520 
Go, but expect not I'll the prize resign; 
Add perjury to fraud, and make it thine.' 
Then to his steeds with all his force he 

cries: 
* Be swift, be vig'rous, and regain the 

prize ! 
Your rivals, destitute of youthful force. 
With fainting knees shall labour in the 

course. 
And yield the glory yours.' The steeds "j 

obey; 
Already at their heels they wing their ^ 

way. 
And seem already to retrieve the day 






THE ILIAD 



513 



Meantime the Grecians in a ring be- 
held 530 

The coursers bounding o'er the dusty field. 

The first who mark'd them was the Cretan 
King; 

High on a rising ground, above the ring, 

The Monarch sat; from whence with sure 
survey 

He well observ'd the Chief who led the 
way. 

And heard from far his animating cries, 

And saw the foremost steed with sharpen'd 
eyes; 

On whose broad front a blaze of shining 
white, 

Like the full moon, stood obvious to the 
sight. _ 539 

He saw; and, rising, to the Greeks begun: 

* Are yonder horse discern'd by me alone ? 
Or can ye, all, another Chief survey, 

And other steeds, than lately led the way ? 
Those, tho' the swiftest, by some God with- 
held, 
Lie sure disabled in the middle field: 
For since the goal they doubled, round the 

plain 
I search to find them, but I search in vain. 
Perchance the reins forsook the driver's 

hand. 
And, turn'd too short, he tumbled on the 

strand, 
Shot from the chariot; while his coursers 

stray 550 

With frantic fury from the destin'd way. 
Rise then some other, and inform my 

sight 
(For these dim eyes, perhaps, discern not 

right) ; 
Yet sure he seems (to judge by shape and 

air) 
The great iEtolian Chief, renown'd in war.' 
'Old man! ' (Oileus rashly thus replies), 

* Thy tongue too hastily confers the prize. 
Of those who view the course, not sharpest 

eyed, 
Nor youngest, yet the readiest to decide. 
Eumelus' steeds high-bounding in the 

chase, 560 

Still, as at first, unrivall'd lead the race; 
I well discern him, as he shakes the rein. 
And hear his shouts victorious o'er the 

plain.' 
Thus he. Idomeneus incens'd rejoin'd: 

* Barb'rous of words ! and arrogant of 

mind ! 



Contentious Prince ! of all the Greeks be- 
side 

The last in merit, as the first in pride ! 

To vile reproach what answer can we 
make ? 

A goblet or a tripod let us stake, 

And be the King the judge. The most 
unwise 570 

Will learn their rashness, when they pay 
the price.' 
He said: and Ajax, by mad passion 
borne. 

Stern had replied; fierce scorn enhancing 
scorn 

To fell extremes. But Thetis' godlike son. 

Awful, amidst them rose; and thus begun*. 
' Forbear, ye Chiefs ! reproachful to ' 
contend: 

Much would ye blame, should others thus 
offend: 

And lo ! th' approaching steeds your con- 
test end.' 

No sooner had he spoke, but, tlmnd'ring 
near. 

Drives, thro' a stream of dust, the chario- 
teer; 580 

High o'er his head the circling lash he 
wields; 

His bounding horses scarcely touch the 
fields: 

His car amidst the dusty whirlwind roll'd, 

Bright with the mingled blaze of tin and 
gold. 

Refulgent thro' the cloud: no eye could 
find 

The track his flying wheels had left be- 
hind : 

And the fierce coursers urged their rapid 
pace 

So swift, it seem'd a flight, and not a race. 

Now victor at the goal Tydides stands. 

Quits his bright car, and springs upon the 
sands; 590 

From the hot steeds the sweaty torrents 
stream ; 

The well-plied whip is hung athwart the 
beam : 

With joy brave Sthenelus receives the 
prize, 

The tripod-vase, and dame with radiant 
eyes: 

These to the ships his train triumphant 
leads, 

The Chief himself unyokes the panting 
steeds. 



SH 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Young Nestor follows (who by art, not 
force, 
O'erpass'd Atrides), second in the course. 
Behind, Atrides urged the race, more near 
Than to the courser in his swift career 600 
The foll'wing ear, just touching with his 

heel 
And brushing with his tail the whirling 

wheel: 
Such, and so narrow, now the space be- 
tween 
The rivals, late so distant on the green; 
So soon swift yEthe her lost ground re ■ 

gain'd, 
One length, one moment, had the race ob- 
tain 'd. 
Merion pursued, at greater distance 
still, 
With tardier coursers, and inferior skill. 
Last came, Admetus ! thy unhappy son ; ' 
Slow dragg'd the steeds his batter'd 
chariot on; 610 

Achilles saw, and pitying thus begun : 

* Behold ! the man whose matchless art 
surpass'd 
The sons of Greece ! the ablest, yet the 

last ! 
Fortune denies, but justice bids us pay ^ 
(Since great Tydides bears the first away) \- 
To him the second honours of the day.' J 
The Greeks consent with loud applaud- 
ing cries. 
And then Eumelus had receiv'd the prize. 
But youthful Nestor, jealous of his fame, 
Th' award opposes, and asserts his claim: 620 
' Think not ' (he cries), * I tamely will re- 
sign, 
O Peleus' son ! the mare so justly mine. 
What if the Gods, the skilful to confound, 
Have thrown the horse and horseman to 

the ground ? 
Perhaps he sought not Heav'n by sacrifice. 
And vows omitted forfeited the prize. 
If yet (distinction to thy friend to show, 
And please a soul desirous to bestow) 
Some gift must grace Eumelus, view thy 

store 
Of beauteous handmaids, steeds, and shin- 
ing ore; 630 
An ample present let him thence receive, 
And Greece shall praise thy gen'rous thirst 

to give. 
But this, my prize, I never shall forego; 
This, who but touches, Warriors ! is my 
foe.' 



Thus spake the youth, nor did his words 

offend ; 
Pleas'd with the well-turn'd flattery of a 

friend, 
Achilles smiled: 'The gift proposed' (he 

cried), 
' Antilochus ! we shall ourselves provide. 
With plates of brass the corslet cover'd 

o'er 
(The same renown'd Asteropseus wore), 640 
Whose glitt'ring margins rais'd with silver 

shine 
(No vulgar gift), Eumelus, shall be thine.' 

He said : Automedon at his command 
The corslet brought, and gave it to his 

hand. 
Distinguish'd by his friend, his bosom glows 
With gen'rous joy; then Menelaus rose; 
The herald placed the sceptre in his hands, 
And still'd the clamour of the shouting 

bands. 
Not without cause incens'd at Nestor's son, 
And inly grieving, thus the King begun: 
' The praise of wisdom, in thy youth ob- 

tain'd, 651 

An act so rash, Antilochus, has stain'd. 
Robb'd of my glory and my just reward, 
To you, O Grecians! be my wrong de- 
clared: 
So not a leader shall our conduct blame. 
Or judge me envious of a rival's fame. 
But shall not we, ourselves, the truth 

maintain ? 
What needs appealing in a fact so plain ? 
What Greek shall blame me, if I bid thee 

rise 
And vindicate by oath th' ill-gotten prize? 
Rise, if thou darest, before thy chariot 

stand, 661 

The driving scourge high lifted in thy hand, 
And touch thy steeds, and swear thy whole 

intent 
Was but to conquer, not to circumvent. 
Swear by that God whose liquid arms sur- 
round 
The globe, and whose dread earthquakes 

heave the ground.' 
The prudent Chief with calm attention 

heard ; 
Then mildly thus: 'Excuse, if youth have 

err'd; 
Superior as thou art, forgive th' offence. 
Nor I thy equal, or in years, or sense. 670 
Thou know'st the errors of unripen'd age. 
Weak are its counsels, headlong is its rage. 



THE ILIAD 



515 



The prize I quit, if thou thy wrath resign ; 
The mare, or aught thou ask'st, be freely 

thine, 
Ere I become (from thy dear friendship 

torn) 
Hateful to thee, and to the Gods forsworn.' 

So spoke Antilochus; and at the word 
The mare contested to the King restor'd. 
Joy swells his soul, as when the vernal grain 
Lifts the green ear above the springing 

plain, 680 

The fields their vegetable life renew, 
And laugh and glitter with the morning 

dew: 
Such joy the Spartan's shining face o'er- 

spread. 
And lifted his gay heart, while thus he said: 

* Still may our souls, gen'rous youth ! 

agree ; 
'T is now Atrides' turn to yield to thee. 
Rash heat perhaps a moment miglit con- 
trol, 
Not break, the settled temper of thy soul. 
Not but (my friend) t' is still the wiser way 
To waive contention with superior sway: 
For ah ! how few, who should like thee 
offend, 691 

Like thee, have talents to regain the friend? 
To plead indulgence, and thy fault atone, 
Suffice thy father's merits, and thy own: 
Gen'rous alike, for me the sire and son 
Have greatly suffer'd, and have greatly 

done. 
I yield that all may know my soul can 

bend, 
Nor is my pride preferr'd before my 
friend.' 
He said: and pleas'd his passion to com- 
mand, 
Resign'd the courser to Noe men's hand, 700 
Friend of the youthful Chief: himself con- 
tent. 
The shining charger to his vessel sent. 
The golden talents Merion next obtain'd; 
The fifth reward, the double bowl, re- 

main'd. 
Achilles this to rev'rend Nestor bears, 
And thus the purpose of his gift declares: 

* Accept thou this, sacred Sire ' (he 

said), 
* In dear memorial of Patroclus dead ; 
Dead, and for ever lost, Patroclus lies, 709 
For ever snatch'd from our desiring eyes! 
Take thou this token of a grateful heart: 
Tho' 't is not thine to hurl the distant dart, 



The quoit to toss, the pond'rous mace to 

wield, 
Or urge the race, or wrestle on the field: 
Thy pristine vigour age has overthrown. 
But left the glory of the past thy own.' 
He said, and placed the goblet at his 

side: 
With joy the venerable King replied: 
* Wisely and well, my son, thy words have 

prov'd 
A senior honour'd and a friend belov'd! 720 
Too true it is, deserted of my strength. 
These wither'd arms and limbs have fail'd 

at length. 
Oh ! had I now that force I felt of yore. 
Known thro' Buprasium and the Pylian 

shore ! 
Victorious then in ev'ry solemn game, 
Ordaiu'd to Amarynces' mighty name; 
The brave Epeians gave my glory way, 
-^tolians, Pylians, all resign'd the day. 
I quell'd Clytomedes in fights of hand, 
And backward hurled Ancseus on the 

sand, 730 

Surpassed Iphiclus in the swift career, 
Phyleus and Polydorus, with the spear: 
The sons of Actor won the prize of horse, 
But won by numbers, not by art or force: 
For the famed twins, impatient to survey 
Prize after prize by Nestor borne away, 
Sprung to their car; and with united pains 
One lash'd the coursers, while one ruled 

the reins. 
Such once I was ! Now to these tasks suc- 
ceeds 73g 

A younger race, that emulate our deeds: 
I yield, alas ! (to age who must not yield?) 
Tho' once the foremost hero of the field. 
Go thou, my son ! by gen'rous friendship 

led, 
With martial honours decorate the dead; 
While pleas'd I take the gift thy hands 

present 
(Pledge of benevolence, and kind intent) ; 
Rejoic'd, of all the numerous Greeks, to see 
Not one but honours saco-ed age and me: 
Those due distinctions thou so well canst 

pay, 749 

May the just Gods return another day.' 
Proud of the gift, thus spake the Full of 

Days: 
Achilles heard him, prouder of the praise. 
The prizes next are order'd to the field, 
For the bold champions who the csestus 

wield. 



5i6 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



A stately mule, as yet by toils unbroke, 
Of six years' age, unconscious of the yoke, 
Is to the circus led, and firmly bound; 
Next stands a goblet, massy, large, and 

round. 
Achilles rising thus: 'Let Greece excite 
Two heroes equal to this hardy fight; 760 
Who dares his foe with lifted arms pro- 
voke. 
And rush beneath the long - descending 

stroke. 
On whom Apollo shall the palm bestow. 
And whom the Greeks supreme by con- 
quest know. 
This mule his dauntless labour shall re- 
pay; 
The vanquish'd bear the massy bowl away. 
The dreadful combat great Epeiis chose: 
High o'er the crowd, enormous bulk ! he 

rose, 
And seiz'd the beast, and thus began to say: 
* Stand forth some man, to bear the bowl 
away ! 770 

(Price of his ruin) for who dares deny 
This mule my right ? th' undoubted vic- 
tor I. 
Others, 't is own'd, in fields of battle shine. 
But the first honours of this fight are mine ; 
For who excels in all? Then let my foe 
Draw near, but first his certain fortune 

know. 
Secure, this hand shall his whole frame 

confound. 
Mash all his bones, and all his body 

pound : 
So let his friends be nigh, a needful train. 
To heave the batter'd carcass off the 
plain.' 780 

The Giant spoke ; and in a stupid gaze 
The host beheld him, silent with amaze ! 
'T was thou, Euryalus ! who durst aspire 
To meet his might, and emulate thy sire. 
The great Mecistheus; who in days of yore 
In Theban games the noblest trophy bore 
(The games ordain'd dead CEdipus to 

grace). 
And singly vanquish'd the Cadmean race. 
Him great Tydides urges to contend. 
Warm with the hopes of conquest for his 
friend ; 790 

Officious with the cincture girds him round; 
And to his wrist the gloves of death are 

bound. 
Amid the circle now each champion stands, 
And poises high in air his iron hands: 



With clashing gauntlets now they fiercely "j 

close. 
Their crackling jaws re-echo to the blows, > 
And painful sweat from all their mem- 
bers flows. J 
At length Epeiis dealt a weighty blow 
Full on the cheek of his unwary foe; 799 
Beneath that pond'rous arm's resistless sway 
Down dropp'd he, nerveless, and extended 

lay. 
As a large fish, when winds and waters 

roar, 
By some huge billow dash'd against the 

shore. 
Lies panting : not less batter'd with his 

wound. 
The bleeding hero pants upon the ground. 
To rear his fallen foe the victor lends. 
Scornful, his hand; and gives him to his 

friends ; 
Whose arms support him, reeling thro' the 

throng. 
And dragging his disabled legs along; 
Nodding, his head hangs down, his shoulder 
o'er; 810 

His mouth and nostrils pour the clotted 

gore; 
Wrapp'd round in mists he lies, and lost to 

thought; 
His friends receive the bowl, too dearly 
bought. 
The third bold game Achilles next de- 
mands. 
And calls the wrestlers to the level sands : 
A massj'^ tripod for the victor lies, 
Of twice six oxen its reputed price: 
And next, the loser's spirits to restore, 
A female captive, valued but at four; 
Scarce did the Chief the vig'rous strife pro- 
pose, 820 
When tower-like Ajax and Ulysses rose. 
Amid the ring each nervous rival stands. 
Embracing rigid with implicit hands: 
Close lock'd above, their heads and arms 

are mix'd; 
Below, their planted feet at distance fix'd: 
Like two strong rafters, which the builder 

forms 
Proof to the wintry winds and howling 

storms. 
Their tops connected, but at wider space 
Fix'd on the centre stands their solid base. 
Now to the grasp each manly body 
bends; 830 

The humid sweat from every pore descends; 



THE ILIAD 



517 



Their bones resound with blows : sides, 
shoulders, thighs, 

Swell to each gripe, and bloody tumours 
rise. 

Nor could Ulysses, for his art renown'd, 

O'erturn the strength of Ajax on the 
ground; 

Nor could the strength of Ajax overthrow 

The watchful caution of his artful foe. 

While the long strife ev'n tired the lookers- 
on, 

Thus to Ulysses spoke great Telamon: 
'Or let me lift thee. Chief, or lift thou 
me: 840 

Prove we our force, and Jove the rest de- 
cree.' 
He said: and, straining, heav'd him off 
the ground 

With matchless strength: that time Ulysses 
found 

The strength t' evade, and where the nerves 
combine 

His ankle struck: the giant fell supine; 

Ulysses foil' wing, on his bosom lies; 

Shouts of applause run rattling thro' the 
skies. 

Ajax to lift, Ulysses next essays, 

He barely stirr'd him, but he could not 
raise; 

His knee lock'd fast, the foe's attempt de- 
nied; 850 

And, grappling close, they tumble side by 
side. 

Defiled with honourable dust, they roll. 

Still breathing strife, and unsubdued of 
soul: 

Again they rage, again to combat rise; 

When great Achilles thus divides the prize: 
' Your noble vigour, oh my friends, re- 
strain; 

Nor weary out your gen'rous strength in 
vain. 

Ye both have won: let others who excel. 

Now prove that prowess you have prov'd 
so well.' 859 

The hero's words the willing Chiefs' 
obey, 

From their tired bodies wipe the dust 
away, 

And, clothed anew, the foU'wing games 
survey. 
And now succeed the gif tsordain'd to grace 

The youths contending in the rapid race: 

A silver urn that full six measures held, 

By none in weight or workmanship excell'd: 



Sidonian artists taught tlie frame to shine, 
Elaborate, with artifice divine; 
Whence Tyrian sailors did the prize trans- 
port, 869 
And gave to Thoas at the Lemnian port: 
From him descended, good Eungeus heir'd ) 
The glorious gift; and, for Lycaon spared, >• 
To brave Patroclus gave the rich reward. ) 
Now, the same hero's funeral rites to grace, 
It stands the prize of swiftness in the race. 
A well-fed ox was for the second placed; 
And half a talent must content the last. 
Achilles rising then bespoke the train: 
' Who hope the palm of swiftness to ob- 
tain. 
Stand forth, and bear these prizes from the 

plain.' 880 

The hero said, and, starting from his 

place, 
Oilean Ajax rises to the race; 
Ulysses next; and he whose speed sur- 

pass'd 
His youthful equals, Nestor's son the last. 
Ranged in a line the ready racers stand; 
Pelides points the barrier with his hand: 
All start at once; Oileus led the race; 
The next Ulysses, measuring pace with pace: 
Behind him, diligently close, he sped, 889 
As closely foil' wing as the running thread 
The spindle follows, and displays the 

charms 
Of the fair spinster's breast, and moving 

arms : 
Graceful in motion thus, his foe he plies. 
And treads each footstep ere the dust can 

rise: 
His glowing breath upon his shoulders 

plays; 
Th' admiring Greeks loud acclamations 

raise : 
To him they give their wishes, hearts, and 

eyes. 
And send their souls before him as he flies. 
Now three times turn'd in prospect of the 

goal. 
The panting chief to Pallas lifts his soul: 900 
* Assist, O Goddess ! ' (thus in thought he 

pray'd) 
And, present at his thought, descends the 

maid. 
Buoy'd by her heav'nly force, he seems to 

swim. 
And feels a pinion lifting ev'ry limb. 
All fierce, and ready now the prize to gain, 
Unhappy Ajax stumbles on the plain 



5i8 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



(O'erturn'd by Pallas) where the slipp'ry 

shore 
Was clogg'd with slimy dung, and mingled 

gore 
(The self-same place beside Patroelus' P3"re, 
Where late the slaughter'd victims fed the 

fire): 910 

Besmear'd with filth, and blotted o'er with 

clay. 
Obscene to sight, the rueful racer lay: 
The well-fed bull (the second prize) he 

shared. 
And left the urn Ulysses' rich reward. 
Then, grasping by the horn the mighty 

beast. 
The baffled hero thus the Greeks address'd: 
'Accursed Fate ! the conquest I forego; 
A mortal I, a Goddess was my foe : 
She urged her fav'rite on the rapid way, 
And Pallas, not Ulysses, won the day.' 920 
Thus sourly wail'd he, sputt'ring dirt and 

gore; 
A burst of laughter echoed thro' the shore. 
Antilochus, more humorous than the rest. 
Takes the last prize and takes it with a 

jest: 
* Why with our wiser elders should we 

strive ? 
The Gods still love them, and they always 

thrive. 
Ye see, to Ajax I must yield the prize; 
He to Ulysses, still more aged and wise 
(A green old age unconscious of decays. 
That proves the hero born in better 

days) ; 930 

Behold his vigour in this active race ! 
Achilles only boasts a swifter pace: 
For who can match Achilles ? He who 

can, 
Must yet be more than hero, more than 

man.' 
Th' effect succeeds the speech. Pelides 

cries, 
*Thy artful praise deserves a better prize. 
Nor Greece in vain shall hear thy friend 

extoU'd; 
Receive a talent of the purest gold.' 
The youth departs content. The host ad- 
mire 
The son of Nestor, worthy of his sire. 940 
Next these a buckler, spear, and helm he 

brings; 
Cast on the plain the brazen burthen rings: 
Arms, which of late divine Sarpedon wore. 
And great Patroelus in short triumph bore. 



* Stand forth, the bravest of our host ' (he 
cries), 

' Whoever dares deserve so rich a prize ! 

Now grace the lists before our army's 
sight. 

And, sheathed in steel, provoke his foe to 
fight. 

Who first the jointed armour shall ex- 
plore. 

And stain his rival's mail with issuing 
gore; 950 

The sword Asteropseus possess'd of old 

(A Thracian blade, distinct with studs of 
gold), 

Shall pay the stroke, and grace the strik- 
er's side; 

These arms in common let the chiefs 
divide: 

For each brave champion, when the com- 
bat ends, 

A sumptuous banquet at our tent attends.* 
Fierce at the word, up rose great Tydeus' 
son. 

And the huge bulk of Ajax Telamon: 

Clad in refulgent steel, on either hand, 959 

The dreadful chiefs amid the circle stand: 

Low'ring they meet, tremendous to the 
sight; 

Each Argive bosom beats with fierce de- 
light. 

Opposed in arms not long they idly stood, 

But thrice they closed, and thrice the charge 
renew'd. 

A furious pass the spear of Ajax made 

Thro' the broad shield, but at the corslet 
stay'd : 

Not thus the foe; his jav'lin aim'd above 

The buckler's margin, at the neck he drove. 

But Greece, now trembling for her hero's 
life. 

Bade share the honours, and surcease the 
strife. 970 

Yet still the victor's due Tydides gains. 

With him the sword and studded belt re- 
mains. 
Then hurl'd the hero, thund'ring on the 
ground, 

A mass of iron (an enormous round), 

Whose weight and size the circling Greeks 
admire. 

Rude from the furnace, and but shaped by 
fire. 

This mighty quoit Eetion wont to rear, 

And from his whirling arm dismiss in 
air: 



THE ILIAD 



519 



The giant by Achilles slain, he stow'd 
Among his spoils this memorable load. 980 
For this he bids those nervous artists vie, 
That teach the disc to sound along the sky : 
* Let him whose might can hurl this bowl, 

arise; 
"Who farthest hurls it, takes it as his 

prize: 
If he be one enrich'd with large domain 
Of downs for flocks, and arable for grain. 
Small stock of iron needs that man pro- 
vide; 
His hinds and swains whole years shall be 

supplied 
From hence ; nor ask the neighb'ring city's 

aid 
For ploughshares, wheels, and all the ru- 
ral trade.' 990 
Stern Polypcetes stepp'd before the 

throng, 
And great Leonteus, more than mortal 

strong: 
Whose force with rival forces to oppose, 
Up rose great Ajax; up Epeiis rose. 
Each stood in order: first Epeiis threw; 
High o'er the wond'ring crowds the whirl- 

ing circle flew. 
Leonteus next a little space surpass'd. 
And third, the strength of godlike Ajax 

cast: 
O'er both their marks it flew; till, fiercely 

flung 
From Polypcetes' arm, the discus sung: 1000 
Far as a swain his whirling sheephook 

throws. 
That distant falls among the grazing cows. 
So past them all the rapid circle flies: 
His friends (while loud applauses shake 

the skies) 
With force conjoin'd heave off the 

weighty prize. 

Those who in skilful archery contend 

He next invites, the twanging bow to bend: 

And twice ten axes casts amidst the round 

(Ten double-edg'd, and ten that singly 

wound). 
The mast, which late a first-rate galley 

bore, loio 

The hero fixes in the sandy shore: 
To the tall top a milk-white dove they tie. 
The trembling mark at which their arrows 

fly. 

' "Whose weapon strikes yon flutt'ring bird 

shall bear 
These two-edg'd axes, terrible in war: 



The single, he whose shaft divides the 

cord.' 
He said: experienc'd Merion took the word; 
And skilful Teucer: in the helm they threw 
Their lots inscribed, and forth the latter 

flew. 
Swift from the string the sounding arrow 

flies; 1020 

But flies unblest ! No grateful sacrifice, 
No firstling lambs, unheedful ! didst thou 

vow 
To Phoebus, patron of the shaft and bow. 
For this, thy well-aini'd arrow, turn'd 

aside, 
Err'd from the dove, yet cut the cord that 

tied: 
Adown the main-mast fell the parted 

string, 
And the free bird to Heav'n displays her 

wing: 
Seas, shores, and skies with loud applause 

resound. 
And Merion eager meditates the wound: 
He takes the bow, directs the shaft above. 
And, foll'wing with his eye the soaring 

dove, 103 1 

Implores the God to speed it thro' the 

skies. 
With vows of firstling lambs, and grateful 

sacrifice. 
The dove, in airy circles as she wheels. 
Amid the clouds the piercing arrow feels; 
Quite thro' and thro' the point its passage 

found, 
And at his feet fell bloody to the ground. 
The wounded bird, ere yet she breathed 

her last 
"With flagging wings alighted on the mast, 
A moment hung, and spread her pinions 

there, 1040 

Then sudden dropp'd, and left her life in 

air. 
From the pleas'd crowd new peals of thun- 
der rise. 
And to the ships brave Merion bears the 

prize. 
To close the funeral games, Achilles last 
A massy spear amid the circle placed, 
And ample charger of unsullied frame, 
With flowers high wrought, not blacken'd 

yet by flame. 
For these he bids the heroes prove their 

art. 
Whose dext'rous skill directs the flying 

dart. 



520 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Here too great Merion hopes the noble 

prize; 1050 

Nor here disdain'd the King of Men to rise. 
With joy Pelides saw the honour paid, 
Rose to the Monarch, and respectful said: 

' Thee first in virtue, as in power supreme, 
O King of Nations! all thy Greeks proclaim; 
In ev'ry martial game thy worth attest. 
And know thee both their greatest and 

their best; 
Take then the prize, but let brave Merion 

bear 
This beamy jav'lin in thy brother's war.' 
Pleas'd from the hero's lips his praise to 

hear, 1060 

The King to Merion gives the brazen spear; 
But, set apart for sacred use, commands 
The glitt'ring charger to Talthybius' hands. 



BOOK XXIV 

THE REDEMPTION OF THE BODY OF HECTOR 
THE ARGUMENT 

The Gods deliberate about the redemption of 
Hector's body. Jupiter sends Thetis to 
Achilles to dispose him for the restoring' it, 
and Iris to Priam, to encourage him to go in 
person, and treat for it. The old King, not- 
withstanding the remonstrances of his Queen, 
makes ready for the journey, to which he is 
encouraged by an omen from Jupiter. He 
sets forth in his chariot, with a wagon loaded 
with presents, under the charge of Idaeus the 
herald. Mercury descends in the shape of a 
young man, and conducts him to the pavilion 
of Achilles. Their conversation on the way. 
Priam finds Achilles at his table, casts him- 
self at his feet, and begs for the body of his 
son : Achilles, moved with compassion, 
grants his request, detains him one night in 
his tent, and the next morning sends him 
home with the body : the Trojans run out to 
meet him. The lamentation of Andromache, 
Hecuba, and Helen, with the solemnities of 
the funeral. 

The time of twelve days is employed in this 
book, while the body of Hector lies in the 
tent of Achilles. And as many more are 
spent in the truce allowed for his interment. 
The scene is partly in Achilles's camp, and 
partly in Troy. 

Now from the finish'd games the Gre- 
cian band 
Seek their black ships, and clear the 
crowded strand: 



All stretch'd at ease the genial banquet 

share. 
And pleasing slumbers quiet all their care. 
Not so Achilles: he, to grief resign'd, 
His friend's dear image present to his 

mind, 
Takes his sad couch, more unobserv'd to 

weep. 
Nor tastes the gifts of all-composing sleep; 
Restless he roll'd around his weary bed, 
And all his soul on his Patroclus fed: 10 
The form so pleasing, and the heart so 

kind. 
That youthful vigour, and that manly 

mind. 
What toils they shared, what martial works 

they wrought. 
What seas they measured, and what fields 

they fought; 
All pass'd before him in remembrance 

dear, 
Thought follows thought, and tear succeeds 

to tear. 
And now supine, now prone, the hero lay, 
Now shifts his side, impatient for the day; 
Then starting up, disconsolate he goes 19 
Wide on the lonely beach to vent his woes. 
There as the solitary mourner raves. 
The ruddy morning rises o'er the waves: 
Soon as it rose, his furious steeds he join'd; 
The chariot flies, and Hector trails behind. 
And thrice, Patroclus ! romid thy monu- 
ment 
Was Hector dragg'd, then hurried to the 

tent. 
There sleep at last o'ercomes the hero's "^ 

eyes; 
AVhile foul in dust th' unhonour'd carcass 

lies, 
But not deserted by the pitying skies. 29 
For Phcebus watch'd it with superior care, 
Preserv'd from gaping wounds, and taint- 
ing air; 
And, ignominious as it swept the field, 
Spread o'er the sacred corse his golden 

shield. 
All Heav'n was raov'd, and Hermes will'd 

to go 
By stealth to snatch him from th' insulting 

foe: 
But Neptune this, and Pallas this denies, 
And th' unrelenting Empress of the Skies: 
E'er since that day implacable to Troy, 
What time young Paris, simple shepherd 

boy, 39 



THE ILIAD 



521 



Won by destructive lust (reward obscene) 
Their charms rejected for the Cyprian 

Queen. 
But when the tenth celestial morning broke, 
To Heav'n assembled, thus Apollo spoke: 
' Unpitying Powers ! how oft each holy 
fane 
Has Hector tinged with blood of victims 

slain ? 
And can ye still his cold remains pursue ? 
Still grudge his body to the Trojans' view ? 
Deny to consort, mother, son, and sire, 
The last sad honours of a funeral fire ? 
Is then the dire Achilles all your care ? 50 
That iron heart, inflexibly severe; 
A lion, not a man, wlio slaughters wide 
In strength of rage and impotence of pride, 
Who hastes to murder with a savage joy, 
Invades around, and breathes but to de- 
stroy. 
Shame is not of his soul ; nor understood. 
The greatest evil and the greatest good. 
Still for one loss he rages unresign'd, 
Repugnant to the lot of all mankind; 
To lose a friend, a brother, or a son, 60 

Heav'n dooms each mortal, and its will is 

done: 
Awhile they sorrow, then dismiss their care; 
Fate gives the wound, and man is born to 

bear. 
But this insatiate the commission giv'n 
By Fate, exceeds; and tempts the wrath of 

Heav'n: 
Lo how his rage dishonest drags along 
Hector's dead earth, insensible of wrong ! 
Brave tho' he be, yet by no reason awed. 
He violates the laws of man and (rod ! ' 

* If equal honours by the partial skies 70 
Are doom'd both heroes ' (Juno thus re- 
plies), 
' If Thetis' son must no distinction know. 
Then hear, ye Gods ! the Patron of the 

Bow. 
But Hector only boasts a mortal claim. 
His birth deriving from a mortal dame : 
Achilles of 3'^our own ethereal race 
Springs from a Goddess, by a man's em- 
brace 
(A Goddess by ourself to Peleus giv'n, 
A man divine, and chosen friend of 

Heav'n) : 
To grace those nuptials, from the bright 
abode 80 

Yourselves were present; where this Min- 
strel God 



(Well-pleas'd to share the feast) amid the 

quire 
Stood proud to hymn, and tune his youth- 
ful lyre.' 
Then thus the Thund'rer checks th'' 

Imperial Dame: 
*Let not thy wrath the Court of Heav'n 

inflame ; 
Tlieir merits, nor their honours, are the 

same. 

But mine, and ev'ry God's peculiar grace 
Hector deserves, of all the Trojan race: 
Still on our shrines his grateful off' rings 

lay 
(The only honours men to Gods can pay), go 
Nor ever from our smoking altar ceas'd 
The pure libation, and the holy feast. 
Howe'er, by stealth to snatch the corse 

away. 
We will not: Thetis guards it night and day. 
But haste, and summon to our courts above 
The azure Queen: let her persuasion move 
Her furious son from Priam to receive 
The proffer'd ransom, and the corse to 

leave.' 
He added not: and Iris from the skies. 
Swift as a whirlwind, on the message 

flies; 100 

Meteorous the face of ocean sweeps, 
Refulgent gliding o'er the sable deeps. 
Between where Samos wide his forests 

spreads. 
And rocky Imbrus lifts its pointed heads, 
Down plunged the Maid (the parted waves 

resound); 
She plunged, and instant shot the dark pro- 
found. 
As, bearing death in the fallacious bait. 
From the bent angle sinks the leaden 

weight; 
So pass'd the Goddess thro' the closing 

wave, 109 

Where Thetis sorrow'd in her secret cave: 
There placed amidst her melancholy train 
(The blue-hair'd Sisters of the Sacred 

Main) 
Pensive she sat, revolving fates to come. 
And wept her godlike son's approaching 

doom. 
Then thus the Goddess of the Painted 

Bow: 

* Arise, O Thetis ! from thv seats below; 
'Tis Jove that calls.' 'And why' (the 

Dame replies) 

* Calls Jove his Thetis to the hated skies ? 



522 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Sad object as I am for heav'uly sight ! 

Ah ! may my sorrows ever shuu the 
light ! I20 

Howe'er, be Heav'n's almighty Sire obey'd.' 

She spake, and veil'd her head in sable 
shade, 

Which, flowing long, her graceful person 
clad; 

And forth she paced majestically sad. 
Then thro' the world of waters they re- 
pair 

(The way fair Iris led) to upper air. 

The deeps dividing, o'er the coast they 
rise. 

And touch with momentary flight the skies. 

There in the lightning's blaze the sire they 
found, 129 

And all the Gods in shining synod round. 

Thetis approach'd with anguish in her face 

(Minerva rising gave the mourner place), 

Ev'n Juno sought her sorrows to console. 

And offer'd from her hand the nectar bowl: 

She tasted, and resign'd it: then began 

The sacred Sire of Gods and mortal Man: 
* Thou com'st, fair Thetis, but with grief 
o'ercast, 

Maternal sorrows, long, ah long to last ! 

Suffice, we know, and we partake, thy 
cares : 

But yield to Fate, and hear what Jove de- 
clares. 140 

Nine days are past, since all the court 
above 

In Hector's cause have mov'd the ear of 
Jove; 

'T was voted, Hermes from his godlike 
foe 

By stealth should bear him, but we will'd 
not so: 

We will, thy sou himself the corse re- 
store. 

And to his conquest add this glory more. 

Then hie thee to him, and our mandate 
bear; 

Tell him he tempts the wrath of Heav'n 
too far: 

Nor let him more (our anger if he dread) 

Vent his mad vengeance on the sacred 
dead: 150 

But yield to ransom and the father's 
prayer. 

The mournful father Iris shall prepare, 

With gifts to sue ; and ofPer to his hands 

Whate'er his honour asks or heart de- 
mands.' 



His word the Silver-footed Queen at- 
tends. 

And from Olympus' snowy tops descends. 

Arrived, she heard the voice of loud la- 
ment, 

And echoing groans that shook the lofty 
tent. 

His friends prepare the victim, and dis- 
pose 

Repast unheeded, while he vents his 
woes. 160 

The Goddess seats her by her pensive 
son; 

She press'd his hand, and tender thus be- 
gun: 
' How long, unhappy ! shall thy sorrows 
flow? 

And thy heart waste with life-consuming 
woe ? 

Mindless of food, or love, whose pleasing 
reign 

Soothes weary life, and softens human 
pain. 

O snatch the moments yet within thy 
power; 

Not long to live, indulge the am'rous hour! 

Lo! Jove himself (for Jove's command I 
bear). 

Forbids to tempt the wrath of Heav'n too 
far. 170 

No longer then (his fury if thou dread) 

Detain the relics of great Hector dead; 

Nor vent on senseless earth thy vengeance 
vain. 

But yield to ransom, and restore the 
slain.' 
To whom Achilles: 'Be the ransom 
giv'n. 

And we submit, since such the will of 
Heav'n.' 
While thus they communed, from th* 
Olympian bowers 

Jove orders Iris to the Trojan towers: 

' Haste, winged Goddess, to the sacred 
town. 

And urge her Monarch to redeem his 
son; 180 

Alone, the Ilian ramparts let him leave, 

And bear what stern Achilles may re- 
ceive: 

Alone, for so we will: no Trojan near; 

Except, to place the dead with decent care, 

Some aged herald, who, with gentle hand, 

May the slow mules and funeral car com- 
mand. 



THE ILIAD 



523 



Nor let him death, uor let him danger 

dread, 
Safe thro' the foe by our protection led: 
Him Hermes to Achilles shall convey, 189 
Guard of his life, and partner of his way. 
Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare 
His age, nor touch one venerable hair: 
Some thought there must be iu a soul so 

brave. 
Some sense of duty, some desire to save.' 
Then down her bow the winged Iris 

drives. 
And swift at Priam's mournful court ar- 
rives: 
Where the sad sons beside their father's 

throne 
Sat bathed in tears, and answer'd groan 

with groan. 
And all amidst them lay the hoary sire 
(Sad scene of woe), his face, his wrapp'd 

attire 200 

Conceal'd from sight; with frantic hands 

he spread 
A shower of ashes o'er his neck and head. 
From room to room his pensive daughters 

roam: 
Whose shrieks and clamours fill the vaulted 

dome; 
Mindful of those, who, late their pride and 

Lie pale and breathless round the fields of 

Troy! 
Before the King Jove's messenger ap- 
pears. 
And thus in whispers greets his trembling 
ears: 
* Fear not, oh Father! no ill news I bear; 
From Jove I come, Jove makes thee still 
his care; 210 

For Hector's sake these walls he bids thee 

leave, 
And bear what stern Achilles may receive: 
Alone, for so he wills: no Trojan near. 
Except, to place the dead with decent care. 
Some aged herald, who, with gentle hand, 
May the slow mules and funeral car com- 
mand. 
Nor shalt thou death, nor shalt thou dan- 
ger dread; 
Safe thro' the foe by his protection led: 
Thee Hermes to Pelides shall convey. 
Guard of thy life, and partner of thy 
way ; 220 

Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare 
Thy age, nor touch one venerable hair: 



Some thought there must be in a soul so 
brave. 

Some sense of duty, some desire to save.' 
She spoke, and vanish'd. Priam bids 
prepare 

His gentle mules, and harness to the car; 

There, for the gifts, a polish'd casket lay: 

His pious sous the King's commands 
obey. 

Then pass'd the Monarch to his bridal- 
room. 

Where cedar-beams the lofty roofs per- 
fume, 230 

And where the treasures of his empire 
lay; 

Then call'd his Queen, and thus began to 
say: 
'Unhappy consort of a King distress'd! 

Partake the troubles of thy husband's 
breast: 

I saw descend the messenger of Jove, 

Who bids me try Achilles' mind to move, 

Forsake these ramparts, and with gifts ob- 
tain 

The corse of Hector, at yon navy slain. 

Tell me thy thought: my heart impels to 
go 

Thro' hostile camps, and bears me to the 
foe.' 240 

The hoary Monarch thus: her piercing 
cries 

Sad Hecuba renews, and then replies: 

* Ah! whither wanders thy distemper'd 
mind ; 

And where the prudence now that awed 
mankind. 

Thro' Phrygia once, and foreign regions 
known ? 

Now all confused, distracted, overthrown! 

Singly to pass thro' hosts of foes! to face 

(Oh heart of steel!) the murd'rer of thy 
race! 

To view that deathful eye, and wander 
o'er 

Those hands, yet red wdth Hector's noble 
gore! 250 

Alas! my lord! he knows not how to spare, 

And what his mercy, thy slain sons de- 
clare; 

So brave ! so many fall'n ! to calm his 
rage 

Vain were thy dignity, and vain thy age. 

No — pent in this sad palace, let us give 

To grief the wretched days we have to 
live. 



524 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Still, still, for Hector let our sorrows 

flow, 
Born to his own, and to his parents' woe! 
Doom'd from the hour his luckless life be- 
gun, 259 
To dogs, to vultures, and to Peleus' son! 
Oh! in his dearest blood might I allay 
My rage, and these barbarities repay! 
For ah! could Hector merit thus ? whose 

breath 
Expired not meanly, in inactive death: 
He pour'd his latest blood in manly fight^ 
And fell a hero in his country's right.' 
* Seek not to stay me, nor my soul af- 
fright 
With words of omen, like a bird of night ' 
(Replied unmov'd the venerable man): 
* 'T is Heav'n commands me, and you urge 

in vain. 270 

Had any mortal voice th' injunction laid. 
Nor Augur, Priest, nor Seer had been 

obey'd. 
A present Goddess brought the high com- 
mand: 
I saw, I heard her, and the word shall 

stand. 
I go, ye Gods ! obedient to your call: 
If in yon camp your powers have doom'd 

my fall. 
Content: by the same hand let me expire ! 
Add to the slaughter 'd son the wretched 

sire ! 
One cold embrace at least may be allow'd, 
And my last tears flow mingled with his 

blood ! ' 280 

Forth from his open'd stores, this said, 

he drew 
Twelve costly carpets of refulgent hue; 
As many vests, as many mantles told. 
And twelve fair veils, and garments stiff 

with gold; 
Two tripods next, and twice two chargers 

shine, 
With ten pure talents from the richest 

mine ; 
And last a large, well-labour'd bowl had 

place 
(The pledge of treaties once with friendly 

Thrace) ; 
Seem'd all too mean the stores he could 

employ, 289 

For one last look to buy him back to 

Troy ! 
Lo ! the sad father, frantic with his pain. 
Around him furious drives his menial train: 



In vain each slave with duteous care at- 
tends. 
Each office hurts him, and each face 

offends. 
'What make ye here, officious crowds!' 

(he cries) 
' Hence, nor obtrude your anguish on my 

eyes. 
Have ye no griefs at home, to fix ye there ? 
Am I the only object of despair ? 
Am I become my people's common show. 
Set up by Jove your spectacle of woe ? 300 
No, you must feel him too: yourselves 

must fall; 
The same stern God to ruin gives you all: 
Nor is great Hector lost by me alone: 
Your sole defence, your guardian power, is 

gone ! 
I see your blood the fields of Phrygia 

drown; 
I see the ruins of your smoking town ! 
Oh send me, Gods, ere that sad day shall 

come, 
A willing ghost to Pluto's dreary dome ! ' 
He said, and feebly drives his friends 

away: 
The sorr'wing friends his frantic rage 

obey. 310 

Next on his sons his erring fury falls, 
Polites, Paris, Agathon, he calls; 
His threats Deiphobus and Dius hear, 
Hippothoiis, Pammon, Helenus the seer, 
And gen'rous Antiphon; for yet these nine 
Survived, sad relics of his numerous line: 

' Inglorious sons of an unhappy sire ! 
Why did not all in Hector's cause expire ? 
Wretch that I am ! my bravest offspring 

slain. 
You, the disgrace of Priam's house, re- 
main ! 320 
Mestor the brave, renown'd in ranks of 

war. 
With Troilus, dreadful on his rushing car. 
And last great Hector, more than man 

divine. 
For sure he seem'd not of terrestrial line ! 
All those relentless Mars untimely slew. 
And left me these, a soft and servile crew. 
Whose da^'s the feast and wanton dance 

employ. 
Gluttons and flatt'rers, the contempt of 

Troy ! 
Why teach ye not my rapid wheels to run. 
And speed my journey to redeem my 

son ? ' 330 



THE ILIAD 



525 



The sons their father's wretched age 

revere, 
Forgive his anger, and produce the car. 
High on the seat the cabinet they bind: 
The new-made car with solid beauty shiued: 
Box was the yoke, emboss'd with costly 

pains, 
And hung with ringlets to receive the reins: 
Nine cubits long, the traces swept the 

ground ; 
These to the chaiiot's polish'd pole they 

bound. 
Then fix'd a ring the running reins to 

guide, 
And, close beneath, the gather'd ends were 

tied. 340 

Next with the gifts (the price of Hector 

slain) 
The sad attendants load the groaning wain: 
Last to the yoke the well-match'd mules 

they bring 
(The gift of Mysia to the Trojan King). 
But the fair horses, long his darling care, 
Himself receiv'd, and harness'd to his car: 
Griev'd as he was, he not this task denied; 
The hoary herald help'd him at his side. 
While careful these the gentle coursers 

join'd, 349 

Sad Hecuba approach'd with anxious mind; 
A golden bowl, that foam'd with fragrant 

wine 
(Libation destin'd to the Power divine), 
Held in her right, before the steeds she 

stands, 
And thus consigns it to the Monarch's 

hands: 
* Take this, and pour to Jove ; that, safe 

from harms, 
His grace restore thee to our roof and 

arms. 
Since, victor of thy fears, and slighting 

mine, 
Heav'n, or thy soul, inspire this bold de- 
sign. 
Pray to that God, who, high on Ida's brow 
Surveys thy desolated realms below, 360 
His winged messenger to send from high. 
And lead the way with heav'nly augury: 
Let the strong Sov'reign of the plumy race 
Tower on the right of yon ethereal space. 
That sign beheld, and strengthen'd from 

above. 
Boldly pursue the journey mark'd by Jove; 
But if the God his augury denies, 
Suppress thy impulse, nor reject advice.' 



• 'T is just ' (said Priam) ' to the Sire 

above 
To raise our hands; for who so good as 
Jove ? ' 370 

He spoke, and bade th' attendant hand- 
maid bring 
The purest water of the living spring 
(Her ready hands the ewer and basin held) ; 
Then took the golden cup his Queen had 

fill'd; 
On the mid pavement pours the rosy wine, 
Uplifts his eyes, and calls the Power divine: 

* Oh First and Greatest ! Heav'u's im- 

perial Lord ! 
On lofty Ida's holy hill ador'd ! 
To stern Achilles now direct my ways, 379 
And teach him mercy when a father prays. 
If such thy will, despatch from yonder sky 
Thy sacred bird, celestial augury ! 
Let the strong sov'reign of the plumy race 
Tower on the right of yon ethereal space: 
So shall thy suppliant, strengthen'd from 

above, 
Fearless pursue the journey mark'd by 

Jove.' 
Jove heard his prayer, and from the 

throne on high 
Despatch'd his bird, celestial augury ! 
The swift-wing'd chaser of the feather'd 

game. 
And known to Gods by Percnos' lofty 

name. 390 

Wide as appears some palace-gate dis- 
play 'd. 
So broad his pinions stretch'd their ample 

shade. 
As, stooping dexter with resounding wings, 
Th' imperial bird descends in airy rings. 
A dawn of joy in ev'ry face appears; 
The mourning matron dries her tira'rous 

tears. 
Swift on his car th' impatient Monarch 

sprung; 
The brazen portal in his passage rung. 
The mules preceding draw the loaded wain. 
Charged with the gifts; Idseus holds the 

rein : 400 

The King himself his gentle steeds con- 
trols, 
And thro' surrounding friends the chariot 

rolls; 
On his slow wheels the foll'wing people 

wait. 
Mourn at each step, and give him up to 

Fate; 



526 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



With hands uplifted, eye him as he pass'd, 

And gaze upon him as they gazed their last. 
Now forward fares the father on his way, 

Thro' the lone fields, and back to Iliou 
they. 

Great Jove beheld him as he cross'd the 
plain, 

And felt the woes of miserable man. 410 

Then thus to Hermes: ' Thou, whose con- 
stant cares 

Still succour mortals, and attend their 



prayers 



Behold an object to thy charge consign 'd; 

If ever pity touch'd thee for mankind, 

Go, guard the sire; th' observing foe pre- 
vent. 

And safe conduct him to Achilles' tent.' 
The God obeys, his golden pinions binds, 

And mounts incumbent on the wings of 
winds. 

That high thro' fields of air his flight sus- 
tain, 

O'er the wide earth, and o'er the boundless 
main: 420 

Then grasps the wand that causes sleep to 

fly, 

Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye: 
Thus arm'd, swift Hermes steers his airy 

way. 
And stoops on Hellespont's resounding sea. 
A beauteous youth, majestic and divine. 
He seem'd; fair offspring of some princely 

line ! 
Now Twilight veil'd the glaring face of Day, 
And clad the dusky fields in sober gray ; 
What time the herald and the hoary King, 
Their chariot stopping at the silver spring, 
That circling Ilus' ancient marble flows, 431 
AUow'd their mules and steeds a short 

repose. 
Thro' the dim shade the herald first espies 
A man's approach, and thus to Priam cries : 
*I mark some foe's advance: O King! 

beware; 
This hard adventure claims thy utmost 

care; 
For much I fear destruction hovers nigh: 
Our state asks counsel. Is it best to fly ? 
Or, old and helpless, at his feet to fall 
(Two wretched suppliants), and for mercy 

call ? ' 440 

Th' afflicted Monarch shiver'd with de- 
pair; 
Pale grew his face, and upright stood his 

hair; 



Sunk was his heart; his colour went and 
came; 

A sudden trembling shook his aged frame: 

When Hermes, greeting, touch'd his royal 
hand. 

And, gentle, thus accosts with kind de- 
mand : 

* Say whither, Father ! when each mortal 

sight 
Is seaPd in sleep, thou wander'st thro' 

the night ? 
Why roam thy mules and steeds the plains 

along. 
Thro' Grecian foes, so numerous and so 

strong ? 450 

What couldst thou hope, shouldst these 

thy treasures view: 
These, who with endless hate thy race 

pursue ? 
For what defence, alas ! couldst thou pro- 
vide ? 
Thyself not young, a weak old man thy 

guide. 
Yet suffer not thy soul to sink with 

dread ; 
From me no harm shall touch thy rev'rend 

head: 
From Greece I '11 guard thee too ; for in 

those lines 
The living image of my father shines.' 
'Thy words, that speak benevolence of 

mind. 
Are true, my son ! ' (the godlike Sire re- 

join'd) 460 

' Great are my hazards ; but the Gods sur- 
vey 
My steps and send thee, guardian of my 

way. 
Hail ! and be blest; for scarce of mortal 

kind 
Appear thy form, thy feature, and thy 

mind.' 

* Nor true are all thy words, nor erring 

wide ' 

(The sacred Messenger of Heav'n replied) ; 

' But say, convey'st thou thro' the lonely 
plains 

What yet most precious of thy store re- 
mains, 

To lodge in safety with some friendly 
hand? 

Prepared perchance to leave thy native 
land ? 470 

Or fly'st thou now ? What hopes can Troy 
retain, 



THE ILIAD 



527 



Thy matchless son, her guard and glory, 

slain ? ' 
The King, alarm'd: 'Say what, and 

whence thou art, 
Who search the sorrows of a parent's 

heart. 
And know so well how godlike Hector 

died ? ' 
Thus Priam spoke, and Hermes thus re- 
plied: 
'You tempt me. Father, and with pity 

touch: 
On this sad subject you inquire too much. 
Oft have these eyes the godlike Hector 

view'd 
In glorious fight, with Grecian blood im- 
brued: 480 
I saw him, when, like Jove, his flames he 

toss'd 
On thousand ships, and wither'd half a 

host: 
I saw, but help'd not, stern Achilles' ire 
Forbade assistance, and enjoy'd the fire. 
For him I serve, of Myrmidonian race; 
One ship convey'd us from our native 

place; 
Polyctor is my sire, an honour'd name, 
Old, like thyself, and not unknown to 

fame; 
Of sev'n his sons, by whom the lot was cast 
To serve our Prince, it fell on me the 

last. 490 

To watch this quarter my adventure falls ; 
For with the morn the Greeks attack your 

walls; 
Sleepless they sit, impatient to engage, 
And scarce their rulers check their mar- 
tial rage.' 
* If then thou art of stern Pelides' train,* 
(The mournful Monarch thus rejoin'd 

again), 
* Ah, tell me truly, where, oh ! where are 

laid 
My son's dear relics ? what befalls him 

dead ? 
Have dogs dismember'd on the naked 

plains, 499 

Or yet uumangled rest, his cold remains ? ' 
' O Favour'd of the Skies 1 ' (thus an- 

swer'd then 
The Power that mediates between Gods and 

men) 
*Nor dogs, nor vultures, have thy Hector 

rent. 
But whole he lies, neglected in the tent: 



This the twelfth ev'ning since he rested 
there, 

Untouch'd by worms, untainted by the 
air. 

Still as Aurora's ruddy beam is spread. 

Round his friend's tomb Achilles drags the 
dead; 

Yet undisfigured, or in limb or face, 

All fresh he lies, with every living 
grace, 5*0 

Majestical in death ! No stains are found 

O'er all the corse, and closed is ev'ry 
wound; 

Tho' many a wound they gave. Some 
heav'nly care, 

Some hand divine, preserves him ever 
fair: 

Or all the Host of Heav'n, to whom he 
led 

A life so grateful, still regard him dead.' 
Thus spoke to Priam the celestial Guide, 

And joyful thus the royal Sire replied: 

Bless'd is the man who pays the Gods 
above 5 19 

The constant tribute of respect and love ! 

Those who inhabit the Olympian bower 

My son forgot not, in exalted power; 

And Heav'n, that ev'ry virtue bears in 
mind, 

Ev'n to the ashes of the just is kind. 

But thou, oh geu'rous youth ! this goblet 
take, 

A pledge of gratitude for Hector's sake; 

And while the fav'ring Gods our steps 
survey, 

Safe to Pelides' tent conduct my way.* 
To whom the latent God: 'O King, for- 
bear 

To tempt my youth, for apt is youth to 
err: ^ ^ 530 

But can I, absent from my Prince's sight, 

Take gifts in secret, that must shun the 
light ? 

What from our master's interest thus we 
draw. 

Is but a licens'd theft that 'scapes the 
law. 

Respecting him, my soul abjures th' of- 
fence ; 

And, as the crime, I dread the conse- 
quence. 

Thee, far as Argos, pleas'd I could con- 
vey; 

Guard of thy life, and partner of thy 
way: 



528 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



On thee attend, thy safety to maintain, 
O'er pathless forests, or the roaring 

main.' 540 

He said, then took the chariot at a bound. 

And snateh'd the reins, and whirl'd the lash 

around: 
Before th' inspiring God that urged them 

on 
The coursers fly, with spirit not their own. 
And now they reach'd the naval walls, and 

found 
The guards repastiug, while the bowls go 

round : 
On these the virtue of his wand he tries, 
And pours deep slumber on their watchful 

eyes: 
Then heav'd the massy gates, remov'd the 

bars, 549 

And o'er the trenches led the rolling cars. 
Unseen, thro' all the hostile camp they 

went, 
And now approach'd Pelides' lofty tent. 
Of fir the roof was rais'd, and cover'd o'er 
With reeds collected from the marshy 

shore ; 
And, fenc'd with palisades, a hall of state 
(The work of soldiers), where the hero sat. 
Large was the door, whose well-compacted 

strength 
A solid pine-tree barr'd of wondrous length; 
Scarce three strong Greeks could lift its 

mighty weight. 
But great Achilles singly closed the gate. 560 
This Hermes (such the power of Gods) set 

wide; 
Then swift alighted the celestial guide. 
And thus, reveal'd: 'Hear, Prince! and 

understand 
Thou ow'st thy guidance to no mortal hand; 
Hermes 1 am, descended from above, 
The King of Arts, the Messenger of Jove. 
Farewell: to shun Achilles' sight I fly; 1 
Uncommon are such favours of the sky, V 
Nor stand confess'd to frail mortality. J 
Now fearless enter, and prefer thy 

prayers; _ 570 

Adjure him b}^ his father's silver hairs, 
His son, his mother ! urge him to bestow 
Whatever pity that stern heart can know.' 
Thus having said, he vanish'd from his 

eyes. 
And in a moment shot into the skies: 
The King, confirm'd from Heav'n, alighted 

there. 
And left his as:ed herald on the car. 



With solemn pace thro' various rooms he 

went, 
And found Achilles in his inner tent: 579 
There sat the hero; Alcimus the brave, 
And great Automedon, attendance gave; 
These serv'd his person at the royal feast; 
Around, at awful distance, stood the rest. 
Unseen by these, the King his entry 

made; 
And, prostrate now before Achilles laid, 
Sudden (a venerable sight !) appears; 
Embraced his knees, and bathed his hands 

in tears; 
Those direful hands his kisses press'd, im- 
brued 
Ev'n with the best, the dearest of his 

blood ! 
As when a wretch (who, conscious of his 

crime, 590 

Pursued for murder, flies his native clime) 
Just gains some frontier, breathless, pale, 

amazed ! 
All gaze, all wonder: thus Achilles gazed: 
Thus stood th' attendants stupid with sur- 
prise: 
All mute, yet seem'd to question with their 

eyes: 
Each look'd on other, none the silence 

broke. 
Till thus at last the kingly suppliant spoke : 
' Ah think, thou favour'd of the Powers 

divine ! 
Think of thy father's age, and pity mine ! 
In me, that father's rev'rend image 

trace, 600 

Those silver hairs, that venerable face; 
His trembling limbs, his helpless person, 

see! 
In all my equal, but in misery ! 
Yet now, perhaps, some turn of human 

Fate 
Expels him helpless from his peaceful 

state ; 
Think, from some powerful foe thou see'st 

him fly. 
And beg protection with a feeble cry. 
Yet still one comfort in his soul may rise; 
He hears his son still lives to glad his eyes; 
And, hearing, still may hope a better 

day 610 

May send him thee, to chase that foe 

away. 
No comfort to my griefs, no hopes re- 
main. 
The best, the bravest of my sons are slain ! 



THE ILIAD 



529 



Yet what a race ! ere Greece to Ilion 
came, 

The pledge of many a lov'd and loving 
dame ! 

Nineteen one mother bore — Dead, all are 
dead ! 

How oft, alas ! has wretched Priam bled ! 

Still one was left, their loss to recom- 
pense ; 

His father's hope, his country's last de- 
fence. 

Him too thy rage has slain ! beneath thy 
steel, 620 

Unhappy, in his country's cause, he fell ! 

For him, thro' hostile camps I bent my 
way. 

For him thus prostrate at thy feet I lay; 

Large gifts, proportion'd to thy wrath, I 
bear: 

Oh, hear the wretched, and the Gods re- 
vere ! 

Think of thy father, and this face behold ! 

See him in me, as helpless and as old; 

Tho' not so wretched : there he yields to 
me, 

The first of men in sov'reign misery. 

Thus forc'd to kneel, thus grov'ling to 
embrace 630 

The scourge and ruin of my realm and 
race: 

Suppliant my children's murd'rer to im- 
plore, 

And kiss those hands yet reeking with their 
gore! ' 
These words soft pity in the Chief in- 
spire, 

Touch'd with the dear remembrance of his 
sire. 

Then with his hand (as prostrate still he 

lay) 

The old man's cheek he gently turn'd 

away. 
Now each by turns indulged the gush of 

woe; 
And now the mingled tides together flow: 
This low on earth, that gently bending 

o'er, 640 

A father one, and one a son deplore : 
But great Achilles diff'rent passions rend. 
And now his Sire he mourns, and now his 

Friend. 
Th' infectious softness thro' the heroes 

ran; 
One universal solemn shower began; 
They bore as heroes, but they felt as man. ^ 



Satiate at length with unavailing woes, 
From the high throne divine Achilles rose ; 
The rev'rend Monarch by the hand he 

rais'd ; 
On his white beard and form majestic 
gazed, 650 

Not unrelenting: then serene began 
With words to soothe the miserable man: 
* Alas ! what weight of anguish hast thou 
known. 
Unhappy Prince ! thus guardless and alone 
To pass thro' foes, and thus undaunted face 
The man whose fury has destroy'd thj 

race ! 
Heav'n sure has arm'd thee with a heart of 

steel, 
A strength proportion'd to the woes you 

feel. 
Rise then: let reason mitigate our care: 
To mourn avails not: man is born to bear. 
Such is, alas! the Gods' severe decree; 661 
They, only they, are blest, and only free. 
Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever 

stood, 
The source of evil one, and one of good ; 
From thence the cup of mortal man he 

fills, 
Blessings to these, to those distributes ills; 
To most he mingles both: the wretch de- 
creed 
To taste the bad, unmix'd, is curs'd in- 
deed: 
Pursued by wrongs, by meagre famine 

driv'n, 
He wanders, outcast both of earth and 
Heav'n. 670 

The happiest taste not Happiness sincere. 
But find the cordial draught is dash'd with 

Care. 
Who more than Peleus shone in wealth 

and power ? 
What stars concurring bless'd his natal 

hour ! 
A realm, a Goddess, to his wishes giv'n, 
Graced by the Gods with all the gifts of 

Heav'n I 
One evil, yet, o'ertakes his latest day; 
No race succeeding to imperial sway: 
An only son I and he (alas !) ordain'd 
To fall untimely in a foreign land ! 680 

See him, in Troy, the pious care decline 
Of his weak age, to live the curse of thine! 
Thou too, old man, hast happier days be- 
held; 
In riches once, in children once excell'd; 



530 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Extended Phrygia own'd thy ample reign, "j 
And aX[ fair Lesbos' blissful seats contain, I 
And all wide Hellespont's unmeasured | 

main. 
But since the God his hand has pleas'd to 

turn. 
And fill thy measure from his bitter urn. 
What sees the sun, but hapless heroes' falls ? 
War, and the blood of men, surround thy 

walls ! 691 

What must be, must be. Bear thy lot, 

nor shed 
These unavailing sorrows o'er the dead; 
Thou canst not call him from the Stygian 

shore, 
Put thou, alas! may'st live to suffer more! ' 
To whom the King: ' O favour'd of the" 

skies! 
Here let me grow to earth ! since Hector > 

lies 
On the bare beach, deprived of obsequies. ^ 

give me Hector: to my eyes restore 

His corse, and take the gifts : I ask no 
more ! 700 

Thou, as thou may'st, these boundless stores 
enjoy; 

Safe may'st thou sail, and turn thy wrath 
from Troy; 

So shall thy pity and forbearance give 

A weak old man to see the light, and live! ' 
* Move me no more ' (Achilles thus re- 
plies. 

While kindling anger sparkled in his eyes), 

'Nor seek by tears my steady soul to bend; 

To yield thy Hector I myself intend: 

For know, from Jove my Goddess-mother 
came 709 

(Old Ocean's daughter. Silver - footed 
Dame) ; 

Nor com'st thou but by Heav'n; nor com'st 
alone ; 

Some God impels with courage not thy 
own: 

No human hand the weighty gate un-' 
barr'd, 

Nor could the boldest of our youth have 
dared 

To pass our out-works, or elude the guard. _ 

Cease; lest, neglectful of high Jove's com- 
mand, 

1 shew thee, King! thou tread'st on hostile 

land; 
Release my knees, thy suppliant arts give 

o'er. 
And shake the purpose of my soul no more.' 



720 



The Sire obey'd him, trembling and o'er 
awed. 
Achilles, like a lion, rush'd abroad; 
Automedon and Alcimus attend. 
Whom most he honour'd, since he lost his 

friend; 
These to unyoke the mules and horses went, 
And led the hoary herald to the tent: 
Next, heap'd on high, the numerous pre- 
sents bear 
(Great Hector's ransom) from the polish'd 

car. 
Two splendid mantles, and a carpet spread. 
They leave, to cover and enwrap the dead : 
Then call the handmaids, with assistant 
toil 730 

To wash the body, and anoint with oil. 
Apart from Priam; lest th' unhappy sire, 
Provok'd to passion, once more rouse to 

ire 
The stern Pelides; and nor sacred age. 
Nor Jove's command, should check the ris- 
ing rage. 
This done, the garments o'er the corse they 

spread ; 
Achilles lifts it to the funeral bed: 
Then, while the body on the car they laid. 
He groans, and calls on lov'd Patroclus' 
shade : 
* If, in that gloom which never light must 
know, 740 

The deeds of mortals touch the ghosts 

below; 
O Friend ! forgive me, that I thus fulfil 
(Restoring Hector) Heav'n's unquestion'd 

will. 
The gifts the Father gave, be ever thine. 
To grace thy manes, and adorn thy shrine.' 
He said, and, ent'ring, took his seat of 
state. 
Where full before him rev'rend Priam sate: 
To whom, composed, the godlike Chief be- 
gun: 
' Lo! to thy prayer restor'd, thy breathless 

son; 
Extended an the funeral couch he lies; 750' 
And, soon as morning paints the eastern 

skies. 
The sight is granted to thy longing eyes. 
But now the peaceful hours of sacred 

night 
Demand refection, and to rest invite: 
Nor thou, O Father! thus consumed with 

woe. 
The common cares that nourish life forego. 



THE ILIAD 



531 



Not thus did Niobe, of form divine, 

A parent once, whose sorrows equall'd 

thine: 
Six youthful sons, as many blooming 

maids, 759 

In one sad day beheld the Stygian shades: 
Those by Apollo's silver bow were slain, 
These, Cynthia's arrows stretch'd upon 

the plain. 
So was her pride chastised by wrath divine. 
Who match'd her own with bright La- 

tona's line; 
But two the Goddess, twelve the Queen 

enjoy 'd; 
Those boasted twelve th' avenging two 

destroy 'd. 
Steep'd in their blood, and in the dust out- 
spread. 
Nine days, neglected, lay exposed the 

dead; 
None by to weep them, to inhume them 

none 
(For Jove had turn'd the nation all to 

stone); 770 

The Gods themselves, at length, relent- 
ing, gave 
Th' unhappy race the honours of a grave. 
Herself a rock (for such was Heav'n's 

high will) 
Thro' deserts wild now pours a weeping 

rill; 
Where round the bed whence Acheloiis 

springs. 
The wat'ry fairies dance in mazy rings: 
There, high on Sipylus's shady brow. 
She stands, her own sad monument of 

woe: 
The rock for ever lasts, the tears for ever 

flow. 
Such griefs, O King ! have other parents 

known : 780 

Remember theirs, and mitigate thy own. 
The care of Heav'n thy Hector has ap- 

pear'd ; 
Nor shall he lie unwept, and uninterr'd; 
Soon may thy aged cheeks in tears be 

drown'd. 
And all the eyes of Ilion stream around.' 

He said, and, rising, chose the victim ewe 
With silver fleece, which his attendants 

slew. 
The limbs they sever from the reeking 

hide, 
With skill prepare them, and in parts di- 
vide: 789 



Each on the coals the sep'rate morsels lays. 
And hasty snatches from the rising blaze. 
With bread the glitt'ring canisters they 

load. 
Which round the board Automedon be- 

stow'd: 
The chief himself to each his portion placed, 
And each indulging shared in sweet re- 
past. 
When now the rage of hunger was re- 

press'd. 
The wond'ring Hero eyes his royal Guest; 
No less the royal Guest the Hero eyes, 
His godlike aspect, and majestic size; 
Here, youthful grace and noble fire en- 
gage, _ 800 
And there, the mild benevolence of age. 
Thus gazing long, the silence neither broke 
(A solemn scene) ; at length the father 
spoke: 
* Permit me now, belov'd of Jove, to 
steep 
My careful temples in the dew of sleep: 
For since the day that number'd with the 

dead 
My hapless son, the dust has been my bed. 
Soft sleep a stranger to my weeping eyes. 
My only food, my sorrows and my sighs! 
Till now , encauraged by the grace you 
give, 810 

I share thy banquet, and consent to live.' 

With that, Achilles bade prepare the bed. 
With purple soft, and shaggy carpets 

spread ; 
Forth, by the flaming lights, they bend their 

way, 
And place the couches, and the cov'rings 

lay. 
Then he : * Now, Father, sleep, but sleep 

not here. 
Consult thy safety, and forgive my fear, 
Lest any Argive (at this hour awake, 
To ask our counsel, or our orders take), 
Approaching sudden to our open tent, 820 
Perchance behold thee, and our grace pre- 
vent. 
Should such report thy honour'd person 

here, 
The King of Men the ransom might defer. 
But say with speed, if aught of thy desire 
Remains unask'd, what time the rites re- 
quire 
T' inter thy Hector ? For, so long we stay 
Our slaught'ring arm, and bid the hosts 
obey.' 



532 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



' If then thy will permit ' (the Monarch 

said), 
* To finish all due honours to the dead, 
This, of thy grace, accord: to thee are 

known 830 

The fears of Ilion, closed within her town; 
And at what distance from our walls as- 
pire 
The hills of Ide, and forests for the fire. 
Nine days to vent our sorrows I request. 
The tenth shall see the funeral and the 

feast; 
The next, to raise his monument be giv'n; 
The twelfth we war, if war be doom'd by 

Heav'n ! ' 
* This thy request ' (replied the Chief) 

'enjoy: 
Till then, our arms suspend the fall of 

Troy.' 
Then gave his hand at parting, to pre- 
vent 840 
The old man's fears, and turn'd within the 

tent 
Where fair Briseis, bright in blooming 

charms. 
Expects her hero with desiring arms. 
But in the porch the King and Herald 

rest. 
Sad dreams of care yet wand'ring in their 

breast. 
Now Gods and men the gifts of sleep 

partake ; 
Industrious Hermes only was awake, 
The King's return revolving in his mind. 
To pass the ramparts, and the watch to 

blind. 
The Power descending hover'd o'er his 

head, 850 

And, ' Sleep'st thou, Father ? ' (thus the 

vision said): 
*Now dost thou sleep, when Hector is re- 

stor'd ? 
Nor fear the Grecian foes, or Grecian lord ? 
Thy presence here should stern Atrides 

see. 
Thy still-surviving sons may sue for thee; 
May offer all thy treasures yet contain, 
To spare thy age; and offer all in vain.' 
Waked with the word, the trembling Sire 

arose, 
And rais'd his friend: the God before him 

goes: 
He joins the mules, directs them with his 

hand, 860 

And moves in silence thro' the hostile land. 



When now to Xanthus' yellow stream they 

drove 
(Xanthus, immortal progeny of Jove), 
The winged Deity forsook their view, 
And in a moment to Olympus flew. 

Now shed Aurora round her saffron, ray, 
Sprung thro' the gates of light, and gave 

the day. 
Charged with their mournful load to Ilion 

go 
The Sage and King, majestically slow. 
Cassandra first beholds, from llion's spire, 
The sad procession of her hoary sire; 871 
Then, as the pensive pomp advanc'd more 

near 
(Her breathless brother stretch'd upon the 

bier), 
A shower of tears overflows her beauteous 

eyes, 
Alarming thus all Ilion with her cries: 
* Turn here your steps, and here your eyes 

employ. 
Ye wretched daughters, and ye sons of 

Troy ! 
If e'er ye rush'd in crowds, with vast de- 
light, 
To hail your hero glorious from the fight; 
Now meet him dead, and let your sorrows 

flow ! 880 

Your common triumph, and your common 

woe.' 
In thronging crowds they issue to the 

plains. 
Nor man, nor woman, in the walls remains: 
In ev'ry face the self-same grief is shewn, 
And Troy sends forth one universal groan. 
At Scsea's gates, they meet the mourning 

wain. 
Hang on the wheels, and grovel round the 

slain. 
The wife and mother, frantic with despair. 
Kiss his pale cheek, and rend their scatter'd 

hair; 889 

Thus wildly wailing, at the gates they 

lay; 
And there had sigh'd and sorrow'd out the 

day; 
But godlike Priam from the chariot rose; 
' Forbear ' (he cried) * this violence of woes; 
First to the palace let the car proceed, 
Then pour your boundless sorrows o'er the 

dead.' 
The waves of people at his word divide; 
Slow rolls the chariot thro' the foll'wing 

tide: 



THE ILIAD 



533 



Ev'n to the palace the sad pomp they wait: 
They weep, and place him on the bed of 

state. 
A melancholy choir attend aronnd, 900 

With plaintive sighs and music's solemn 

sound: 
Alternately they sing, alternate flow 
Th' obedient tears, melodious in their woe; 
While deeper sorrows groan from each full 

heart. 
And Nature speaks at ev'ry pause of Art. 
First to the corse the weeping consort 

flew; 
Around his neck her milk-white arms she 

threw: 
And, ' Oh my Hector ! oh my lord ! ' she 

cries, 
* Snatch'd in thy bloom from these desiring 

eyes ! 
Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone ! 
And I abandon'd, desolate, alone ! 911 

An only son, once comfort of our pains, 
Sad product now of hapless love, remains ! 
Never to manly age that son shall rise, 
Or with increasing graces glad my eyes; 
For Ilion now (her great defender slain) 
Shall sink a smoking ruin on the plain. 
W^ho now protects her wives with guardian 

care ? 
Who saves her infants from the rage of 

war ? 
Now hostile fleets must waft those infants 

o'er 920 

(Those wives must wait them) to a foreign 

shore ! 
Thou too, my son ! to barb'rous climes 

shalt go. 
The sad companion of thy mother's woe; 
Driv'u hence a slave before the victor's 

sword, 
Condemn'd to toil for some inhuman lord: 
Or else some Greek, whose father press'd 

the plain. 
Or son, or brother, by great Hector slain. 
In Hector's blood his vengeance shall enjoy. 
And hurl thee headlong from the towers 

of Troy. 
For thy stern father never spared a foe: 930 
Thence all these tears, and all this scene of 

woe ! 
Thence, many evils his sad parents bore. 
His parents many, but his consort more. 
Why gavest thou not to me thy dying 

hand ? 
And why receiv'd not I thy last command ? 



Some word thou would'st have spoke, 

which, sadly dear, 
iVIy soul might keep, or utter with a tear; 
Which never, never could be lost in air, 
Fix'd in my heart, and oft repeated 

there !' 
Thus to her weeping maids she makes 

her moan: 940 

Her weeping handmaids echo groan for 

groan. 
The mournful mother next sustains her 

part: 
* O thou, the best, the dearest to my heart ! 
Of all my race thou most by Heav'n ap- 

prov'd. 
And by th' immortals ev'n in death be- 

lov'd ! 
While all my other sons in barb'rous bands 
Achilles bound, and sold to foreign lands, 
This felt no chains, but went, a glorious 

ghost. 
Free, and a hero, to the Stygian coast. 949 
Sentenc'd, 't is true, by his inhuman doom. 
Thy noble corse was dragg'd around the 

tomb 
(The tomb of him thy warlike arm had 

slain); 
Ungen'rous insult, impotent and vain ! 
Yet glow'st thou fresh with ev'ry living 

grace. 
No mark of pain, or violence of face; 
Rosy and fair ! as Phcebus' silver bow 
Dismiss' d thee gentlv to the shades be- 
low ! ' 
Thus spoke the Dame, and melted into 

tears. 
Sad Helen next in pomp of grief appears: 
Fast from the shining sluices of her eyes 960 
Fall the round crystal drops, while thus she 

cries: 
' Ah, dearest friend ! in whom the Gods had 

join'd 
The mildest manners with the bravest 

mind ! 
Now twice ten years (unhappy years) are 

o'er 
Since Paris brought me to the Trojan 

shore 
(Oh had I perish'd, ere that form divine 
Seduced this soft, this easy heart of mine!) 
Yet was it ne'er my fate from thee to find 
A deed ungentle, or a word unkind: 
When others curs'd the authoress of their 

woe, 970 

Thy pity check'd my sorrows in their flow: 



534 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



If some proud brother eyed me with dis- 
dain, 
Or scornful sister with her sweeping 

train, 

Thy gentle accents soften'd all my pain. ^ 
For thee I mourn; and mourn myself in 

thee, 
The wretched source of all this misery ! 
The fate I caus'd, for ever I bemoan; 
Sad Helen has no friend, now thou art 

gone ! 
Thro' Troy's wide streets abandon'd shall I 

roam, 979 

In Troy deserted, as abhorr'd at home ! * 
So spoke the Fair, with sorrow-streaming 

eye: 
Distressful beauty melts each stander-by; 
On all around th' infectious sorrow grows; 
But Priam check'd the torrent as it rose: 
* Perform, ye Trojans ! what the rites re- 
quire, 
And fell the forests for a funeral pyre ! 
Twelve days nor foes nor secret ambush 

dread; 
Achilles grants these honours to the dead.' 
He spoke; and at his word the Trojan 

train 989 

Their mules and oxen harness to the wain, 
Pour thro' the gates, and, fell'd from Ida's 

crown. 
Roll back the gather'd forests to the town. 
These toils continue nine succeeding days. 
And high in air a sylvan structure raise. 
But when the tenth fair morn began to 

shine. 
Forth to the pile was borne tlie man di- 
vine. 
And placed aloft: while all, with streaming 

eyes. 
Beheld the flames and rolling smokes 

arise. 
Soon as Aurora, Daughter of the Dawn, 
With rosy lustre streak'd the dewy 

lawn, I coo 

Again the mournful crowds surround the 

pyre. 
And quench with wine the yet-remaining 

fire. 
The snowy bones his friends and brothers 

place 
(With tears collected) in a golden vase; 
The golden vase in purple palls they 

roll'd, 
Of softest texture, and inwrought with 

gold. 



Last, o'er the urn the sacred earth they 

spread. 
And rais'd the tomb, memorial of the 

dead 
(Strong guards and spies, till all the rites 

were done, 
Watch'd from the rising to the setting 

sun). loio 

All Troy then moves to Priam's court 

again, 
A solemn, silent, melancholy train: 
Assembled there, from pious toil they rest, 
And sadly shared the last sepulchral feast. 

Such honours Ilion to her hero paid, 
And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's 

shade. 



POPE'S CONCLUDING NOTE. 

We have now passed through the Iliad, and 
seen the anger of Achilles, and the terrible 
effects of it, at an end : as that only was the 
subject of the poem, and the nature of epic 
poetry would not permit our author to proceed 
to the event of the war, it may perhaps be ac- 
ceptable to the common reader to give a short 
account of what happened to Troy and the 
chief actors in this poem, after the conclusion 
of it. 

I need not mention that Troy was taken soon 
after the death of Hector, by the stratagem of 
the wooden horse, the particulars of which are 
described by Virgil in the second book of the 
^neis. 

Achilles fell before Troy, by the hand of 
Paris, by the shot of an arrow in his heel, as 
Hector had prophesied at his death, book xxii. 

The unfortunate Priam was killed by Pyr- 
rhus, the son of Achilles. 

A jax, after the death of Achilles, had a con- 
test with Ulysses for the armour of Vulcan, 
but being defeated in his aim, he slew himself 
through indignation. 

Helen, after the death of Paris, married 
Deiphobus his brother, and at the taking of 
Troy betrayed him, in order to reconcile her- 
self to Menelaus, her first husband, who re- 
ceived her again into favour. 

Agamemnon at his return was barbarously 
murdered by ^gisthus, at the instigation of 
Clytsemnestra, his wife, who in his absence had 
dishonoured his bed with ^.gisthus. 

Diomed, after the fall of Troy, was expelled 
his own country, and scarce escaped with 
life from his adulterous wife ^giale ; but at 
last was received by Daunus in Apulia, and 
shared his kingdom ; it is uncertain how he 
died. 



THE ODYSSEY 



535 



Nestor lived in peace, with his children, in 
Pylos, his native country. 

Ulysses also, after innumerable troubles by 
sea and land, at last returned in safety to 
Ithaca, which is the subject of Homer s Odys- 
sey. 

I must end these notes by discharg'ing- my 
duty to two of my friends, which is the more 
an indispensable piece of justice, as the one of 
them is since dead. The merit of their kind- 
ness to me will appear infinitely the greater, as 
the task they undertook was, in its own nature, 
of much more labour, than either pleasure or 
reputation. The larger part of tlie extracts 
from Eustathius, together with several excel- 
lent observations, were sent me by Mr. Broome : 
and the whole Essay upon Homer was written, 
upon such memoirs as I had collected, by the 
late Dr. Parnell, Archdeacon of Clogher in 
Ireland. How very much that gentleman's 
friendship prevailed over his genius, in detain- 
ing a writer of his spirit in the drudgery of 
removing the rubbish of past pedants, will soon 
appear to the world, when they shall see those 



beautiful pieces of poetry, the publication of 
which he left to my charge, almost with his 
dying breath. 

For what remains, I beg to be excused from 
the ceremonies of taking leave at the end of 
my work ; and from embarrassing myself, or 
others, with any defences or apologies about 
it. But instead of endeavouring to raise a 
vain monument to myself, of the merits or 
difficulties of it (which must be left to the 
world, to truth, and to posterity), let me leave 
behind me a memorial of my friendship with 
one of the most valuable men, as well as finest 
writers, of my age and country ; one who has 
tried, and knows by his own experience how 
hard an undertaking it is, to do justice to 
Homer; and one who (I am sure) sincerely 
rejoices with me at the period of my labours. 
To him, therefore, having brought this long 
work to a conclusion, I desire to dedicate it ; 
and to have the honour and satisfaction of 
placing together, in this manner, the names of 
Mr. CoNGREVE, and of 

A. POPE. 

March 25, 1720. 



THE ODYSSEY 



The remarkable success which met the trans- 
lation of The Iliad, encouraged Pope to at- 
tempt The Odyssey. He had already made 
some experiment at translating certain frag- 
ments, which had been published in one of 
Lintot's Miscellanies in 1714. His experience 
with The Iliad had, however, left him no strong 
inclination for the drudgery of translation. He 
therefore enlisted the services of two friends, 
Fenton and Broome. Eventually he himself 
translated only the third, fifth, seventh, ninth, 
thirteenth, fourteenth, seventeenth, twenty- 
first, twenty-second, and twenty-fourth books, 
and most of the tenth and the fifteenth. Pope 



was slow in admitting publicly the extent of 
his indebtedness to his collaborators, but it has 
long been known that Fenton translated the 
first, fourth, nineteenth, and twentieth books, 
and Broome the rest. Fenton's manuscript has 
been preserved in the British Museum and shows 
few alterations in Pope's hand. Broome's work 
is said to have needed much more careful re- 
vision, but there is no direct evidence in the 
matter. Broome supplied all the notes. With 
the exception of the hardly distinguishable por- 
tions of the tenth and fifteenth books which he 
accredited to his helpers, only Pope's own work 
is included here. 



BOOK III 

THE INTERVIEW OF TELEMACHUS AND NESTOR 
THE ARGUMENT 

Telemachus, guided by Pallas in the shape of 
Mentor, arrives in the morning at Pylos, 
where Nestor and his sons are sacrificing on 
the sea-shore to Neptune. Telemachus de- 
clares the occasion of his coming, and Nestor 
relates what passed in their return from Troy, 
how their fleets were separated, and he never 
since heard of Ulysses. They discourse con- 
cerning the death of Agamemnon, the re- 
venge of Orestes, and the injuries of the 



suitors. Nestor advises him to go to Sparta, 
and inquire further of Menelaus. The sac- 
rifice ending with the night, Minerva vanishes 
from them in the form of an eagle : Tele- 
machus is lodged in the palace. The next 
morning they sacrifice a bullock to Minerva ; 
and Telemachus proceeds on his journey to 
Sparta, attended by Pisistratus. 
The scene lies on the sea-shore of Pylos. 

The sacred San, above the waters rais'd, 
Thro'Heav'n's eternal brazen portals blazed; 
And wide o'er earth diffused his cheering 

ray, 
To Gods and men to give the golden day. 



536 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Now on the coast of Pyle the vessel falls, 
Before old Neleus' venerable walls. 
There, suppliant to the Monarch of the 

Flood, 
At nine green theatres the Pylians stood. 
Each held five hundred (a deputed train), 
At each, nine oxen on the sand lay slain. lo 
They taste the entrails, and the altars load 
With smoking thighs, an olf'ring to the 

God. 
Full for the port the Ithacensians stand. 
And furl their sails, and issue on the lando 
Telemachus already press'd the shore; 
Not first; the Power of Wisdom march 'd 

before. 
And, ere the sacrificing throng he join'd, 
Admonish'd thus his well-attending mind: 
* Proceed, my son ! this youthful shame 
expel; 
An honest business never blush to tell. 20 
To learn what Fates thy wretched sire de- 
tain, 
We pass'd the wide immeasurable main. 
Meet then the senior far renown 'd for 

sense. 
With rev'rend awe, but decent confidence: 
Urge him with truth to frame his fair re- 
plies; 
And sure he will: for Wisdom never lies.' 
' O tell me, Mentor ! tell me, faithful 
guide ' 
(The youth with prudent modesty replied), 
' How shall I meet, or how accost the sage, 
Unskill'd in speech, nor yet mature of 
age. 30 

Awful th' approach, and hard the task ap- 
pears, 
To question wisely men of riper years.' 
To whom the martial Goddess thus re- 
join'd: 
* Search, for some thoughts, thy own sug- 
gesting mind; 
And others, dictated by heav'nly Power, 
Shall rise spontaneous in the needful hour. 
For nought unprosperous shall thy ways 

attend, 
Born with good omens, and with Heav'n 
thy friend.' 
She spoke, and led the way with swiftest 
speed: 
As swift, the youth pursued the way she 
led; 40 

And join'd the band before the sacred fire, 
Where sate encompass'd with his sons, the 
sire. 



The youth of Pylos, some on pointed wood 
Transfix'd the fragments, some prepared 

the food: 
In friendly throngs they gather to embrace 
Their unknown guests, and at the banquet 

place, 
Pisistratus was first to grasp their hands. 
And spread soft hides upon the yellow 

sands; 
Along the shore th' illustrious pair he led. 
Where Nestor sate with youthful Thrasy- 

med. 50 

To each a portion of the feast he bore, 
And held the golden goblet foaming o'er; 
Then first approaching to the elder guest, 
The latent Goddess in these words ad- 

dress'd: 
* Whoe'er thou art, whom Fortune brings 

to keep 
These rites of Neptune, Monarch of the 

Deep, 
Thee first it fits, O Stranger ! to prepare 
The due libation and the solemn prayer: 
Then give thy friend to shed the sacred 

wine; 
Tho' much thy younger, and his years 

like mine, 60 

He too, I deem, implores the Powers 

divine : 

For all mankind alike require their grace, 
All born to want; a miserable race ! ' 

He spake, and to her hand preferr'd the 

bowl: 
A secret pleasure touch'd Athena's soul. 
To see the pref'rence due to sacred age 
Regarded ever by the just and sage. 
Of Ocean's King she then implores the 

grace : 
' O thou ! whose arms this ample globe 

embrace. 
Fulfil our wish, and let thy glory shine 70 
On Nestor first, and Nestor's royal line; 
Next grant the Pylian states their just 

desires, 
Pleas'd with their hecatomb's ascending 

fires; 
Last, deign Telemachus and me to bless. 
And crown our voyage with desired suc- 
cess.' 
Thus she: and, having paid the rite 

divine, 
Gave to Ulysses* son the rosy wine. 
Suppliant he pray'd. And now, the victims 

dress'd. 
They draw, divide, and celebrate the feast. 



THE ODYSSEY 



537 



The banquet done, the narrative old man, 80 
Thus mild, the pleasing conference began: 
' Now, gentle guests ! the genial banquet 
o'er, 
It fits to ask ye, what your native shore, 
And whence your race ? on what adventure, 

say. 
Thus far you wander thro' the wat'ry way ? 
Relate, if business, "or the thirst of gain, 
Engage your journey o'er the pathless 

main : 
Where savage pirates seek thro' seas un- 
known 
The lives of others, venturous of their 
own.' 
Urged by the precepts by the Goddess 
giv'n, _ _ 90 

And fiU'd with confidence infused from 

Heav'n, 
The youth, whom Pallas destin'd to be wise 
And famed among the sons of men, re- 
plies: 
* Inquirest thou, father ! from what coast we 

came ? 
(Oh grace and glory of the Grecian name!) 
From where high Ithaca o'erlooks the floods. 
Brown with o'er-arching shades and pen- 
dent woods. 
Us to these shores our filial duty draws, 
A private sorrow, not a public cause. 99 

My sire I seek, where'er the voice of Fame 
Has told the glories of his noble name, 
The great Ulysses; famed from shore to 

shore 
For valour much, for hardy suff'ring more. 
Long time with thee before proud Ilion's 

wall 
In arms he fought: with thee beheld her 

fall. 
Of all the Chiefs, this hero's fate alone 
Has Jove reserv'd, unheard of, and un- 
known; 
Whether in fields by hostile fury slain, 
Or sunk by tempests in the gnlfy main. 
Of this to learn, oppress'd with tender 
fears, no 

Lo, at thy knee his suppliant son appears. 
If or thy certain eye, or curious ear, 
Have learn'd his fate, the whole dark story 

clear: 
And, oh ! whate'er Heav'n destin'd to be- 
tide, 
Let neither flatt'ry smooth, nor pity hide. 
Prepared I stand: he was but born to try 
The lot of man; to suffer, and to die. 



Oh then, if ever thro' the ten years' war 
The wise, the good Ulysses claim'd thy 

care; 119 

If e'er he join'd thy council, or thy sword. 
True in his deed, and constant to his word; 
Far as thy mind thro' backward time can 

see. 
Search all thy stores of faithful memory: 
'Tis sacred truth I ask, and ask of thee.' 

To him experienc'd Nestor thus rejoin'd: 
' O friend ! what sorrows dost thou bring to 

mind ! 
Shall I the long, laborious scene review, 
And open all the wounds of Greece anew ? 
What toils by sea ! where dark in quest of 

prey ^ 129 

Dauntless we roved; Achilles led the way: 
What toils by land ! where, mix'd in fatal 

fight. 
Such numbers fell, such heroes sunk to 



night: 



There Ajax great, Achilles there the brave : 
There wise Patroclus, fill an earl 3'^ grave: 
There, too, my son — ah ! once my best 

delight. 
Once swift of foot, and terrible in fight; 
In whom stern courage with soft virtue 

join'd, 
A faultless body and a blameless mind: 
Antilochus — what more can I relate ? 
How trace the tedious series of our Fate? 140 
Not added years on years my task could 

close. 
The long historian of my country's woes: 
Back to thy native islands might'st thou 

sail. 
And leave half-heard the melancholy tale. 
Nine painful years on that detested shore, 
What stratagems we form'd, what toils we 

bore ! 
Still lab'ring on, till scarce at last we 

found 
Great Jove propitious, and our conquest 

crown'd. 
Far o'er the rest thy mighty father shin'd, 
In wit, in prudence, and in force of mind. 150 
Art thou the son of that illustrious sire ? 
With joy I grasp thee, and with love ad- 
mire. 
So like your voices, and your words so 

wise. 
Who finds thee younger must consult his 

eyes. 
Thy sire and I were one; nor varied aught 
In public sentence or in private thought; 



538 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Alike to council or th' assembly came, 
With equal souls, and sentiments the same. 
But when (by wisdom won) proud Ilion 

burn'd. 
And in their ships the conquering Greeks 

return'd, i6o 

'T was God's high will the victors to divide. 
And turn th' event, confounding human 

pride: 
Some he destroy'd, some scatter'd as the 

dust 
(Not all were prudent, and not all were 

just). 
Then Discord, sent by Pallas from above, 
Stern daughter of the great avenger Jove, 
The Brother-Kings inspired with fell de- 
bate; 
Who call'd to council all th' Achaian state. 
But call'd untimely (not the sacred rite 169 
Observ'd, nor heedful of the setting light, 
Nor herald sworn the session to proclaim) ; 
Sour with debauch, a reeling tribe they 

came. 
To these the cause of meeting they explain. 
And Menelaiis moves to cross the main; 
Not so the King of Men: he will'd to stay, 
The sacred rites and hecatombs to pay, 
And calm Minerva's wrath. Oh blind to 

Fate ! 
The Gods not lightly change their love, or 

hate. 
With ireful taunts each other they oppose. 
Till in loud tumult all the Greeks arose. 180 
Now diff'rent counsels ev'ry breast divide. 
Each burns with rancour to the adverse 

side: 
Th' unquiet night strange projects enter- 

tain'd 
(So Jove, that urged us to our fate, or- 

dain'd). 
We with the rising morn our ships un- 

moor'd, 
And brought our captives and our stores 

aboard ; 
But half the people with respect obey'd 
The King of Men, and at his bidding stay'd. 
Now on the wings of winds our course we 

keep 
(For God had smooth'd the waters of the 

deep) ; 190 

For Tenedos we spread our eager oars. 
There land, and pay due victims to the 

powers: 
To bless our safe return, we join in prayer; 
But angry Jove dispers'd our vows in air, 



And rais'd new discord. Then (so Heav'n 

decreed) 
Ulysses first and Nestor disagreed : 
Wise as he was, by various counsels 

sway'd. 
He there, tho' late, to please the Monarch, 

stay'd. 
But I, determin'd, stem the foamy floods, 
Warn'd of the coming fury of the Gods. 
With us Tydides fear'd, and urged his 

haste: 201 

And Menelaiis came, but came the last: 
He join'd our vessels in the Lesbian bay, 
While yet we doubted of our wat'ry way; 
If to the right to urge the pilot's toil 
(The safer road) beside the Psyrian isle; 
Or the straight course to rocky Chios 

plough. 
And anchor under Mimas' shaggy brow ? 
We sought direction of the Power divine: 
The God propitious gave the guiding 

sign; 210 

Thro' the mid seas he bid our navy steer 
And in Eubcea shun the woes we fear. 
The whistling winds already waked the 

sky; 
Before the whistling winds the vessels fly; 
With rapid swiftness cut the liquid way. 
And reach Gerestus at the point of day. 
There hecatombs of bulls, to Neptune 

slain. 
High - flaming please the Monarch of the 

Main. 
The fourth day shone, when, all their la- 
bours o'er, 
Tydides' vessels touch'd the wish'd - for 

shore. 220 

But I to Pylos scud before the gales, 
The God still breathing on my swelling 

sails; 
Sep'rate from all I safely landed here; 
Their fates or fortunes never reach'd my 

ear. 
Yet what I learn'd, attend; as here I sate, 1 
And ask'd each voyager each hero's fate ; > 
Curious to know, and willing to relate. J 
' Safe reach'd the Myrmidons their native 

land. 
Beneath Achilles' warlike son's command. 
Those, whom the heir of great Apollo's 

art, 230 

Brave Philoctetes, taught to wing the dart; 
And those whom Idomen from Ilion's plain 
Had led, securely cross'd the dreadful 

main. 



THE ODYSSEY 



539 



How Agamemnon touch'd his Argive coast, 
And how his life by fraud and force he 

lost, 
And how the murd'rer paid his forfeit 

breath; 
What lands so distant from that scene of 

death 
But trembling heard the fame ? and heard, 

admire 
How well the son appeas'd his slaughter'd 

sire ! 239 

Ev'n to th' unhappy, that unjustly bleed, 
Heav'n gives posterity t' avenge the deed. 
So fell uEgisthus : and mayst thou, my 

friend 
(On whom the virtues of thy sire de- 
scend), 
Make future times thy equal act adore. 
And be what brave Orestes was before ! ' 
The prudent youth replied: * O thou the 

grace 
And lasting glory of the Grecian race ! 
Just was the vengeance, and to latest 

days 
Shall long posterity resound the praise. 
Some God this arm with equal prowess 

bless ! 250 

And the proud suitors shall its force con- 
fess; 
Injurious men! who, while my soul is sore 
Of fresh affronts, are meditating more. 
But Heav'n denies this honour to my hand. 
Nor shall my father repossess the land: 
The father's fortune never to return, 
And the sad son's to suffer and to mourn! * 
Thus he; and Nestor took the word: ' My 

son. 
Is it then true, as distant rumours run. 
That crowds of rivals for thy mother's 

charms 260 

Thy palace fill with insults and alarms? 
Say, is the fault, thro' tame submission, " 

thine? 
Or, leagued against thee, do thy people 

join, 
Mov'd by some oracle, or voice divine ? 
And yet who knows but ripening lies in 

Fate 
An hour of vengeance for th' afflicted 

state; 
When great Ulysses shall suppress these 

harms, 
Ulysses singly, or all Greece in arms. 
But if Athena, War's triumphant Maid, 
The happy son will, as the father, aid 270 



(Whose fame and safety was her constant 
care 

In ev'ry danger and in ev'ry war : 

Never on man did heav'nly favour shine 

With rays so strong, distinguish'd, and di- 
vine, 

As those with which Minerva mark'd thy 
sire; 

So might she love thee, so thy soul in- 
spire !), 

Soon should their hopes in humble dust be 
laid, 

And long oblivion of the bridal bed.' 

' Ah ! no such hope ' (the Prince with 
sighs replies) 

* Can touch my breast; that blessing Heav'n 

denies. 280 

Ev'n by celestial favour were it giv'n. 
Fortune or Fate would cross the will of 

Heav'n.' 
* What words are these, and what impru- 
dence thine ? ' 
(Thus interposed the Martial Maid divine) 
' Forgetful youth ! but know, the Power 

above. 
With ease can save each object of his love; 
Wide as his will extends his boundless 

grace ; 
Nor lost in time, nor circumscribed by 

place. 
Happier his lot, who, many sorrows pass'd, 
Long lab'ring gains his natal shore at 

last, 290 

Than who, too speedy, hastes to end his 

life 
By some stern ruffian, or adult'rous wife. 
Death only is the lot which none can miss. 
And all is possible to Heav'n but this. 
The best, the dearest fav'rite of the sky 
Must taste that cup, for man is born to 

die.' 
Thus check'd, replied Ulysses' prudent 

heir: 

* Mentor, no more — the mournful thought 

forbear; 
For he no more must draw his country's 

breath. 
Already snatch'd by Fate, and the black 

doom of Death ! 300 

Pass we to other subjects; and engage 
On themes remote the venerable sage 
(Who thrice has seen the perishable kind "| 
Of men decay, and thro' three ages shin'd ! 
Like Gods majestic, and like Gods in | 
mind) ; J 



540 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



For much he knows, and just conclusions 

draws, 
From various precedents and various laws. 
O son of Neleus! awful Nestor, tell 
How he, the mighty Agamemnon, fell; 
By what strange fraud -^gisthus wrought, 

relate 310 

(By force he could not), such a hero's fate ? 
Liv'd Menelaiis not in Greece ? or where 
Was then the martial brother's pious care ? 
Condemn'd perhaps some foreign shore to 

tread ; 
Or sure ^gisthus had not dared the deed.' 
To whom the full of days : ' Illustrious 

youth, 
Attend (tho' partly thou hast guess'd) the 

truth. 
For had the martial Menelaiis found 
The ruffian breathing yet on Argive ground, 
Nor earth had hid his carcass from the 

skies, 320 

Nor Grecian virgin shriek'd his obsequies. 
But fowls obscene dismember'd his remains. 
And dogs had torn him on the naked 

plains. 
While us the works of bloody Mars em- 

ploy'd. 
The wanton youth inglorious peace enjoy'd; 
He, stretch'd at ease in Argos' calm recess 
(Whose stately steeds luxuriant pastures 

bless). 
With Flattery's insinuating art 
Sooth'd the frail Queen, and poison'd all 

her heart. 
At first, with worthy shame and decent 

pride, 330 

The royal dame his lawless suit denied. 
For virtue's image yet possess'd her mind. 
Taught by a master of the tuneful kind: 
Atrides, parting for the Trojan war, 
Consign'd the youthful consort to his care. 
True to his charge, the bard preserv'd her 

long 
In honour's limits; such the power of song. 
But when the Gods these objects of their 

hate 
Dragg'd to destruction by the links of 

Fate, 
The bard they banish'd from his native 

soil, ^ 340 

And left all helpless in a desert isle: 
There he, the sweetest of the sacred train. 
Sung dying to the rocks, but sung in vain. 
Then Virtue was no more ; her guard away, 
She fell, to lust a voluntary prey. 



Ev'n to the temple stalk'd th' adult'rous 

spouse, 
With impious thanks, and mockery of 

vows, 
With images, with garments, and with 

gold; 
And od'rous fumes from loaded altars 

roll'd. 
' Meantime from flaming Troy we cut the 

way, 350 

With Menelaiis, thro' the curling sea. 
But when to Sunium's sacred point we 

came, 
Crown'd with the temple of th' Athenian 

Dame; 
Atrides' pilot, Phrontes, there expired 
(Phrontes, of all the sous of men admired. 
To steer the bounding bark with steady 

toil, 
When the storm thickens, and the billows 

boil); 
While yet he exercised the steersman's art, 
Apollo touch'd him with his gentle dart; 
Ev'n with the rudder in his hand, he 

fell. 360 

To pay whose honours to the shades of 

Hell, 
We check'd our haste, by pious office 

bound. 
And laid our old companion in the ground. 
And now, the rites discharged, our course 

we keep 
Far on the gloomy bosom of the deep: 
Soon as Malsea's misty tops arise. 
Sudden tlie Thund'rer blackens all the 

skies, 
And the winds whistle, and the surges roll 
Mountains on mountains, and obscure the 

pole. 369 

The tempest scatters, and divides our fleet; 
Part, the storm urges on the coast of 

Crete, 
Where, winding round the rich Cydonian 

plain. 
The streams of Jardan issue to the main. 
There stands a rock, high eminent and 

steep. 
Whose shaggy brow o'erhangs the shady 

deep, 
And views Gortyna on the western side; 
On this rough Auster drove th' impetuous 

tide: 
With broken force the billows roll'd away, 
And heav'd the fleet into the neighb'ring 

bay. 



THE ODYSSEY 



541 



Thus saved from death, they gaiu'd the 

Phaestaii shores, 380 

With shatter'd vessels and disabled oars: 
But five tall barks the winds and waters 

toss'd. 
Far from their fellows, on th' Egyptian 

coast. 
There wander'd Menelaiis thro' foreign 

shores, 
Amassing gold, and gatli'ring naval stores ; 
While curs'd ^Egisthus the detested deed 
By fraud f ulfiU'd, and his great brother bled. 
Sev'n years, the traitor rich Mycenae 

sway'd. 
And his stern rule the groaning land 

obey'd; 
The eighth, from Athens to his realm re- 

stor'd, 390 

Orestes brandish'd the revenging sword. 
Slew the dire pair, and gave to funeral 

flame 
The vile assassin, and adult'rous dame. 
That day, ere yet the bloody triumphs 

cease, 
Return'd Atrides to the coast of Greece, 
And safe to Argos' port his navy brought. 
With gifts of price and pond'rous treasure 

fraught. 
Hence warn'd, my son, beware ! nor idly 

stand 
Too long a stranger to thy native land; 
Lest heedless absence wear thy wealth 

away, 400 

While lawless feasters in thy palace sway ; 
Perhaps may seize thy realm, and share 1 

the spoil; I 

And thou return, with disappointed toil, [ 
From thy vain journey, to a rifled isle. J 
Howe'er, my friend, indulge one labour 

more. 
And seek Atrides on the Spartan shore. 
He, wand'ring long, a wider circle made, 
And many-languaged nations has survey 'd; 
And measured tracks unknown to other 

ships 409 

Amid the monstrous wonders of the deeps 
(A length of ocean and unbounded sky. 
Which scarce tlie sea-fowl in a year o'er- 

fly): 

Go then; to Sparta take the wat'ry way, 

Thy ship and sailors but for orders stay; 

Or if by land thou choose thy course to 
bend. 

My steeds, ray chariots, and my sons at- 
tend: 



Thee to Atrides they shall safe convey. 

Guides of thy road, companions of thy way. 

Urge him with truth to frame his free re- 
plies, 419 

And sure he will: for Menelaiis is wise.' 
Thus while he speaks, the ruddy sun de- 
scends. 

And twilight gray her ev'ning shade ex- 
tends. 

Then thus the Blue-eyed Maid : ' O Full 
of Days ! 

Wise are thy words, and just are all thy 
ways. 

Now immolate the tongues, and mix the 
wine. 

Sacred to Neptune and the Powers divine. 

The lamp of day is quench'd beneath the 
deep. 

And soft approach the balmy hours of 
sleep: 

Nor fits it to prolong the heav'nly feast. 

Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest.' 430 
So spake Jove's daughter, the celestial 
Maid. 

The sober train attended and obey'd. 

The sacred heralds on their hands around 

Pour'd the full urns; the youths the gob- 
lets crown'd: 

From bowl to bowl the holy bev'rage flows; 

While to the final sacrifice they rose. 

The tongues they cast upon the fragrant 
flame. 

And pour, above, the consecrated stream. 

And now, their thirst by copious draughts 
allay 'd, 439 

The youthful hero and th' Athenian maid 

Propose departure from the finish'd rite, 

And in their hollow bark to pass the 
night. 

But this the hospitable sage denied: 

'Forbid it, Jove! and all the Gods !' he 
cried, 

' Thus from my walls the much-lov'd son to 
send 

Of such a Hero, and of such a Friend ! 

Me, as some needy peasant, would ye 
leave. 

Whom Heav'n denies the blessing to re- 
lieve ? 

Me would ye leave, who boast imperial 
sway. 

When beds of royal state invite your 



stay 



450 



No — long as life this mortal shall inspire, 
Or as my children imitate their sire, 



542 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Here shall the wand'ring stranger find his 

home, 
And hospitable rites adorn the dome.' 
* Well hast thou spoke ' (the Blue-eyed 

Maid replies), 
*Belov'd old man ! benevolent as wise. 
Be the kind dictates of thy heart obey'd, 
Ahd let thy words Telemachus persuade: 
He to thy palace shall thy steps pursue ; 'l 
I to the ship, to give the orders due, 460 I 
Prescribe directions, and confirm the [ 

crew. 
For I alone sustain their naval cares, 
Who boast experience from these silver 

hairs ; 
All youths the rest, whom to this journey 

move 
Like years, like tempers, and their Prince's 

love. 
There in the vessel shall I pass the night; 
And soon as morning paints the fields of 

light, 
I go to challenge from the Caucons bold 
A debt, contracted in the days of old. 
But this thy guest, receiv'd with friendly 

care, 470 

Let thy strong coursers swift to Sparta 

bear; 
Prepare thy chariot at the dawn of day, 
And be thy son companion of his way.' 
Then, turning with the word, Minerva 

flies. 
And soars an eagle thro' the liquid skies. 
Vision divine ! the throng'd spectators gaze 
In holy wonder fix'd, and still amaze. 
But chief the rev'reud sage admired; he 

took 
The hand of young Telemachus, and spoke: 
' Oh, happy Youth ! and favour'd of the 

skies, 480 

Distinguish'd care of guardian Deities ! 
Whose early years for future worth en- 
gage, 
No vulgar manhood, no ignoble age. 
For lo ! none other of the court above 
Than she, the daughter of Almighty Jove, 
Pallas herself, the war-triumphant Maid, 
Confess'd is thine, as once thy father's aid. 
So guide me. Goddess! so propitious shine 
On me, my consort, and my royal line! 489 
A yearling bullock to thy name shall smoke. 
Untamed, unconscious of the galling yoke, 
With ample forehead, and yet tender horns. 
Whose budding honours ductile gold 

adorns.' 



Submissive thus the hoary sire preferr'd 
His holy vow: the fav'ring Goddess heard. 
Then, slowly rising, o'er the sandy space 
Precedes the father, follow'd b}^ his race 
(A long procession), timely marching home 
In comely order to the regal dome. 
There when arrived, on thrones around him 

placed, 500 

His sons and grandsons the wide circle 

graced. 
To these the hospitable sage, in sign 
Of social welcome, mix'd the racy wine 
(Late from the mell'wing cask restor'd to 

light. 
By ten long years refin'd, and rosy bright). 
To Pallas high the foaming bowl he 

crown'd. 
And sprinkled large libations on the 

ground. 
Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares, 
And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs. 
Deep in a rich alcove the Prince was 

laid, 510 

And slept beneath the pompous colonnade: 
Fast by his side Pisistratus lay spread 
(In age his equal), on a splendid bed: 
But in an inner court, securely closed. 
The rev'rend Nestor and his Queen re- 
posed. 
When now Aurora, Daughter of the 

Dawn, 
With rosy lustre purpled o'er the lawn ; 
The old man early rose, walk'd forth, and 

sate 
On polish'd stone before his palace-gate: 
With unguents smooth the lucid marble 

shone, 520 

Where ancient Neleus sate, a rustic throne ; 
But he descending to th' infernal shade. 
Sage Nestor fill'd it, and the sceptre sway'd. 
His sons around him mild obeisance pay. 
And duteous take the orders of the day. 
First Echephron and Stratius quit their 

bed; 
Then Perseus, Aretus, and Thrasymed; 
The last Pisistratus arose from rest: 
They came, and near him place the stranger- 
guest. 
To these the senior thus declared his will: 530 
* My sons! the dictates of your sire fulfil. 
To Pallas, first of Gods, prepare the feast, 
Who graced our rites, a more than mortal 

guest. 
Let one, despatchful, bid some swain to lead 
A well-fed bullock from the grassy mead; 



THE ODYSSEY 



543 



One seek the harbour where the vessels 

moor, 
And bring thy friends, Telemachus! ashore 
(Leave only two the galley to attend); 
Another to Leareeus must we send, 
Artist divine, whose skilful hands infold 540 
The victim's horn with circumfusile gold. 
The rest may here the pious duty share. 
And bid the handmaids for the feast pre- 
pare, 
The seats to range, the fragrant wood to 

bring. 
And limpid waters from the living spring.' 
He said, and busy each his care bestow'd; 
Already at the gates the bullock low'd, 
Already came the Ithacensian crew, 
The dext'rous smith the tools already drew: 
His pond'rous hammer, and his anvil 

sound, 550 

And the strong tongs to turn the metal 

round. 
Nor was Minerva absent from the rite; 
She view'd her honours, and enjoy'd the 

sight. 
With rev'rent hand the King presents the " 

gold, 
Which round th' intorted horns the gilder 

roll'd. 
So wrought, as Pallas might with pride 

behold. 
Young Aretus from forth his bridal bower 
Brought the full laver, o'er their hands 

to pour. 
And canisters of consecrated flour. 
Stratius and Echephron the victim led; 560 
The axe was held by warlike Thrasymed, 
In act to strike: before him Perseus stood. 
The vase extending to receive the blood. 
The King himself initiates to the Power; 
Scatters with quiv'ring hand the sacred 

flour, 
And the stream sprinkles: from the curling 

brows 
The hair collected in the fire he throws. 
Soon as due vows on every part were paid. 
And sacred wheat upon the victim laid. 
Strong Thrasymed discharged the speeding 

blow 570 

Full on his neck, and cut the nerves in two. 
Down sunk the heavy beast: the females 

round. 
Maids, wives, and matrons, mix a shrilling 

sound, 
Nor scorn'd the Queen the holy choir to join. 
(The first-born she, of old Clymenus' line; 



In youth by Nestor lov'd, of spotless fame, 
And lov'd in age, Eurydice her name.) 
From earth they rear him, struggling now 

with death; 
And Nestor's youngest stops the vents of 

breath. 
The soul for ever flies: on all sides round 580 
Streams the black blood, and smokes upon 

the ground. 
The beast they then divide, and disunite 
The ribs and limbs, observant of the vite: 
On these, in double cauls involv'd with 

art. 
The choicest morsels lay from ev'ry part. 
The sacred sage before his altar stands. 
Turns the burnt-off'ring with his holy 

hands. 
And pours the wine, and bids the flames 

aspire: 
The youth with instruments surround the 

fire. 
The thighs now sacrificed, and entrails 

dress'd, 590 

Th' assistants part, transfix, and broil the 

rest. 
While these officious tend the rites divine, 
The last fair branch of the Nestorean line. 
Sweet Polycaste, took the pleasing toil 
To bathe the Prince, and pour the fragrant 

oil. 
O'er his fair limbs a flowery vest he 

threw. 
And issued, like a God, to mortal view. 
His former seat beside the Kins: he found 
(His people's father with his peers around); 
All placed at ease the hol}^ banquet join, 600 
And in the dazzling goblet laiighs the wine. 
The rage of thirst and hunger now sup- 

press'd. 
The Monarch turns him to his royal guest; 
And for the promis'd journey bids prepare 
The smooth-hair'd horses, and the rapid 

car. 
Observant of his word, the word scarce 

spoke. 
The sons obey, and join them to the yoke. 
Then bread and wine a ready handmaid 

brings. 
And presents, such as suit the state of 

kings ; 
The glitt'ring seat Telemachus ascends; 610 
His faithful guide Pisistratus attends; 
With hasty hand the ruling reins he drew: 
He lash'd the coursers, and the coursers 

flew. 



544 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Beneath the bounding yoke alike they held 
Their equal pace, and smoked along the 

field. 
The towers of Pylos sink, its views decay, "" 
Fields after fields fly back, till close of 

day: 
Then sunk the sun, and darken'd all the 
way. 

To Pherae now, Diocleus' stately seat 
(Of Alpheus' race), the weary youths re- 
treat. 620 
His house affords the hospitable rite, 
And pleas'd they sleep, the blessing of the 

night. 
But when Aurora, Daughter of the Dawn, 
With rosy lustre purpled o'er the lawn. 
Again they mount, their journey to renew. 
And from the sounding portico they flew. 
Along the waving fields their way they hold, 
The fields receding as their chariot roll'd: 
Then slowly sunk the ruddy globe of light, 
And o'er the shaded landscape rush'd the 
night. 630 

BOOK V 



THE DEPARTURE OF ULYSSES FROM CALYPSO 
THE ARGUMENT 

Pallas in a council of the Gods complains of the 
detention of Ulysses in the island of Calypso ; 
whereupon Mercury is sent to command his 
removal. The seat of Calypso described. 
She consents with much difficulty ; and 
Ulysses builds a vessel with his own hands, 
on which he embarks. Neptune overtakes 
him with a terrible tempest, in which he is 
shipwrecked, and in the last dang-er of death ; 
till Leucothea. a sea-goddess, assists him, and, 
after innumerable perils, he gets ashore on 
Phaeacia. 



The saffron Morn, with early blushes 

spread, 
Now rose refulgent from Tithonns' bed; 
With new-born Day to gladden mortal 

sight, 
And gild the courts of Heav'n with sacred 

light. 
Then met th' eternal Synod of the Sky, "^ 
Before the God, who thunders from on I 

Supreme in might, sublime in majesty. 
Pallas, to these, deplores th' unequal Fates 
Of wise Ulysses, and his toils relates: 
Her hero's danger touch'd the pitying 
Power, 10 



The nymph's seducements, and the magic 
bower. 

Thus she began her plaint. * Immortal 
Jove ! 

And you who fill the blissful seats above ! 

Let Kings no more with gentle mercy 
sway. 

Or bless a people willing to obey, 

But crush the nations with an iron rod, 

And ev'ry Monarch be the scourge of God ; 

If from your thoughts Ulysses you remove. 

Who ruled his subjects with a father's love. 

Sole in an isle, encircled by the main, 20 

Abandon'd, banish'd from his native reign, 

Unbless'd he sighs, detain'd by lawless 
charms, 

And press'd unwilling in Calypso's arms. 

Nor friends are there, nor vessels to con- 
vey. 

Nor oars to cut th' immeasurable way. 

And now fierce traitors, studious to de- 
stroy 

His only son, their ambush'd fraud em- 
ploy; 

Who, pious, foU'wing his great father's 
fame. 

To sacred Pylos and to Sparta came.' 
* What words are these ? ' (replied the 
Power who forms 30 

The clouds of night, and darkens Heav'n 
with storms) ; 

* Is not already in thy soul decreed. 

The Chief's return shall make the guilty 
bleed ? 

What cannot Wisdom do ? Thou may'st 
restore 

The son in safety to his native shore; 

While the fell foes, who late in ambush lay, 

With fraud defeated measure back their 
way.' 
Then thus to Hermes the command was 
giv'n. 

' Hermes, thou chosen messenger of Heav'n! 

Go, to the Nymph be these our orders 
borne : 40 

'T is Jove's decree, Ulysses shall return: 

The patient man shall view his old abodes, 

Nor help'd by mortal hand, nor guiding 
Gods: 

In twice ten days shall fertile Scheria find. 

Alone, and floating to the wave and wind. 

The bold Phseacians there, whose haughty 
line 

Is mix'd with Gods, half human, half di- 
vine. 



THE ODYSSEY 



545 



The Chief shall honour as some heav'uly 

guest, 
And swift transport him to his place of 

rest. 49 

His vessels loaded with a plenteous store 
Of brass, of vestures, and resplendent ore 
(A richer prize than if his joyful isle 
Receiv'd him charged with Ilion's noble 

spoil), 
His friends, his country, he shall see, tho' 

late; 
Such is our sov'reign will, and such is 

Fate.' 
He spoke. The God who mounts the 

winged winds 
Fast to his feet the golden pinions binds. 
That high thro' fields of air his flight sus- 
tain 
O'er the wide earth, and o'er the boundless 

main. 
He grasps the wand that causes sleep to 

fly, 60 

Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye: 
Then shoots from Heav'n to high Pieria's 

steep, 
And stoops incumbent on the rolling deep. 
So wat'ry fowl, that seek their fishy food. 
With wings expanded o'er the foaming 

flood. 
Now sailing smooth the level surface sweep. 
Now dip their pinions in the briny deep. 
Thus o'er the world of waters Hermes 

flew. 
Till now the distant island rose in view: 
Then, swift ascending from the azure 

wave, 70 

He took the path that winded to the cave. 
Large was the grot, in which the Nymph he 

found 
(The fair-hair'd Nymph with ev'ry beauty 

crown'd); 
She sate and sung; the rocks resound her 

lays; 
The cave was brighten'd with a rising 

blaze; 
Cedar and frankincense, an od'rous pile. 
Flamed on the hearth and wide perfumed 

the isle; 
While she with work and song the time 

divides, 
And thro' the loom the golden shuttle 

guides. 
Without the grot a various sylvan scene 80 
Appear'd around, and groves of living 

green; 



Poplars and alders ever quiv'ring play'd, 

And nodding cypress form'd a fragrant 
shade; 

On whose high branches, waving with the 
storm. 

The birds of broadest wing their mansions 
form. 

The chough, the sea-mew, the loquacious 
crow, 

And scream aloft, and skim the deeps be- 
low. 

Depending vines the shelving cavern 
screen, 

With purple clusters blushing thro' the 
green. 

Four limpid fountains from the clefts ] 
distil; 90 I 

And ev'ry fountain pours a sev'ral rill, [ 

In mazy windings wand'ring down the hill ; J 

Where bloomy meads with vivid greens 
were crown'd, 

And glowing violets threw odours round. 

A scene, where if a God should cast his 
sight, 

A God might gaze, and wander with de- 
light ! 

Joy touch'd the Messenger of Heav'n: he 
stay'd 

Entranc'd, and all the blissful haunts sur- 
vey'd. 

Him, ent'ring in the cave. Calypso knew; 

For Powers celestial to each other's 
view 100 

Stand still confess'd, tho' distant far they 
lie 

To habitants of earth, or sea, or sky. 

But sad Ulysses, by himself apart, 

Pour'd the big sorrows of his swelling 
heart ; 

All on the lonely shore he sate to weep. 

And roU'd his eyes around the restless 
deep; 

Toward his lov'd coast he roU'd his eyes m 
vain, 

Till, dimm'd with rising grief, they 
stream 'd again. 
Now graceful seated on her shining 
throne. 

To Hermes thus the Nymph divine be- 
gun: no 
* God of the Golden Wand ! on what be- 
hest 

Arrivest thou here, an unexpected guest ? 

Lov'd as thou art, thy free injunctions lay: 

'T is mine with joy and duty to obey. 



546 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Till now a stranger, in a happy hour 
Approach, and taste the dainties of my 

bower,' 
Thus having spoke, the Nymph the table 

spread 
(Ambrosial cates, with nectar rosy-red) ; 
Hermes the hospitable rite partook, 119 
Divine refection ! then, recruited, spoke: 
' What mov'd this journey from my 

native sky, 
A Goddess asks, nor can a God deny: 
Hear then the truth. By mighty Jove's 

command 
Unwilling have I trod this pleasing land; 
For who, self-mov'd, with weary wing 

would sweep 
Such length of ocean and unmeasured deep: 
A world of waters ! far from all the ways 
Where men frequent, or sacred altars 

blaze ? 
But to Jove's will submission we must 

pay; 129 

What Power so great to dare to disobey ? 
A man, he says, a man resides with thee, 
Of all his kind most worn with misery; 
The Greeks (whose arms for nine long 

years employ'd 
Their force on Ilion, in the tenth de- 

stroy'd), 
At length embarking in a luckless hour, 
With conquest proud, incens'd Minerva's 

power: 
Hence on the guilty race her vengeance 

hurl'd 
With storms pursued them thro' the liquid 

world. 
There all his vessels sunk beneath the wave! 
There all his dear companions found their 

grave ! 140 

Saved from the jaws of death by Heav'n's 

decree. 
The tempest drove him to these shores and 

thee. 
Him, Jove now orders to his native lands 
Straight to dismiss: so destiny commands: 
Impatient Fate his near return attends, 
And calls him to his country, and his 

friends.' 
Ev'n to her inmost soul the Goddess 

shook ; 
Then thus her anguish and her passion 

broke : 
* Ungracious Gods ! with spite and envy 

curs'd ! 149 

Still to your own ethereal race the worst ! 



Ye envy mortal and immortal joy. 

And love, the only sweet of life, destroy. 

Did ever Goddess by her charms engage 

A favour'd mortal, and not feel your rage ? 

So when Aurora sought Orion's love, 

Her joys disturb'd your blissful hours 

above, 
Till, in Ortygia, Dian's winged dart 
Had pierc'd the hapless hunter to the 

heart. 
So when the covert of the thrice-ear'd field 
Saw stately Ceres to her passion yield, 160 
Scarce could lasion taste her heav'nly 

charms, 
But Jove's swift lightning scorch'd him in 
her arms. 
' And is it now my turn, ye mighty 
Powers ! 
Am I the envy of your blissful bowers ? 
A man, an outcast to the storm and wave. 
It was my crime to pity and to save; 
When he who thunders rent his bark in 

twain. 
And sunk his brave companions in the 

main. 
Alone, abandon'd, in mid-ocean toss'd. 
The sport of winds, and driv'n from ev'ry 
coast, 170 

Hither this man of miseries I led, 
Receiv'd the friendless, and the hungry 

fed; 
Nay, promis'd (vainly promis'd!) to be- 
stow 
Immortal life, exempt from age and woe. 
'T is past — and Jove decrees he shall re- 
move: 
Gods as we are, we are but slaves to Jove. 
Go then he may (he must, if he ordain, 
Try all those dangers, all those deeps, 

again) ; 
But never, never shall Calypso send 
To toils like these her husband and her 
friend. 180 

What ships have I, what sailors to convey, 
What oars to cut the long laborious way ? 
Yet I '11 direct the safest means to go; 
That last advice is all I can bestow.' 

To her the Power who bears the Charm- 
ing Bod: 
* Dismiss the man, nor irritate the God; 
Prevent the rage of him who reigns above. 
For what so dreadful as the wrath of 

Jove ? ' 
Thus having said, he cut the cleaving sky. 
And in a moment vanish'd from her eye. 190 



THE ODYSSEY 



547 



The Nymph, obedient to divine command, 
To seek Ulysses paced along the sand, 
Him pensive on the lonely beach she fonnd. 
With streaming eyes in briny torrents 

drown'd. 
And inly pining for his native shore; 
For now the soft enchantress pleas'd no 

more: 
For now, reluctant, and constrain'd by 

charms. 
Absent he lay in her desiring arms: 
In slumber wore the heavy night away. 
On rocks and shores consumed the tedious 

day ; 200 

There sate all desolate, and sigh'd alone. 
With echoing sorrows made the mountains 

groan. 
And roU'd his eyes o'er all the restless 

main, 
Till, dimm'd with rising grief, they stream'd 

again. 
Here, on his musing mood the Goddess 

press'd 
Approaching soft; and thus the Chief ad- 

dress'd: 
* Unhappy man ! to wasting woes a prey. 
No more in sorrows languish life away: 
Free as the winds I give thee now to rove — 
Go, fell the timber of yon lofty grove, 210 
And form a raft, and build the rising ship. 
Sublime to bear thee o'er the gloomy deep. 
To store the vessel let the care be mine. 
With water from the rock, and rosy wine, 
And life-sustaining bread, and fair array, 
And prosp'rous gales to waft thee on the 

way. 
These, if the Gods with my desire comply 
(The Gods, alas, more mighty far than I, 
And better skill'd in dark events to come). 
In peace shall land thee at thy native 

home.* 220 

With sighs Ulysses heard the words she 

spoke. 
Then thus his melancholy silence broke: 
* Some other motive. Goddess ! sways thy 

mind 
(Some close design, or turn of womankind). 
Nor my return the end, nor this the way, 
On a slight raft to pass the swelling sea. 
Huge, horrid, vast ! where scarce in safety 

sails 
The best-built ship, tho' Jove inspire the 

gales. 
The bold proposal how shall I fulfil. 
Dark as I am, unconscious of thy will ? 230 



Swear, then, thou mean'st not what my 
soul forebodes; 

Swear by the solemn oath that binds the 
Gods.' 
Him, while he spoke, with smiles Calypso 
eyed. 

And gently grasp'd his hand, and thus re- 
plied: 

* This shows thee, friend, by old experi- 

ence taught, 
And learn'd in all the wiles of human 

thought, 
How prone to doubt, how cautious are the 

wise ! 
But hear, O earth, and hear, ye sacred 

skies ! 
And thou, O Styx ! whose formidable 

floods 
Glide thro' the shades, and bind th' attest- 
ing Gods ! 240 
No form'd design, no meditated end. 
Lurks in the council of thy faithful friend; 
Kind the persuasion, and sincere my aim; 
The same my practice, were my fate the 

same. 
Heav'n has not curs'd me with a heart of 

steel. 
But given the sense to pity and to feel.' 
Thus having said, the Goddess march'd 

before : 
He trod her footsteps in the sandy shore. 
At the cool cave arrived, they took their 

state ; 
He fill'd the throne where Mercury had 

sate. 250 

For him the Nymph a rich repast ordains, 
Such as the mortal life of man sustains; 
Before herself were placed the cates divine, 
Ambrosial banquet, and celestial wine. 
Their hunger satiate, and their thirst re- 

press'd, 
Thus spoke Calypso to her godlike guest: 

* Ulysses ! ' (with a sigh she thus began) 

* O sprung from Gods ! in wisdom more 

than man ! 
Is then thy home the passion of thy heart ? 
Thus wilt thou leave me, are we thus to 

part? 260 

Farewell ! and ever joyful may'st thou be. 
Nor break the transport with one thought 

of me. 
But, ah, Ulysses ! wert thou giv'n to know 
What Fate yet dooms thee, yet, to undergo; 
Thy heart might settle in this scene of 

ease, 



548 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



And ev'n these slighted charms might learn 
to please. 

A willing Goddess, and immortal life, 

Might banish from thy mind an absent wife. 

Am I inferior to a mortal dame ? 

Less soft my feature, lest august my 
frame ? 270 

Or shall the daughters of mankind compare 

Their earth-born beauties with the heav'nly 
fair ? ' 
'Alas ! for this ' (the prudent man replies) 

* Against Ulysses shall thy anger rise ? 

Lov'd and ador'd, O Goddess, as thou art, 

Forgive the weakness of a human heart. 

Tho' well I see thy graces far above 

The dear, tho' mortal, object of my love, 

Of youth eternal well the diff'rence know, 

And the short date of fading charms be- 
low; 280 

Yet ev'ry day, while absent thus I roam, 

I languish to return and die at home. 

Whate'er the Gods shall destine me to bear 

In the black ocean, or the wat'ry war, 

'T is mine to master with a constant mind; 

Inured to perils, to the worst resign'd. 

By seas, by wars, so many dangers run; 

Still I can suffer: their high will be done ! ' 
Thus while he spoke, the beamy sun de- 
scends, 

And rising night her friendly shade ex- 
tends. 290 

To the close grot the lonely pair remove, 

And slept delighted with the gifts of love. 

When rosy morning call'd them from their 
rest, 

Ulysses robed him in the cloak and vest. 

The Nymph's fair head a veil transparent 
graced, 

Her swelling loins a radiant zone embraced 

With flowers of gold: an under robe, un- 
bound. 

In snowy waves flow'd glitt'ring on the 
ground. 

Forth issuing thus, she gave him first to 
wield 

A weighty axe, with truest temper steel'd. 

And double-edg'd; the handle smooth and 
plain, 301 

Wrought of the clouded olive's easy grain; 

And next, a wedge to drive with sweepy 
sway: 

Then to the neighb'ring forest led the way. 

On the lone island's utmost verge there 
stood 

Of poplars, pines, and firs, a lofty wood, 



Whose leafless summits to the skies aspire, 
Scorch'd by the sun, or sear'd by heav'nly 

fire 
(Already dried). These pointing out to 

view. 
The Nymph just show'd him, and with 

tears withdrew. 310 

Now toils the hero: trees on trees o'er- 

thrown 
Fall crackling round him, and the forests 

groan : 
Sudden, full twenty on the plain are 

strow'd. 
And lopp'd and lighten'd of their branchy 

load. 
At equal angles these disposed to join, 
He smoothed and squared them by the rule 

and line 
(The wimbles for the work Calypso found). 
With those he pierc'd them, and with 

clinchers bound. 
Long and capacious as a shipwright forms 
Some bark's broad bottom to out-ride the 

storms, 320 

So large he built the raft; then ribb'd it 

strong 
From space to space, and nail'd the planks 

along; 
These form'd the sides: the deck he fash- 

ion'd last; 
Then o'er the vessel rais'd the taper mast, 
With crossing sail -yards dancing in the 

wind ; 
And to the helm the guiding rudder join'd 
(With yielding osiers fenc'd, to break the 

force 
Of surging waves, and steer the steady 

course). 
Thy loom. Calypso! for the future sails 329 
Supplied the cloth, capacious of the gales. 
With stays and cordage last he rigg'd the 

ship, 
And, roird on levers, launch'd her in the 

deep. 
Four days were past, and now, the work 

complete. 
Shone the fifth morn, when from her sacred 

seat 
The Nymph dismiss'd him (od'rous gar- 
ments giv'n. 
And bathed in fragrant oils that breathed 

of Heav'n): 
Then fill'd two goat-skins with her hands 

divine, 
With water one, and one with sable wine : 



THE ODYSSEY 



549 



Of ev'ry kind provisions heav'd aboard; 
And the full decks with copious viands 

stor'd. 340 

The Goddess, last, a gentle breeze supplies, 
To curl old Ocean, and to warm the skies. 
And now, rejoicing in the prosp'rous 

gales. 
With beating heart Ulysses spreads his 

sails: 
Placed at the helm he sate, and mark'd the 

skies. 
Nor closed in sleep his ever-watchful eyes. 
There view'd the Pleiads, and the Northern 

Team, 
And great Orion's more refulgent beam, 
To which, around the axle of the sky, 349 
The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye: 
Who shines exalted on th' ethereal plain. 
Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the 

main. 
Far on the left those radiant fires to keep 
The Nymph directed, as he sail'd the deep. 
Full sev'nteen nights he cut the foamy 

way; 
The distant land appear'd the foU'wing day: 
Thenswell'd to sight Phseacia's dusky coast. 
And woody mountains, half in vapours lost; 
That lay before him indistinct and vast, 359 
Like a broad shield amid the wat'ry waste. 
But him, thus voyaging the deeps below, 
From far, on Solyme's aerial brow. 
The King of Ocean saw, and seeing burn'd 
(From -Ethiopia's happy climes return'd); 
The raging Monarch shook his azure head, 
And thus in secret to his soul he said: 
* Heav'ns ! how uncertain are the Powers 

on high ! 
Is then revers'd the sentence of the sky, 
In one man's favour: while a distant guest 
I shared secure the -^Ethiopian feast ? 370 
Behold how near Phseacia's land he draws ! 
The land affix'd by Fate's eternal laws 
To end his toils. Is then our anger vain ? 
No; if this sceptre yet commands the main.' 
He spoke, and high the forky trident 

hurl'd. 
Rolls clouds on clouds, and stirs the wat'ry 

world. 
At once the face of earth and sea deforms, 
Swells all the winds, and rouses all the 

storms. 
Down rush'd the night: east, west, together 

roar; 
And south and north roll mountains to the 

shore : 380 



Then shook the hero, to despair resign'd. 
And question'd thus his yet unconquer'd 

mind : 
' Wretch that I am ! what farther Fates 

attend 
This life of toils, and what my destin'd 

end? 
Too well, alas ! the island Goddess knew 
On the black sea what perils should ensue. 
New horrors now this destin'd head en- 
close; 
Unfill'd as yet the measure of my woes: 
With what a cloud the brows of Heav'n are 

crown'd ! 
What raging winds ! what roaring waters 

round ! 390 

'T is Jove himself the swelling tempest 

rears; 
Death, present death, on ev'ry side ap- 
pears. 
Happy ! thrice happy ! who, in battle slain, 
Press'd, in Atrides' cause, the Trojan plain! 
Oh ! had I died before that well-fought 

wall ; 
Had some distinguish'd day renown'd my 

fall 
(Such as was that when showers of jav'lins 

fled 
From conquering Troy around Achilles 

dead) ; 
All Greece had paid me solemn funerals 

then, 399 

And spread my glory with the sons of men. 
A shameful fate now hides my hapless 

head. 
Unwept, unnoted, and for ever dead ! ' 
A mighty wave rush'd o'er him as he 

spoke, 
The raft it cover'd, and the mast it broke: 
Swept from the deck, and from the rudder 

torn, 
Far on the swelling surge the Chief was 

borne ; 
While by the howling tempest rent in 

twain 
Flew sail and sail-yards rattling o'er the 

main. 
Long-press'd, he heav'd beneath the weighty 

wave, 
Clogg'd by the cumb'rous vest Calypso 

gave: 410 

At length emerging, from his nostrils wide 
And gushing mouth effused the briny tide; 
Ev'n then, not mindless of his last retreat. 
He seiz'd the raft, and leap'd into his seat, 



550 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Strong with the fear of death. The rolling 

flood 
Now here, now there, impell'd the floating 

wood. 
As when a heap of gather'd thorns is cast 
Now to, now fro, before th' autumnal blast; 
Together clung, it rolls around the field; 
So roll'd the float, and so its texture held: 
And now the south, and now the north, ' 

bear sway, 421 

And now the east the foamy floods obey, 
And now the west wind whirls it o'er the 

sea. 
The wand'ring Chief, with toils on toils 

oppress'd, 
Leucothea saw, and pity touch'd her breast 
(Herself a mortal once, of Cadmus' strain. 
But now an azure sister of the main). 
Swift as a sea-mew springing from the 

flood, 
All radiant on the raft the Goddess stood : 
Then thus address'd him: *Thou whom 

Heav'n decrees 430 

To Neptune's wrath, stern Tyrant of the 

Seas 
(Unequal contest) ! not his rage and power. 
Great as he is, such virtue shall devour. 
What I suggest, thy wisdom will perform : 
Forsake thy float, and leave it to the storm : 
Strip off thy garments; Neptune's fury 

brave 
With naked strength, and plunge into the 

wave. 
To reach Phseacia all thy nerves extend. 
There Fate decrees thy miseries shall end. 
This heav'nly scarf beneath thy bosom 

bind, 440 

And live; give all thy terrors to the wind. 
Soon as thy arms the happy shore shall 

gain. 
Return the gift, and cast it in the main; 
Observe my orders, and with heed obey. 
Cast it far off, and turn thy eyes away.' 
With that, her hand the sacred veil be- 
stows, 
Then down the deeps she dived from whence 

she rose; 
A moment snatch'd the shining form away, 
And all was cover'd with the curling sea. 
Struck with amaze, yet still to doubt in- 

inclin'd, 450 

He stands suspended, and explores his mind. 
' What shall I do ? unhappy me I who 

knows 
But other Gods intend me other woes ? 



Whoe'er thou art, I shall not blindly join 
Thy pleaded reason, but consult with mine: 
For scarce in ken appears that distant isle 
Thy voice foretells me shall conclude my 

toil. 
Thus then I judge: while yet the planks 

sustain 
The wild waves' fury, here I fix'd remain: 
But when their texture to the tempest 
yields, 460 

I launch adventurous on the liquid fields. 
Join to the help of Gods the strength of 

man. 
And take this method, since the best I 
can.' 
While thus his thoughts an anxious coun- 
cil hold. 
The raging God a wat'ry mountain roll'd; 
Like a black sheet the whelming billows 

spread. 
Burst o'er the float, and thunder'd on his 

head. 
Planks, beams, disparted fly; the scatter'd 

wood 
Rolls diverse, and in fragments strews the 

flood. 
So the rude Boreas, o'er the field new- 
shorn, 470 
Tosses and drives the scatter'd heaps of 

corn. 
And now a single beam the chief bestrides: 
There, pois'd awhile above the bounding 

tides, 
His limbs discumbers of the clinging vest, 
And binds the sacred cincture round his 

breast; 
Then, prone on ocean in a moment flung, 
Stretch'd wide his eager arms, and shot the 

seas along. 
All naked now, on heaving billows laid, 
Stern Neptune eyed him, and contemptu- 
ous said: 
' Go, learn'd in woes, and other foes 



essay 



480 



Go, wander helpless on the wat'ry way: 
Thus, thus find out the destin'd shore, and 

then 
(If Jove ordains it) mix with happier 

men: 
Whate'er thy fate, the ills our wrath could 

raise 
Shall last remember'd in thy best of days.* 
This said, his sea-green steeds divide the 

foam. 
And reach high JEgae and the tow'ry dome. 



THE ODYSSEY 



551 



Now, scarce witlidrawn the fierce earth- 
shaking Power, 
Jove's daughter Palhis watch'd the fav'ring 

hour; 
Back to their caves she bade the winds to 

fly, _ 490 

And hush'd the bhist'ring Brethren of the 

Sky. 
The drier blasts alone of Boreas sway, 
And bear him soft on broken waves away; 
With gentle force impelling to that shore, 
Where Fate has destin'd he shall toil no 

more. 
And now two nights and now two days were 

past. 
Since wide he wander'd on the wat'ry 

waste; 
Heav'd on the surge with intermitting 

breath, 
And hourly panting in the arms of Death. 
The third fair morn now blazed upon the 

main ; 500 

Then glassy smooth lay all the liquid plain; 
The winds were hush'd, the billows scarcely 

curl'd. 
And a dead silence still'd the wat'ry world, 
When, lifted on a ridgy wave, he spies 
The land at distance, and with sharpen'd 

eyes. 
As pious children joy with vast delight 
When a lov'd sire revives before their 

sight 
(Who, lingering long, has call'd on death in 

vain, 508 

Fix'd by some daemon to his bed of pain. 
Till Heav'n by miracle his life restore); 
So joys Ulysses at th' appearing shore; 
And sees (and labours onward as he sees) 
The rising forests, and the tufted trees. 
And now, as near approaching as the sound 
Of human voice the list'ning ear may 

wound, 
Amidst the rocks he hears a hollow roar 
Of murm'ring surges breaking on the 

shore : 
Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding 

To shield the vessel from the rolling sea, 
But cliffs, and shaggy shores, a dreadful 

sight! 520 

All rough with rocks, with foamy billows 

white. 
Fear seiz'd his slacken'd limbs and beating 

heart, 
And thus he communed with his soul apart: 



* Ah me! when o'er a length of waters 

toss'd, 
These eyes at last behold th' unhoped-for 

coast. 
No port receives me from the angry main, 
But the loud deeps demand me back 

again. 
Above sharp rocks forbid access; around 
Koar the wild waves; beneath is sea pro- 
found ! 529 
No footing sure affords the faithless sand, 
To stem too rapid, and too deep to stand. 
If here I enter, my efforts are vain, 
Dash'd on the cliffs or heav'd into the 

main : 
Or round the island if my course I bend, 
Where the ports open, or the shores de- 
scend. 
Back to the seas the rolling surge may 

sweep. 
And bury all my hopes beneath the deep. 
Or some enormous whale the God may 

send 
(For many such on Amphitrite attend); 
Too well the turns of mortal chance I 

know, 540 

And hate relentless of my heav'nly foe.' 
While thus he thought, a monstrous wave 

upbore 
The Chief, and dash'd him on the craggy 

shore ; 
Torn was his skin, nor had the ribs been 

whole. 
But instant Pallas enter'd in his soul. 
Close to the cliff with both his hands he 

clung. 
And stuck adherent, and suspended hung; 
Till the huge surge roll'd off: then, back- 
ward sweep 
The refluent tides, and plunge him in the 

deep. 549 

As when the polypus, from forth his cave 
Torn with full force, reluctant beats the 

wave; 
His ragged claws are stuck with stones and 

sands; 
So the rough rock had shagg'd Ulysses' 

hands. 
And now had perish'd, whelm'd beneath 

the main, 
Th' unhappy man; ev'n Fate had been in 

vain; 
But all-subduing Pallas lent her power, 
And prudence saved him in the needful 

hour. 



552 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Beyond the beating surge his course he 

bore 
(A wider circle, but in sight of shore), 
With longing eyes, observing, to survey 560 
Some smooth ascent, or safe sequesfeer'd 

bay. 
Between the parting rocks at length he 

spied 
A falling stream with gentler waters glide; 
Where to the seas the shelving shore de- 

clin'd, 
And form'd a bay impervious to the wind. 
To this calm port the glad Ulysses press'd, 
And hail'd the river, and its God address'd: 
' Whoe'er thou art, before whose stream 

unknown 
1 bend, a suppliant at thy wat'ry throne. 
Hear, azure King ! nor let me fly in 

vain 570 

To thee from Neptune and the raging 

main. 
Heav'n hears and pities hapless men like 

me. 
For sacred ev'n to Gods is misery: 
Let then thy waters give the weary rest, 
And save a suppliant, and a man dis- 

tress'd.' 
He pray'd, and straight the gentle stream 

subsides, 
Detains the rushing current of his tides. 
Before the wand'rer smooths the wat'ry 

way. 
And soft receives him from the rolling sea. 
That moment, fainting as he touch'd the 

shore, 580 

He dropp'd his sinewy arms; his knees no 

more 
Perform'd their office, or his weight up- 
held; 
His swoln heart heav'd; his bloated body 

swell'd; 
From mouth and nose the briny torrent 

ran; 
And lost in lassitude lay all the man. 
Deprived of voice, of motion, and of breath ; 
The soul scarce waking in the arms of 

death. 
Soon as warm life its wonted office found. 
The mindful chief Leucothea's scarf un- 
bound ; 
Observant of her word, he turn'd aside 590 
His head, and cast it on the rolling tide. 
Behind him far, upon the purple waves 
The waters waft it, and the nymph re- 
ceives. 



Now parting from the stream, Ulysses ' 

found 
A mossy bank with pliant rushes crown'd; 
The bank he press'd, and gently kiss'd the 

ground; 
Where on the flow'ry herb as soft he lay, 
Thus to his soul the sage began to say : 
' What will ye next ordain, ye Powers on 

high! 
And yet, ah yet, what fates are we to 



try? 



600 



Here by the stream, if I the night out- 
wear, 
Thus spent already, how shall nature bear 
The dews descending, and nocturnal air ? 
Or chilly vapours breathing from the flood 
When morning rises ? — If I take the 

wood. 
And in thick shelter of innumerous boughs 
Enjoy the comfort gentle sleep allows; 
Tho' fenc'd from cold, and tho' my toil be 

past. 
What savage beasts may wander in the 

waste ! 
Perhaps I yet may fall a bloody prey 610 
To prowling bears, or lions in the way.' 

Thus long debating in himself he stood: 
At length he took the passage to the wood, 
Whose shady horrors on a rising brow 
Waved high, and frown'd upon the stream 

below. 
There grew two olives, closest of the grove, 
With roots entwin'd, and branches inter- 
wove; 
Alike their leaves, but not alike they smil'd 
With sister-fruits; one fertile, one was 

wild. 
Nor here the sun's meridian rays had 

power, 620 

Nor wind sharp-piercing, nor the rushing 

shower; 
The verdant arch so close its texture kept: 
Beneath this covert great Ul^'sses crept. 
Of gather'd leaves an ample bed he made 
(Thick strewn by tempest thro' the bow'ry 

shade) ; 
Where three at least might winter's cold 

defy, 
Tho' Boreas raged along th' inclement 

sky. 
This store with joy the patient hero found, 
And, sunk amidst them, heap'd the leaves 

around. 
As some poor peasant, fated to reside 630 
Remote from neighbours in a forest wide, 



THE ODYSSEY 



553 



Studious to save what human wants require, 
In embers heap'd, preserves the seeds of 

fire: 
Hid in dry foliage thus Ulysses lies, 
Till Pallas pour'd soft slumbers on his 

eyes: 
And golden dreams (the gift of sweet re- 
pose) 
Lull'd all his cares, and banish'd all his 
woes. 



BOOK VII 

THE COURT OF ALCINOUS 
ARGUMENT 

The princess Nausicaa returns to the city, and 
Ulj'sses soon after follows thither. He is 
met by Pallas in the form of a young* virg-in, 
who guides him to the palace, and directs 
him in what manner to address the queen 
Aret^. She then involves him in a nust, 
which causes him to pass invisible. The 
palace and gardens of Alcinoiis described. 
Ulysses falling- at the feet of the Queen, the 
mist disperses, the Phaeacians admire, and 
receive him with respect. The Queen in- 
quiring- by what means he had the garments 
he then wore, he relates to her and Alcinoiis 
his departure from Calypso, and his arrival 
on their dominions. 

The same day continues, and the book ends 
with the night. 

The patient heav'nly man thus suppliant 
pray'd; 

While the slow mules draw on th' imperial 
maid : 

Thro' the proud street she moves, the pub- 
lic gaze; 

The turning wheel before the palace stays. 

With ready love her brothers gath'ring 
round, 

Receiv'd the vestures, and the mules un- 
bound. 

She seeks the bridal bower: a matron there 

The rising fire supplies with busy care, 

Whose charms in youth her father's heart 
inflamed. 

Now worn with age, Eurymedusa named: lo 

The captive dame Phseacian rovers bore, 

Snatch'd from Epirus, her sweet native 
shore 

(A grateful prize), and in her bloom be- 
stow'd 

On good Alcinoiis, honour'd as a God; 



Nurse of Nausicaa from her infant years, 
And tender second to a mother's cares. 
Now from the sacred thicket, where he 

lay, 
To town Ulysses took the winding way. 
Propitious Pallas, to secure her care, 19 
Around him spread a veil of thicken'd air; 
To shun th' encounter of the vulgar crowd, 
Insulting still, inquisitive and loud. 
When near the famed Phseacian walls he 

drew, 
The beauteous city opening to his view, 
His step a virgin met, and stood before: 
A polish'd urn the seeming virgin bore, 
And youthful smil'd; but in the low dis- 
guise 
Lay hid the Goddess with the Azure Eyes. 
' Show me, fair daughter ' (thus the 

Chief demands), 
* The house of him who rules these happy 

lands ; 30 

Thro' many woes and wand'rings, lo ! I 

come 
To good Alcinoiis' hospitable dome. 
Far from my native coast, I rove alone, 
A wretched stranger, and of all unknown ! ' 

The Goddess answer'd: ' Father, I obey, 
And point the wand'ring traveller his way: 
Well known to me the palace you inquire. 
For fast beside it dwells my honour'd sire: 
But silent march, nor greet the common 

train 
With question needless, or inquiry vain: 40 
A race of rugged mariners are these: 
Unpolish'd men, and boist'rous as their 

seas: 
The native islanders alone their care. 
And hateful he who breathes a foreign air. 
These did the ruler of the deep ordain 
To build proud navies, and command the 

main ; 
On canvas wings to cut the wat'ry way; 
No bird so light, no thought so swift as 

they.' 
Thus having spoke, th' unknown Celestial 

leads: 
The footsteps of the deity he treads, 50 

And secret moves along the crowded space, 
Unseen of all the rude Phseacian race 
(So Pallas order'd. Pallas to their eyes 
The mist objected, and condens'd the skies). 
The Chief with wonder sees th' extended 

streets. 
The spreading harbours, and the riding 

fleets; 



554 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



r 



He next their Princes' lofty domes ad- 
mires, 
In sep'rate islands, crown'd with rising 

spires; 
And deep intrenchments, and high walls of 

stone, 
That gird the city like a marble zone. 60 
At length the kingly palace gates he 

vievv'd; 
There stopp'd the Goddess, and her speech 
renew'd. 
'My task is done; the mansion you in- 
quire 
Appears before you: enter, and admire. 
High-throned, and feasting, there thou 

shalt behold 
The sceptred rulers. Fear not, but be 

bold: 
A decent boldness ever meets with friends, 
Succeeds, and ev'n a stranger recommends. 
First to the Queen prefer a suppliant's 

claim, 
Alcinoiis' Queen, Aretfe is her name, 70 
The same her parents, and her power the 

same. 
For know, from Ocean's God NausithoUs 

sprung. 
And Periboea, beautiful and young; 
(Eurymedon's last hope, who ruled of old 
The race of giants, impious, proud, and 

bold; 
Perish'd the nation in unrighteous war, 
Perish'd the Prince, and left this only 

heir) ; 
Who now, by Neptune's am'rous power 

compress'd. 
Produced a Monarch that his people bless'd. 
Father and Prince of the Phseacian name ; 80 
From him Phexenor and Alcinoiis came. 
The first by Phcebus' burning arrows fired. 
New from his nuptials, hapless youth ! ex- 
pired. 
No son survived: Aret^ heir'd his state. 
And her Alcinoiis chose his royal mate. 
With honours yet to womankind unknown 
This Queen he graces, and divides the 

throne ; 
In equal tenderness her sons conspire, 
And all the children emulate their sire. 
When thro' the street she gracious deigns 
to move 90 

(The public wonder and the public love), 
The tongues of all with transport sound 

her praise, 
The eyes of all, as on a Goddess, gaze. 



She feels the triumph of a gen'rous^ 

breast ; 
To heal divisions, to relieve th' oppress'd; 
In virtue rich; in blessing others, bless'd. 
Go then secure, thy humble suit prefer, 
And owe thy country and thy friends to 

her.' 
With that the Goddess deign'd no longer 

stay, 
But o'er the world of waters wing'd her 

way: 100 

Forsaking Scheria's ever-pleasing shore. 
The winds to Marathon the virgin bore: 
Thence, where proud Athens rears her 

tow'ry head. 
With opening streets and shining struc- 
tures spread. 
She pass'd, delighted with the well-known 

seats; 
And to Erectheus' sacred dome retreats. 

Meanwhile Ulysses at the palace waits, ^ 
There stops, and anxious with his soul I 

debates, [ 

Fix'd in amaze before the royal gates. J 
The front appear'd with radiant splendours 

gay, no 

Bright as the lamp of night, or orb of day. 
The walls were massy brass : the cornice 

high 
Blue metals crown'd in colours of the sky; 
Rich plates of gold the folding doors in- 
case; 
The pillars silver, on a brazen base; 
Silver the lintels deep-projecting o'er. 
And gold the ringlets that command the 

door. 
Two rows of stately dogs on either hand, 
In sculptured gold and labour'd silver 

stand. 
These Vulcan form'd with art divine, to 

wait 120 

Immortal guardians at Alcinoiis' gate; 
Alive each animated frame appears. 
And still to live beyond the power of 

years. 
Fair thrones within from space to space 

were rais'd, 
Where various carpets with embroid'ry 

blazed, 
The work of matrons: these the Princes 

press'd. 
Day foll'wing day, a long continued feast. 
Refulgent pedestals the walls surround, 
Which boys of gold with flaming torches 

crown'd; 



THE ODYSSEY 



555 



The polish'd ore, reflecting every ray, 130 
Blazed on the banquets with a double day. 
Fiul fifty handmaids form'd the household 

train; 
Some turn the mill, or sift the golden 

grain; 
Some ply the loom; their busy fingers 

move 
Like poplar-leaves when Zephyr fans the 

grove. 
Not more renowu'd the men of Scheria's 

isle, 
For sailing arts and all the naval toil. 
Than works of female skill their women's 

pride, 
The flying shuttle thro' the threads to 

guide : 
Pallas to these her double gifts imparts, 140 
Inventive genius, and industrious arts. 
Close to the gates a spacious garden 

lies. 
From storms defended and inclement 

skies. 
Four acres was th' allotted space of 

ground, 
Fenc'd with a green enclosure all around. 
Tall thriving trees confess'd the fruitful 

mould ; 
The redd'uing apple ripens here to gold. 
Here the blue fig with luscious juice o'er- 

flows. 
With deeper red the full pomegranate 

glows ; 
The branch here bends beneath the weighty 

pear, _ 150 

And verdant olives flourish round the year. 
The balmy spirit of the western gale 
Eternal breathes on fruits, untaught to 

fail; 
Each dropping pear a foll'wing pear sup- 
plies. 
On apples apples, figs on figs arise: 
The same mild season gives the blooms to 

blow. 
The buds to harden, and the fruits to 

grow. 
Here order'd vines in equal ranks ap- 
pear, 
With all th' united labours of the year; 
Some to unload the fertile branches run, 160 
Some dry the black'ning clusters in the 

sun; 
Others to tread the liquid harvest join, 
The groaning presses foam with floods of 

wine. 



Here are the vines in early flower de-' 

scried, 
Here grapes discolour'd on the sunny 

side. 
And there in Autumn's richest purple 

dyed. 
Beds of all various herbs, for ever 

green. 
In beauteous order terminate the scene. 
Two plenteous fountains the whole pro- 
spect crown'd: 
This thro' the gardens leads its streams I 

around, 170 

Visits each plant, and waters all the 

ground ; 
While that in pipes beneath the palace 

flows, 
And thence its current on the town be- 
stows: 
To various iise their various streams they 

bring. 
The people one, and one supplies the King. 
Such were the glories which the Gods 

ordain'd. 
To grace Alcinoiis, and his happy land. 
Ev'n from the Chief whom men and na- 
tions knew, 
Th' unwonted scene surprise and rapture 

drew; 
In pleasing thought he ran the prospect 

o'er, 180 

Then hasty enter'd at the lofty door. 
Night now approaching, in the palace 

stand. 
With goblets crown'd, the rulers of the 

laud; 
Prepared for rest, and off'ring to the God 
Who bears the virtue of the sleepy rod. 
Unseen he glided thro' the joyous crowd, 
With darkness circled, and an ambient 

cloud. 
Direct to great Alcinoiis' throne he came. 
And prostrate fell before th' imperial 

dame. 
Then from around him dropp'd the veil of 

night; 190 

Sudden he shines, and manifest to sight. 
The nobles gaze, with awful fear op- 

press'd ; 
Silent they gaze, and eye the godlike 

guest. 
* Daughter of great Rhexenor ! ' (thus 

began, 
Low at her knees, the much-enduring 

man), 



556 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



* To thee, thy consort, and this royal 

train, 
To all that share the blessings of your 

reign, 
A suppliant bends: oh pity human woe ! 
'T is what the happy to th' unhappy owe. 
A wretched exile to his country send, 200 
Long worn with griefs, and long without a 

friend. 
So may the Gods your better days in- 
crease. 
And all your joys descend on all your 

race: 
So reign for ever on your country's breast, 
Your people blessing, by your people 

bless'd ! ' 
Then to the genial hearth he bow'd his 

face, 
And humbled in the ashes took his place. 
Silence ensued. The eldest first began, 
Echeneus sage, a venerable man ! 
Whose well-taught mind the present age 

surpass'd, 210 

And join'd to that th' experience of the 

last. 
Fit words attended on his weighty sense, 
And mild persuasion flow'd in eloquence. 
* Oh sight ' (he cried) ' dishonest and un- 
just ! 
A guest, a stranger, seated in the dust ! 
To raise the lowly suppliant from the 

. ground 
Befits a Monarch. Lo ! the peers around 
But wait thy word, the gentle guest to 

grace, 
And seat him fair in some distinguish'd 

place. 
Let first the herald due libation pay 220 
To Jove, who guides the wand'rer on his 

way; 
Then set the genial banquet in his view, 
And give the stranger-guest a stranger's 

due.' 
His sage advice the list'ning King obeys; 
He stretch'd his hand the prudent Chief to 

raise, 
And from his seat Laodamas remov'd 
(The Monarch's offspring, and his best-be- 

lov'd); 
There next his side the godlike Hero sate; 
With stars of silver shone the bed of state. 
The golden ewer a beauteous handmaid 

brings, 230 

Replenish'd from the cool translucent 

springs, 



Whose polish'd vase with copious streams 

supplies 
A silver laver of capacious size. 
The table next in regal order spread. 
The glitt'ring canisters are heap'd with 

bread : 
Viands of various kinds invite the taste, 
Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast ! 
Thus feasting high, Alcinoiis gave the sign, 
And bade the Herald pour the rosy wine. 
' Let all around the due libation pay 240 
To Jove, who guides the wand'rer on his 

way.' 
He said. Pontonoiis heard the King's 

command; 
The circling goblet moves from hand to 

hand; 
Each drinks the juice that glads the heart 

of man. 
Alcinoiis then, with aspect mild, began : 
* Princes and Peers, attend ; while we 

impart 
To you the thoughts of no inhuman heart. 
Now pleas'd and satiate from the social 

rite 
Repair we to the blessings of the night; 
But with the rising day, assembled here, 250 
Let all the elders of the land appear. 
Pious observe our hospitable laws. 
And Heav'n propitiate in the stranger's 

cause; 
Then join'd in council, proper means ex- 
plore 
Safe to transport him to the wished-for 

shore 
(How distant that, imports not us to know. 
Nor weigh the labour, but relieve the woe). 
Meantime, nor harm nor anguish let him 

bear : 
This interval, Heav'n trusts him to our 

care; 259 

But to his native land our charge resign'd, 
Heav'n's is his life to come, and all the woes 

behind. 
Then must he suffer what the Fates ordain ; 
For Fate has wove the thread of life with 

pain ! 
And twins ev'n from the birth are Misery 

and Man ! 

But if, descended from th' Olympian bower, 
Gracious approach us some immortal Power; 
If in that form thou com'st a guest divine ; 
Some high event the conscious Gods design. 
As yet, unbid they never graced our feast, 
The solemn sacrifice call'd down the guest; 



THE ODYSSEY 



557 



Then manifest of Heav'n the vision stood, 271 
And to our eyes familiar was the God. 
Oft with some favour' d traveller they 

stray, 
And shine before him all the desert way; 
With social intercourse, and face to face. 
The friends and guardians of our pious 

race. 
So near approach we their celestial kind. 
By justice, truth, and probity of mind; 
As our dire neighbours of Cyclopean birth 
Match in fierce wrong the giant - sons of 

earth.' 280 

* Let no such thought ' (with modest 

grace rejoin'd 
The prudent Greek) ' possess the royal 

mind. 
Alas ! a mortal, like thyself, am I; 
No glorious native of yon azure sky : 
In form, ah how unlike their heav'nly kind! 
How more inferior in the gifts of mind ! 
Alas, a mortal ! most oppress'd of those 
Whom Fate has loaded with a weight of 

woes; 
By a sad train of miseries alone 289 

Distinguish'd long, and second now to none! 
By Heav'n's high will compell'd from shore 

to shore, 
With Heav'n's high will prepared to suffer 

more. 
What histories of toil could I declare ! 
But still long- wearied nature wants repair; 
Spent with fatigue, and slirunk with pining 

fast. 
My craving bowels still require repast. 
Howe'er the noble, suff'ring mind may grieve 
Its load of anguish, and disdain to live, 
Necessity demands our daily bread; 
Hunger is insolent, and will be fed. 300 

But finish, O ye Peers! what you propose, 
And let the morrow's dawn conclude my 

woes. 
Pleas'd will I suffer all the Gods ordain. 
To see my soil, my son, my friends again. 
That view vouchsafed, let instant death 

surprise 
With ever-during shade these happy eyes! ' 
Th' assembled Peers with gen'ral praise 

approv'd 
His pleaded reason, and the suit he mov'd. 
Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares, 
And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs. 310 
Ulysses in the regal walls alone "] 

Remain'd : beside him, on a splendid throne > 
Divine Aret6 and Alcinous shone. J 



The Queen, on nearer view, the guest sur- 
vey 'd, 
Robed in the garments her own hands had 

made, 
Not without wonder seen. Then thus be- 
gan. 
Her words addressing to the godlike man: 
' Camest thou not hither, wondrous stran- 
ger! say, 
From lands remote, and o'er a length of 

sea ? 
Tell then whence art thou ? whence that 
princely air ? 320 

And robes like these, so recent and so 
fair ? ' 
' Hard is the task, O Princess ! you im- 
pose ' 
(Thus sighing spoke the man of many 

woes), 
* The long, the mournful series to relate 
Of all my sorrows sent by Heav'n and 

Fate! 
Yet what you ask, attend. An island lies 
Beyond these tracts, and under other skies, 
Ogygia named, in Ocean's vvat'ry arms ; 
Where dwells Calypso, dreadful in her 

charms ! 
Remote from Gods or men she holds her 
reign, ^ 330 

Amid the terrors of the rolling main. 
Me, only me, the hand of Fortune bore, 
Unblest ! to tread that interdicted shore: 
When Jove tremendous in the sable deeps 
Launch'd his red lightning at our scatter'd 

ships. 
Then, all my fleet, and all my foU'wers 

lost, 
Sole on a plank, on boiling surges toss'd, 
Heav'n drove my wreck th' Ogygian isle to 

find. 
Full nine days floating to the wave and 
wind. 339 

Met by the Goddess there with open arms. 
She bribed my stay with more than human 

charms ; 
Nay, promis'd, vainly promis'd, to bestow 
Immortal life, exempt from age and woe ; 
But all her blandishments successless prove. 
To banish from my breast my country's 

love. 
I stay reluctant sev'n continued years. 
And water her ambrosial couch Avith tears ; 
The eighth she voluntary moves to part, 
Or urged by Jove, or her own changeful 
heart. 



558 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



A raft was form'd to cross the surging' 

sea; _ 350 

Herself supplied the stores and rich array, 
And gave the gales to waft me on the way. 
In sev'nteen days appear'd your pleasing 

coast, 
And woody mountains half in vapours lost. 
Joy touch'd my soul : my soul was joy'd in 

vain, 
For angry Neptune rous'd the raging main ; 
The wild winds whistle, and the billows "j 

roar; I 

The splitting raft the furious tempest tore ; | 
And storms vindictive intercept the shore. J 
Soon as their rage subsides, the seas I 

brave 360 

With naked force, and shoot along the 

wave. 
To reach this isle ; but there my hopes were 

lost; 
The surge impell'd me on a craggy coast. 
I chose the safer sea, and chanced to find 
A river's mouth impervious to the wind, 
And clear of rocks. I fainted by the flood; 
Then took the shelter of the neighb'ring 

wood. 
'T was night, and cover'd in the foliage 

deep, 
Jove plunged my senses in the death of 

sleep. 
All night I slept, oblivious of my pain: 370 
Aurora dawn'd, and Phcebus shined in vain, 
Nor, till oblique he sloped his ev'ning ray. 
Had Somnus dried the balmy dews away. 
Then female voices from the shore I heard: 
A maid amidst them, goddess-like, ap- 
pear'd ; 
To her I sued, she pitied my distress; 
Like thee in beauty, nor in virtue less. 
Who from such youth could hope con- 

sid'rate care ? 
In youth and beauty wisdom is but rare ! 
She gave me life, reliev'd with just sup- 
plies 380 
My wants, and lent these robes that strike 

your eyes. 
This is the truth: and oh, ye Powers on high! 
Forbid that want should sink me to a lie.' 
To this the King : ' Our daughter but 

express'd 
Her cares imperfect to her godlike guest. 
Suppliant to her since first he chose topray, ' 
Why not herself did she conduct the way. 
And with her handmaids to our court 

convey ? ' 



* Hero and King ' (Ulysses thus replied), 
'Nor blame her faultless, nor suspect of 
pride: 390 

She bade me follow in th' attendant train; 
But fear and rev'rence did my steps detain, 
Lest rash suspicion might alarm thy mind: 
Man 's of a jealous and mistaking kind.' 
' Far from my soul ' (he cried) * the Gods 
efface 
All wrath ill-grounded, and suspicion base ! 
Whate'er is honest, stranger, I approve, 
And would to Phcebus, Pallas, and to Jove, 
Such as thou art, thy thought and mine 

were one. 
Nor thou unwilling to be call'd my son, 40c 
In such alliance could'st thou wish to join, 
A palace stor'd with treasures should be 

thine. 
But if reluctant, who shall force thy stay ? 
Jove bids to set the stranger on his way. 
And ships shall wait thee with the morn- 
ing ray. 
Till then, let slumber cross thy careful ' 

eyes; 
The wakeful mariners shall watch the 

skies. 
And seize the moment when the breezes 

rise. 

Then gently waft thee to the pleasing shore. 
Where thy soul rests, and labour is no 
more. 410 

Far as Euboea tho' thy country lay. 
Our ships with ease transport thee in a 

day. 
Thither of old, earth's giant son to view, 
On wings of winds with Rhadamanth they 

flew; 
This land, from whence their morning 

course begun. 
Saw them returning with the setting sun. 
Your eyes shall witness and confirm my 

tale. 
Our youth how dext'rous and how fleet our 

sail. 
When justly timed with equal sweep they 
row, 419 

And ocean whitens in long tracks below.' 
Thus he. No word the experienc'd man 
replies, 
But thus to Heav'n (and Heav'nward lifts 

his eyes): 
* O Jove ! O Father ! what the King ac- 
cords 
Do thou make perfect ! sacred be his 
words I 



THE ODYSSEY 



559 



Wide o'er the world Alcinoiis' glory shine! 

Let fame be his, and ah ! my country 
mine ! ' 
Meantime Aret^, for the hour of rest, 

Ordains the fleecy couch, and cov'ring vest; 

Bids her fair train the purple quilts pre- 
pare, 

And the thick carpets spread with busy 
care. 430 

With torches blazing in their hands they 
pass'd, 

And finish'd all their Queen's command 
with haste: 

Then gave the signal to the willing guest: 

He rose with pleasure, and retired to rest. 

There soft-extended, to the murm'ring 
sound 

Of the high porch, Ulysses sleeps pro- 
found ! 

Within, releas'd from cares Alcinoiis lies; 

And fast beside were closed Aret^'s eyes. 



BOOK IX 

THE ADVENTURES OF THE CICONS, LOTO- 
PHAGI, AND CYCLOPS 

ABGUMENT 

Ulysses beg-ins the relation of his adventures ; 
how, after the destruction of Troy, he with 
his companions made an incursion on the 
Cicons, by whom they were repulsed ; and 
meeting" with a storm, were driven to the 
coast of the Lotophagi. From thence they 
sailed to the land of the Cyclops, whose 
manners and situation are particularly char- 
acterized. The g-iant Polyphemus and liis 
cave described ; the usage Ulysses and his 
companions met with there ; and lastly, the 
method and artifice by which he escaped. 

Then thus Ulysses: * Thou whom first 

in sway. 
As first in virtue, these thy realms obey; 
How sweet the products of a peaceful reign ! 
The Heav'n-taught poet, and enchanting 

strain, 
The well-fiU'd palace, the perpetual feast, 
A land rejoicing, and a people bless'd: 
How goodly seems it ever to employ 
Man's social days in union and in joy; 
The plenteous board high-heap'd with cates 

divine. 
And o'er the foaming bowl the laughing 

wine 1 10 



* Amid these joys, why seeks thy mind to 

know 
Th' unhappy series of a wand'rer's woe ? 
Remembrance sad, whose image to review, 
Alas ! must open all my wounds anew ! 
And oh, what first, what last shall I relate, 
Of woes unnumber'd sent by Heav'n and 

Fate? 
' Know first the man (tho' now a wretch 

distress'd) 
Who hopes thee. Monarch, for his future 

guest: 
Behold Ulysses ! no ignoble name. 
Earth sounds my wisdom, and high Heav'n 

my fame. 20 

' My native soil is Ithaca the fair. 
Where high Neritus waves his woods in air; 
Dulichium, Sam6, and Zacynthus crown'd 
With shady mountains, spread their isles 

around 
(These to the north and night's dark re- 
gions run. 
Those to Aurora and the rising sun) ; 
Low lies our isle, yet bless'd in fruitful 

stores; 
Strong are her sons, tho' rocky are her 

shores; 
And none, ah none, so lovely to my sight. 
Of all the lands that Heav'n o'erspreads 

with light ! 30 

In vain Calypso long constrain'd my stay, 
With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay; 
With all her charms as vainly Circe strove, 
And added magic to secure my love. 
In pomps or joys, the palace or the grot, 
My country's image never was forgot. 
My absent parents rose before my sight, 
And distant lay contentment and delight. 
' Hear, then, the woes which mighty Jove 

ordain'd 39 

To wait my passage from the Trojan land. 
The winds from Ilion to the Cicons' shore. 
Beneath cold Ismarus, our vessels bore. 
We boldly landed on the hostile place. 
And sack'd the city, and destroy'd the race, 
Their wives made captive, their possessions 

shared. 
And ev'ry soldier found a like reward. 
I then advised to fly; not so the rest. 
Who stay'd to revel, and prolong the feast: 
The fatted sheep and sable bulls they slay. 
And bowls flow round, and riot wastes the 

day. ^ 50 

Meantime the Cicons, to their holds retired, 
Call on the Cicons, with new fury fired; 



56o 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



With early morn the gather'd country 

swarms 
And all the continent is bright with arms; 
Thick as the budding leaves or rising flowers 
O'erspread the land, when spring descends 

in showers: 
All expert soldiers, skill'd on foot to dare, 
Or from the bounding courser urge the war. 
Now fortune changes (so the Fates or- 
dain) ; 
Our hour was come to taste our share of 
pain. 60 

Close at the ships the bloody fight began, 
Wounded they wound, and man expires on 

man. 
Long as the morning sun increasing bright 
O'er Heav'n's pure azure spread the grow- 

_ ing light. 
Promiscuous death the form of war con- 
founds. 
Each adverse battle gor'd with equal 

wounds; 
But when his ev'ning wheels o'erhung the 

main. 
Then conquest crown'd the fierce Ciconian 

train. 
Six brave companions from each ship we 

lost, 
The rest escape in haste, and quit the 

coast. 70 

With sails outspread we fly th' unequal 

strife. 
Sad for their loss, but joyful of our life. 
Yet as we fled, our fellows' rites we paid, 
And thrice we call'd on each unhappy 

shade. 
'Meanwhile the God, whose hand the 

thunder forms, 
Drives clouds on clouds, and blackens 

Heav'n with storms. 
Wide o'er the waste the rage of Boreas 

sweeps, 
And night rush'd headlong on the shaded 

deeps. 
Now here, now there, the giddy ships are 

borne. 
And all the rattling shrouds in fragments 

torn. 80 

We furl'd the sail, we plied the lab'ring 

oar, 
Took down our masts, and row'd our ships 

to shore. 
Two tedious days, and two long nights we 

lay, 
O'erwatch'd and batter'd in the naked bay. 



But the third morning when Aurora brings, 
We rear the masts, we spread the canvas 

wings; 
Refresh'd and careless on the deck reclin'd, 
We sit, and trust the pilot and the wind. 
Then to my native country had I sail'd: 
But, the cape doubled, adverse winds pre- 

vail'd. 90 

Strong was the tide, which, by the north- 
ern blast 
Impell'd, our vessels on Cythera cast. 
Nine days our fleet th' uncertain tempest 

bore 
Far in wide ocean, and from sight of shore : 
The tenth we touch'd, by various errors 

toss'd. 
The land of Lotus, and the flow'ry coast. 
We climb'd the beach, and springs of 

water found, 
Then spread our hasty banquet on the 

ground. 
Three men were sent, deputed from the 

crew 99 

(A herald one) the dubious coast to view. 
And learn what habitants possess'd the 

place. 
They went, and found a hospitable race: 
Not prone to ill, nor strange to foreign 

guest. 
They eat, they drink, and Nature gives the 

feast: 
The trees around them all their food pro- 
duce; 
Lotus the name: divine, nectareous juice 
(Thence called Lotophagi); which whoso 

tastes. 
Insatiate riots in the sweet repasts, 
Nor other home nor other care intends. 
But quits his house, his country, and his 

friends. no 

The three we sent, from off th' enchanting 

ground 
We dragged reluctant, and by force we 

bound: 
The rest in haste forsook the pleasing 

shore. 
Or, the charm tasted, had return'd no 

more. 
Now placed in order on their banks, they 

sweep 
The sea's smooth face, and cleave the hoary 

deep; 
With heavy hearts we labour thro' the 

tide. 
To coasts unknown, and oceans yet untried. 



THE ODYSSEY 



S6i 



* The land of Cyclops first, a savage kind, 
Nor tamed by manners, nor by laws con- 

fin'd: 120 

Untaught to plant, to turn the glebe and 

sow, 
They all their products to free Nature owe. 
The soil untill'd a ready harvest yields. 
With wheat and barley wave the golden 

fields; 
Spontaneous wines from weighty clusters 

pour, 
And Jove descends in each prolific shower. 
By these no statutes and no rights are 

known. 
No Council held, no Monarch fills the 

throne, 
But high on hills, or airy cliffs, they dwell. 
Or deep in caves whose entrance leads to 

Hell. 130 

Each rules his race, his neighbour not his 

care. 
Heedless of others, to his own severe. 
' Opposed to the Cyclopean coasts, there 

lay 
An isle, whose hills their subject fields 

survey; 
Its name Lachsea, crown'd with many a. 

grove, 
Where savage goats thro' pathless thickets 

rove: 
No needy mortals here, with hunger bold, 
Or wretched hunters thro' the wintry cold 
Pursue their flight; but leave them safe to 

bound 
From hill to hill, o'er all the desert 

ground. 140 

Nor knows the soil to feed the fleecy care. 
Or feels the labours of the crooked share; 
But uninhabited, untill'd, unsown 
It lies, and breeds the bleating goat alone. 
For there no vessel with vermilion prore, 
Or bark of traffic, glides from shore to 

shore ; 
The rugged race of savages, unskill'd 
The seas to traverse, or the ships to build, 
Gaze on the coast, nor cultivate the soil, 
Unlearn'd in all th' industrious arts of 

toil. 150 

Yet here all products and all plants 

abound, 
Sprung from the fruitful genius of the 

ground; 
Fields waving high with heavy crops are 

seen. 
And vines that flourish in eternal green, 



Refreshing meads along the murm'ring 

main, 
And fountains streaming down the fruitful 
plain. 
' A port there is, inclosed on either side, 
Where ships may rest, unanchor'd and un- 
tied; 
Till the glad mariners incline to sail, 159 
And the sea whitens with the rising gale. 
High at the head from out the cavern'd 

rock. 
In living rills a grshing fountain broke: 
Around it, and above, for ever green, 
The bushy alders form'd a shady scene. 
Hither some fav'ring God, beyond our 

thought. 
Thro' all-surrounding shade our navy 

brought; 
For gloomy night descended on the main, 
Nor glimmer'd Phcebe in th' ethereal 

plain : 
But all unseen the clouded island lay. 
And all unseen the surge and rolling 
sea, 170 

Till safe we anchor'd in the shelter'd bay: 
Our sails we gather'd, cast our cables o'er, 
And slept secure along the sandy shore. 
Soon as again the rosy morning shone, 
Reveal'd the landscape and the scene un- 
known. 
With wonder serz'd, we view the pleasing 

ground. 
And walk delighted, and expatiate round. 
Rous'd by the woodland nymphs at early 

dawn. 
The mountain goats came bounding o'er 

the lawn: 
In haste our fellows to the ships repair, 180 
For arms and weapons of the sylvan war; 
Straight in three squadrons all our crew 

we part. 
And bend the bow, or wing the missile 

dart; 
The bounteous Gods afford a copious prey, 
And nine fat goats each vessel bears away: 
The royal bark had ten. Our ships com- 
plete 
We thus supplied (for twelve were all the 
fleet). 
* Here, till the setting sun roU'd down 
the light. 
We sat indulging in the genial rite: 
Nor wines were wanting; those from am- 
ple jars 190 
We drain'dj the prize of our Ciconian wars. 



562 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The land of Cyclops lay in prospect near; 
The voice of goats and bleating flocks we 

hear, 
And from their mountains rising smokes 

appear. 
Now sunk the sun, and darkness cover'd 

o'er 
The face of things: along the sea-beat 

shore 
Satiate we slept; but when the sacred 

dawn 
Arising glitter'd o'er the dewy lawn, 
I call'd my fellows, and these words ad- 

dress'd: 
** My dear associates, here indulge your 

rest: 200 

While, with my single ship, adventurous I 
Go forth, the manners of yon men to try; 
Whether a race unjust, of barb'rous might, 
Rude, and unconscious of a stranger's 

right, 
Or such who harbour pity in their breast. 
Revere the Gods, and succour the dis- 

tress'd." 
* This said, I climb'd my vessel's lofty 

side; 
My train obey'd me, and the ship untied. 
In order seated on their banks, they sweep 
Neptune's smooth face, and cleave the 

yielding deep. 210 

When to the nearest verge of land we 

drew, 
Fast by the sea a lonely cave we view. 
High, and with dark'ning laurels cover'd 

o'er; 
Where sheep and goats lay slumb'ring 

round the shore. 
Near this, a fence of marble from the 

rock, 
Brown with o'erarching pine and spreading 

oak: 
A giant shepherd here his flock maintains 
Far from the rest, and solitary reigns, 
In shelter thick of horrid shade reclin'd ; 
And gloomy mischiefs labour in his 

mind. 220 

A form enormous ! far unlike the race 
Of human birth, in stature, or in face; 
As some lone mountain's monstrous growth 

he stood, 
Crown'd with rough thickets, and a nod- 
ding wood. 
I left my vessel at the point of land, 
And close to guard it gave our crew com- 
mand: 



With only twelve, the boldest and the 

best, 
I seek th' adventure, and forsake the 

rest. 
Then took a goatskin, fill'd with precious " 

wine, 
The gift of Maron of Evantheus' line 230 
(The priest of Phoebus at th' Ismarian 

shrine). 

In sacred shade his honour'd mansion stood 
Amidst Apollo's consecrated wood; 
Him, and his house, Heav'n mov'd my mind 

to save, 
And costly presents in return he gave; 
Sev'n golden talents to perfection wrought, 
A silver bowl that held a copious draught. 
And twelve large vessels of unmingled 

wine. 
Mellifluous, undecaying, and divine ! 
Which now, some ages from his race con- 

ceal'd, 240 

The hoary sire in gratitude reveal'd. 
Such was the wine: to quench whose fer- 
vent steam 
Scarce twenty measures from the living 

stream 
To cool one cup sufficed: the goblet crown'd 
Breathed aromatic fragrances around. 
Of this an ample vase we heav'd aboard. 
And brought another with provisions stor'd. 
My soul foreboded I should find the bower 
Of some fell monster, fierce with barb'rous 

power; 
Some rustic wretch, who liv'd in Heav'n 's 

despite, 250 

Contemning laws, and trampling on the 

right. 
The cave we found, but vacant all within 
(His flock the giant tended on the green) : 
But round the grot we gaze; and all we 

view. 
In order ranged, our admiration drew: 
The bending shelves with loads of cheeses 

press'd, 
The folded flocks each sep'rate from the 

rest 
(The larger here, and there the lesser 

lambs, 
The new-fall'n young here bleating for 

their dams; 
The kid distinguish'd from the lambkin 

lies) : 260 

The cavern echoes with responsive cries. 
Capacious chargers all around were laid, 
Full pails, and vessels of the milking trade. 



THE ODYSSEY 



563 



With fresh provisions hence our fleet to 
store 

My friends advise me, and to quit the 
shore; 

Or drive a flock of sheep and goats away, 

Consult our safety, and put ofl: to sea. 

The wholesome counsel rashly I declin'd, 

Curious to view the man of monstrous 
kind, 269 

And try what social rites a savage lends : 

Dire rites, alas ! and fatal to my friends! 
' Then first a fire we kindle, and prepare ! 

For his return with sacrifice and prayer. 

The laden shelves afford us full repast; 

We sit expecting. Lo! he comes at last. 

Near half a forest on his back he bore, 

And cast the pond'rous burden at the 
door. 

It thunder'd as it fell. We trembled then, 

And sought the deep recesses of the den. 

Now, driv'n before him thro' the arching 
rock, 280 

Came tumbling, heaps on heaps, th' un- 
number'd flock : 

Big-udder'd ewes, and goats of female 
kind 

(The males were penn'd in outward courts 
behind) ; 

Then, heav'd on high, a rock's enormous 
weight 

To the cave's mouth he roll'd, and closed 
the gate 

(Scarce twenty four-wheel'd cars, compact 
and strong. 

The massy load could bear, or roll along). 

He next betakes him to his evening cares. 

And, sitting down, to milk his flocks pre- 
pares; 289 

Of half their udders eases first the dams. 

Then to the mothers' teats submits the 
lambs. 

Half the white stream to hard'ning cheese ' 
he press'd. 

And high in wicker-baskets heap'd: the 
rest, 

Reserv'd in bowls, supplied his nightly 
feast. 

His labour done, he fired the pile, that gave 

A sudden blaze, and lighted all the cave. 

We stand discover'd by the rising fires ; 

Askance the giant glares, and thus in- 
quires: 
* " What are ye, guests ? on what adven- 
ture, say, 299 

Thus far ye wander thro' the wat'ry way ? 



Pirates perhaps, who seek thro' seas un- 
known 

The lives of others, and expose your own ? " 
' His voice like thunder thro' the cavern 
sounds : 

My bold companions thrilling fear con- 
founds, 

Appall'd at sight of more than mortal man! 

At length, with heart recover'd, I began: 
* " From Troy's famed fields, sad wand'- 
rers o'er the main. 

Behold the relics of the Grecian train ! 

Thro' various seas, by various perils, toss'd. 

And forc'd by storms, unwilling, on your 
coast; 310 

Far from our destin'd course and native 
land, 

Such was our fate, and such high Jove's 
command ! 

Nor what we are befits us to disclaim, 

Atrides' friends (in arms a mighty name). 

Who taught proud Troy and all her sons to 
bow: 

Victors of late, but humble suppliants 
now ! 

Low at thy knee thy succour we implore; 

Respect us, human, and relieve us, poor. 

At least, some hospitable gift bestow; 319 

'T is what the happy to th' unhappy owe : 

'T is what the Gods require: those Gods 
revere ; 

The poor and stranger are their constant 
care; 

To Jove their cause, and their revenge be- 
longs, 

He wanders with them, and he feels their 
wrongs." 
* " Fools that ye are " (the savage thus 
replies. 

His inward fury blazing at his eyes), 

" Or strangers, distant far from our abodes, 

To bid me rev'rence or regard the Gods, 

Know then, we Cyclops are a race above 

Those air-bred people, and their goat-nurs'd 
Jove; 330 

And learn, our power proceeds with thee 
and thine, 

Not as he wills, but as ourselves incline. 

But answer, the good ship that brought ye 
o'er, 

Where lies she anchor'd ? near or off the 
shore ? " 
* Thus he. His meditated fraud I find 

(Vers'd in the turns of various human- 
kind), 



5^4 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



y 



And, cautious, thus: "Against a dreadful 

rock, 
Fast by your shore, the gallant vessel broke. 
Scarce with these few I 'scaped, of all my 

train : 
Whom angry Neptune whelm'd beneath 

the main : 340 

The scatter'd wreck the winds blew back 

again." 

* He answer'd with his deed : his bloody 

hand 
Snatch'd two, unhappy ! of my martial band ; 
And dash'd like dogs against the stony 

floor: 
The pavement swims with brains and min- 
gled gore. 
Torn limb from limb, he spreads his horrid 

feast, 
And fierce devours it like a mountain 

beast: 
He sucks the marrow, and the blood he 

drains, 
Nor entrails, flesh, nor solid bone remains. 
We see the death from which we cannot 

move, 350 

And humbled groan beneath the hand of 

Jove. 
His ample maw with human carnage fill'd, 
A milky deluge next the giant swill'd; 
Then, stretch'd in length o'er half the cav- 

eru'd rock, 
Lay senseless, and supine, amidst the flock. 
To seize the time, and with a sudden wound 
To fix the slumb'ring monster to the ground, 
My soul impels me! and in act I stand 
To draw the sword; but wisdom held my 

hand. 
A deed so rash had finish'd all our fate, 360 
No mortal forces from the lofty gate 
Could roll the rock. In hopeless grief we 

^ lay. 
And sigh, expecting the return of day. 

* Now did the Rosy-finger'd Morn arise, 
And shed her sacred light along the skies. 
He wakes, he lights the fires, he milks the 

dams. 

And to the mothers' teats submits the 
lambs. 

The task thus finish'd of his morning hours. 

Two more he snatches, murders and de- 
vours. 

Then pleas'd, and whistling, drives his flock 
before, 370 

Removes the rocky mountain from the 
door, 



And shuts again: with equal ease disposed 
As a light quiver's lid is oped and closed. 
His giant voice the echoing region fills : 
His flocks, obedient, spread o'er all the 

hills. 
'Thus left behind, ev'n in the last de- 
spair 
I thought, devised, and Pallas heard my 

prayer. 
Revenge, and doubt, and caution, work'd 

my breast; 
But this of many counsels seem'd the 

best : 
The monster's club within the cave I 

spied, 380 

A tree of stateliest growth, and yet un- 

dried. 
Green from the wood: of height and bulk 

so vast. 
The largest ship might claim it for a mast. 
This shorten'd of its top, I gave my train 
A fathom's length, to shape it and to 

plane : 
The narrower end I sharpen'd to a spire; 
Whose point we harden'd with the force of 

fire. 
And hid it in the dust that strew'd the 

cave. 
Then to my few companions, bold and 

brave. 
Proposed, who first the venturous deed 

should try, 390 

In the broad orbit of his monstrous eye 
To plunge the brand, and twirl the pointed 

wood, 
When slumber next should tame the man 

of blood. 
Just as I wish'd, the lots were cast on 

four: 
Myself the fifth. We stand and wait the 

hour. 
He comes with ev'ning : all his fleecy 

flock 
Before him march, and pour into the rock: 
Not one, or male or female, stay'd be- 
hind 
(So fortune chanc'd, or so some God de- 
signed); 
Then heaving high the stone's unwieldy 

weight, 400 

He roU'd it on the cave, and closed the 

gate. 
First down he sits, to milk the woolly 

dams. 
And then permits their udders to the lambs. 



THE ODYSSEY 



56s 



Next seiz'd two wretches more, and head- 
long cast, 

Brain'd on the rock ; his second dire re- 
past. 

I then approach'd him reeking with their 
gore. 

And held the brimming goblet foaming 
o'er: 

"Cyclop! since human flesh has been thy 
feast, 

Now drain this goblet, potent to digest; 

Know hence what treasures in our ship we 

lost, 410 

And what rich liquors other climates boast. 
We to thy shore the precious freight shall 

bear, 
If home thou send us, and vouchsafe to 

spare. 
But oh ! thus furious, thirsting thus for " 

gore. 
The sons of men shall ne'er approach thy 

shore, 
And never shalt thou taste this nectar 

more." 

* He heard, he took, and, pouring down 

his throat, 
Delighted, swill'd the large luxurious 

draught. 
"More! give me more" (he cried), "the 

boon be thine, 
Whoe'er thou art that bear'st celestial 

wine! 420 

Declare thy name: not mortal is this juice, 
Such as th' unbless'd Cyclopean climes pro- 
duce 
(Tho' sure our vine the largest cluster 

yields, 
And Jove's scorn'd thunder serves to drench 

our fields) ; 
But this descended from the bless'd abodes, 
A rill of nectar, streaming from the Gods." 

* He said, and greedy grasp'd the heady 

bowl. 
Thrice drain'd, and pour'd the deluge on 

his soul. 
His sense lay cover'd with the dozy fume; 
While thus my fraudful speech I reas- 

sume. 430 

" Thy promised boon, O Cyclop ! now I 

claim. 
And plead my title; Noman is my name. 
By that distinguish'd from my tender 

years, 
'T is what my parents call me, and my 

peers." 



* The giant then : " Our promised grace 

receive. 
The hospitable boon we mean to give : 
When all thy wretched crew have felt my 

power, 
Noman shall be the last I will devour." 
'He said: then, nodding with the fumes 

of wine, 
Dropp'd his huge head, and snoring lay 

supine. 440 

His neck obliquely o'er his shoulders hung, 
Press'd with the weight of sleep, that tames 

the strong: 
There belch'd the mingled streams of wine 

and blood. 
And human flesh, his indigested food. 
Sudden I stir the embers, and inspire 
With animating breath the seeds of fire; 
Each drooping spirit with bold words re- 
pair. 
And urge my train the dreadful deed to 

dare: 
The stake now glow'd beneath the burning 

bed 
(Green as it was) and sparkled fiery red. 450 
Then forth the vengeful instrument I bring; 
With beating hearts my fellows form a ring. 
Urged by some present God, they swift let 

fall 
The pointed torment on his visual ball. 
Myself above them from a rising ground 
Guide the sharp stake, and twirl it round 

and round. 
As when a shipwright stands his workmen 

o'er, 
Who ply the wimble, some huge beam to 

bore; 
Urged on all hands, it nimbly spins about, 
The grain deep-piercing till it scoops it 

out: 460 

In his broad eye so whirls the fiery wood; 
From the pierc'd pupil spouts the boiling 

blood; 
Singed are his brows ; the scorching lids 

grow black; 
The jelly bubbles, and the fibres crack. 
And as when arm'rers temper in the ford 
The keen-edg'd pole-axe, or the shining 

sword. 
The red-hot metal hisses in the lake. 
Thus in his eye-ball hiss'd the plunging 

stake. 
He sends a dreadful groan, the rocks around 
Thro' all their inmost winding caves re- 
sound. 470 



S66 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Soared we receded. Forth with frantic 

hand, 
He tore, and dash'd on earth the gory 

brand : 
Then calls the Cyclops, all that round him 

dwell, 
With voice like thunder, and a direful yell. 
From all their dens the one-eyed race re- 
pair, 
From rifted rocks, and mountains bleak in 

air. 
All haste, assembled at his well-known 

roar. 
Inquire the cause, and crowd the cavern 

door, 

* " What hurts thee, Polypheme ? what 

strange affright 

Thus breaks our slumbers, and disturbs the 
night ? 480 

Does any mortal, in th' unguarded hour 

Of sleep, oppress thee, or by fraud or 
power ? 

Or thieves insidious thy fair flock sur- 
prise ? " 

Thus they : the Cyclop from his den re- 
plies: 

* " Friends, Noman kills me; Noman, in 

the hour 
Of sleep, oppresses me with fraudful 

power." 
" If no man hurt thee, but the hand divine 
Inflict disease, it fits thee to resign: 
To Jove or to thy father Neptune pray! " 
The brethren cried, and instant strode 

away. 490 

*Joy touch'd my secret soul and con- 
scious heart, 
Pleas'd with th' effect of conduct and of 

art. 
Meantime the Cyclop, raging with his 

wound. 
Spreads his wide arms, and searches round 

and round: 
At last, the stone removing from the gate. 
With hands extended in the midst he sate: 
And search'd each passing sheep, and felt 

it o'er. 
Secure to seize us ere we reach'd the door 
(Such as his shallow wit he deem'd was 

mine); 
But secret I revolv'd the deep design: 500 
'T was for our lives my lab'ring bosom 

wrought; 
Each scheme I turn'd, and sharpen'd ev*ry 

thought; 



This way and that I cast to save my friends, 
Till one resolve my varying counsel ends. 

* Strong were the rams, with native pur- 

ple fair. 
Well fed, and largest of the fleecy care. 
These, three and three, with osier bands 

we tied 
(The twining bands the Cyclop's bed sup- 
plied) ; 
The midmost bore a man, the outward two 
Secured each side : so bound we all the 

crew. 510 

One ram remain'd, the leader of the flock; 
In his deep fleece my grasping hands I 

lock, 
And fast beneath, in woolly curls inwove, 
There cling implicit, and confide in Jove. 
When rosy morning glimmer'd o'er the 

dales, 
He drove to pasture all the lusty males: 
The ewes still folded, with distended thighs 
Unmilk'd, lay bleating in distressful cries. 
But heedless of those cares, with anguish 

stung. 
He felt their fleeces as they pass'd along, 520 
(Fool that he was), and let them safely 

go, 
All unsuspecting of their freight below. 

* The master ram at last approach'd the 

gate. 
Charged with his wool, and with Ulysses' 

fate. 
Him, while he pass'd, the monster blind be- 
spoke: 
" What makes my ram the lag of all the 

flock? 
First thou wert wont to crop the flowVy 

mead. 
First to the field and river's bank to lead; 
And first with stately step at ev'ning hour 
Thy fleecy fellows usher to their bower. 530 
Now far the last, with pensive pace and 

slow 
Thou mov'st, as conscious of thy master's 

woe ! 
Seest thou these lids that now unfold in 

vain ? 
(The deed of Noman and his wicked train !) 
Oh! didst thou feel for thy afflicted lord. 
And would but Fate the power of speech 

afford, 
Soon might'st thou tell me, where in secret 

here 
The dastard lurks, all trembling with his 

fear: 



THE ODYSSEY 



567 



Swung round and round, and dash'd from 

rock to rock, 
His batter'd brains should on tlie pavement 

smoke. 540 

No ease, no pleasure my sad heart receives, 
While such a monster as vile Nomau 

lives." 
*The giant spoke, and thro' the hollow 

rock 
Dismiss'd the ram, the father of the flock. 
No sooner freed, and thro' th' inclosure 

pass'd. 
First I release myself, my fellows last: 
Fat sheep and goats in throngs we drive 

before. 
And reach our vessel on the winding shore. 
With joy the sailors view their friends re- 

turn'd. 
And hail us living, whom as dead they 

mourn'd. 550 

Big tears of transport stand in ev'ry eye: 
I check their fondness, and command to fly. 
Aboard in haste they heave the wealthy 

sheep, 
And snatch their oars, and rush into the 

deep. 
' Now off at sea, and from the shallows 

clear. 
As far as human voice could reach the ear, 
With taunts the distant giant I accost: 
" Hear me, O Cyclop ! hear, ungracious 

host ! 
'T was on no coward, no ignoble slave. 
Thou meditat'dst thy meal in yonder cave; 
But one the vengeance fated from above 561 
Doom'd to inflict; the instrument of Jove. 
Thy barb'rous breach of hospitable bands 
The God, the God revenges by my hands." 
* These words the Cyclop's burning rage 

provoke ; 
From the tall hill he rends a pointed rock; 
High o'er the billows flew the massy load. 
And near the ship came thund'ring on the 

flood. 
It almost brush'd the helm, and fell before: 
The whole sea shook, and refluent beat the 

shore. 570 

The strong concussion on the heaving tide 
Roll'd back the vessel to the island's side: 
Again I shov'd her off; our fate to fly. 
Each nerve we stretch, and ev'ry oar we ply. 
Just 'scaped impending death, when now 

again 
We twice as far had furrow'd back the 

main. 



Once more I raise ray voice; my friends, 
afraid. 

With mild entreaties my design dissuade: 

*' What boots the godless giant to provoke. 

Whose arm may sink us at a single 
stroke ? 580 

Already, when the dreadful rock he threw. 

Old Ocean shook, and back his surges 
flew. 

The sounding voice directs his aim again; 

The rock o'erwhelms us, and we 'scaped in 
vain." 
'But I, of mind elate, and scorning fear, 

Thus with new taunts insult the monster's 
ear: 

" Cyclop ! if any, pitying thy disgrace, 

Ask who disfigured thus that eyeless face ? 

Say 'twas Ulysses; 'twas his deed, de- 
clare, 

Laertes' son, of Ithaca the fair; 590 

Uh'sses, far in fighting fields renown'd, 

Before whose arm Troy tumbled to the 
ground." 
' Th' astonish' d savage with a roar re- 
plies: 

" Oh Heav'ns ! oh faith of ancient pro- 
phecies ! 

This Telemus Eurymedes foretold 

(The mighty seer who on these hills grew 
old; 

Skill'd the dark fates of mortals to de- 
clare, 

And learn'd in all wing'd omens of the 
air); 

Long since he menaced, such was Fate's 
command ; 599 

And named Ulysses' as the destin'd hand. 

I deem'd some godlike giant to behold. 

Or lofty hero, haughty, brave, and bold; 

Not this weak pigmy-wretch, of mean 
design. 

Who not by strength subdued me, but by 
wine. 

But come, accept our gifts, and join to pray 

Great Neptune's blessing on the wat'ry 
way; 

For his I am, and I the lineage own; 

Th' immortal father no less boasts the son. 

His power can heal me, and re-light my 
eye; 

And only his, of all the Gods on high." 610 
* " Oh ! could this arm " (1 thus aloud 
rejoin'd) 

" From that vast bulk dislodge thy bloody 
mind, 



568 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



And send thee howling to the realms of 

night, 
As sure as Neptune cannot give thee 

sight ! " 

* Thus I ; while raging he repeats his cries, 
With hands uplifted to the starry skies: 
"Hear nae, O Neptune; thou whose arms 

are hurl'd 

From shore to shore, and gird the solid 
world. 

If thine I am, nor thou my birth disown, 

And if th' unhappy Cyclop be thy son, 620 

Let not Ulysses breathe his native air, 

Laertes' son, of Ithaca the fair ! 

If to review his country be his fate, 

Be it thro' toils and suff 'rings, long and late; 

His lost companions let him first deplore; 

Some vessel, not his own, transport him 
o'er; 

And when at home from foreign suff'rings 
freed, 

More near and deep, domestic woes suc- 
ceed ! " 

* With imprecations thus he fill'd the air. 
And angry Neptune heard th' unrighteous 

prayer. 630 

A larger rock then heaving from the plain. 
He whirl'd it round; it sung across the 

main ; 
It fell, and brush'd the stern: the billows 

roar, 
Shake at the weight, and refluent beat the 

shore. 
'With all our force we kept aloof to sea. 
And gain'd the island where our vessels 

lay. 
Our sight the whole collected navy cheer'd. 
Who, waiting long, by turns had hoped and 

fear'd. 
There, disembarking on the green sea side. 
We land our cattle, and the spoil divide: 640 
Of these due shares to ev'ry sailor fall ; 
The master ram was voted mine by all : 
And him (the guardian of Ulysses' fate) 
With pious mind to Heav'n I consecrate. 
But the great God, whose thunder rends 

the skies, 
Averse, beholds the smoking sacrifice; 
And sees me wand'ring still from coast to 

coast: 
And all my vessels, all my people, lost ! 
While thoughtless we indulge the genial 

rite. 
As plenteous cates and flowing bowls in- 
vite ; 650 



Till ev'ning Phoebus roll'd away the light : 

Stretch'd on the shores in careless ease we 
rest. 

Till ruddy morning purpled o'er the east; 

Then from their anchors all our ships un- 
bind, 

And mount the decks, and call the willing 
wind. 

Now ranged in order on our banks, we 
sweep 

With hasty strokes the hoarse resounding 
deep; 

Blind to the future, pensive with our fears, 

Glad for the living, for the dead in tears.' 



BOOK X 

ADVENTURES WITH ^OLUS, THE L^STRY- 
GONS, AND CIRCE 

ARGUMENT 

Ulysses arrives at the island of -^olus, who 
gives him prosperous winds, and incloses the 
adverse ones in a bag-, which his companions 
untying, they are driven back again, and re- 
jected. Then they sail to the Lsestrygons, 
where they lose eleven ships, and, with one 
only remaining, proceed to the island of 
Circe. Eurylochus is sent first with some 
companions, all which, except Eurylochus, 
are transformed into swine. Ulysses then 
undertakes the adventure, and by the help 
of Mercury, who gives him the herb Moly, 
overcomes the enchantress, and procures the 
restoration of his men. After a year's stay 
with her, he prepares, at her instigation, for 
his voyage to the infernal shades. 

* At length we reach'd folia's sea-girt 
shore. 

Where great Hippotades the sceptre bore, 

A floating isle ! High rais'd by toil divine, 

Strong walls of brass the rocky coast con- 
fine. 

Six blooming youths, in private grandeur 
bred, 

And six fair daughters, graced the royal 
bed: 

These sons their sisters wed, and all re- 
main 

Their parents' pride, and pleasure of their 
reign. 

All day they feast, all day the bowls flow 
round. 

And joy and music thro' the isle resound : 10 



THE ODYSSEY 



569 



At uight each pair on splendid carpets 

lay, 
And crowu'd with love the pleasures of the 

day. 

* This happy port affords our waud'ring 

fleet 
A month's reception, and a safe retreat. 
Full oft the ISIonarch urged me to relate 
The fall of Ilion, and the Grecian Fate; 
Full oft I told ; at length for parting 

mov'd; 
The King with mighty gifts my suit ap- 

prov'd. 
The adverse winds in leathern bags he 

braced, 
Compress'd their force, and lock'd each 

struggling blast: 20 

For him the mighty Sire of Gods assign'd 
The tempest's lord, the Tyrant of the 

Wind: 
His word alone the list'ning storms obey, 
To smooth the deep, or swell the foamy 

sea. 
These in my hollow ship the Monarch hung, 
Securely fetter'd by a silver thong: 
But Zephyrus exempt, with friendly 

gales 
He charged to fill and guide the swelling 

sails: 
Hare gift ! but O, what gift to fools avails ? , 

* Nine prosp'rous days we plied the la- 

b'ring oar; 30 

The tenth presents our welcome native 

shore : 
The hills display the beacon's friendly 

And rising mountains gain upon our sight. 

Then first my eyes, by watchful toils op- 
press'd, 

Complied to take the balmy gifts of rest: 

Then first ray hands did from the rudder 
part 

(So much the love of home possess'd my 
heart) : 

When lo! on board a fond debate arose. 

What rare device those vessels might in- 
close ? 

What sum, what prize from ^olus I 
brought ? 40 

Whilst to his neighbour each express'd his 
thought: 
* " Say, whence, ye Gods, contending na- 
tions strive 

Who most shall please, who most our hero 
give ? 



Long have his coffers groan'd with Trojan 

spoils; 
Whilst we, the wretched partners of his 

toils, 
Reproach'd by want, our fruitless labours 

mourn, 
And only rich in barren fame return. 
Now iEolus, ye see, augments his store: 
But come, my friends, these mystic gifts 

explore." 
They said: and (oh curs'd Fate!) the thongs 

unbound; 50 

The gushing tempest sweeps the ocean 

round; 
Snatch'd in the whirl, the hurried navy 

flew, 
The ocean widen'd, and the shores with- 
drew. 
Rous'd from my fatal sleep, I long de- 
bate 
If still to live, or desp'rate plunge to 

fate; 
Thus doubting, prostrate on the deck I 

lay. 
Till all the coward thoughts of death gave 

way. 
* Meanwhile our vessels plough the "" 

liquid plain. 
And soon the known ^olian coast regain; 
Our groans the rocks remurmur'd to the 

main. 60^ 

We leap'd on shore, and with a scanty 

feast 
Our thirst and hunger hastily repress'd ; 
That done, two chosen heralds straight at- 
tend 
Our second progress to my royal friend: 
And him amidst his jovial sons we found; 
The banquet steaming, and the goblets 

crown'd : 
There humbly stopp'd with conscious shame 

and awe. 
Nor nearer than the gate presumed to 

draw. 
But soon his sons their well-known guest 

descried. 
And, starting from their couches, loudly 

cried, 70 

" Ulysses here I what daemon couldst thou 

meet 
To thwart thy passage, and repel thy fleet ? 
Wast thou not furnish'd by our choicest 

care 
For Greece, for home, and all thy soul held 

dear?" 



570 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Thus they ; in silence long my fate I 
mourn'd, 

At length these words with accent low 
return'd: 

" Me, lock'd in sleep, my faithless crew 
bereft 

Of all the blessings of your godlike gift! 

But grant, oh grant our loss we may re- 
trieve; 

A favour you, and you alone can give." 80 

* Thus I with art to move their pity 

tried, 
And toueh'd the youths ; but their stern 

Sire replied: 
"Vile wretch, begone! this instant I com- 
mand 
Thy fleet accurs'd to leave our hallow'd 

land. 
His baneful suit pollutes these bless'd 

abodes. 
Whose Fate proclaims him hateful to the 

Gods." 
*Thus fierce he said: we sighing went 

our way, 
And with desponding hearts put off to 

sea. 
The sailors spent with toils their folly 

mourn, 89 

But mourn in vain; no prospect of return. 
Six days and nights a doubtful course we' 

steer; 
The next proud Lamos' stately towers 

appear, 
And Laestrygonia's gates arise distinct in 

air. 
The shepherd, quitting here at night the 

plain. 
Calls, to succeed his cares, the watchful 

swPcin; 
But he that scorns the chains of sleep to 

wear. 
And adds the herdsman's to the shepherd's 

care. 
So near the pastures, and so short the "" 

way. 
His double toils may claim a double pay, 
And join the labours of the night and 

day. 100^ 

* Within a long recess a bay there lies, 
Edg'd round with cliffs high pointing to 

the skies; 
The jutting shores that swell on either 

side 
Contract its mouth, and break the rushinjj 

tide. 



Our eager sailors seize the fair retreat, 
And bound within the port their crowded 

fleet; 
For here retired the sinking billows sleep. 
And smiling calmness silver'd o'er the 

deep. 
I only in the bay refused to moor, 109 

And fix'd, without, my halsers to the shore. 
' From thence we climb'd a point, whose 

airy brow 
Commands the prospect of the plains be- 
low: 
No tracks of beasts, or signs of men, we 

found. 
But smoky volumes rolling from the ground. 
Two with our herald thither we command. 
With speed to learn what men possess'd the 

land. 
They went, and kept the wheel's smooth 

beaten road 
Which to the city drew the mountain 

wood; 
When lo! they met, beside a crystal spring. 
The daughter of Antiphates the king; 120 
She to Artacia's silver streams came down 
(Artacia's streams alone supply the town) ; 
The damsel they approach, and ask'd what 

race 
The people were ? who Monarch of the 

place ? 
With joy the maid th' unwary strangers 

heard. 
And show'd them where the royal dome 

appear'd. 
They went; but, as they ent'ring saw the 

Queen 
Of size enormous, and terrific mien 
(Not yielding to some bulky mountain's 

height), 129 

A sudden horror struck their aching sight. 
Swift at her call her husband scour'd 

away 
To wreak his hunger on the destin'd 

prey; 
One for his food the raging glutton slew, 
But two rush'd out, and to the navy flew. 
* Balk'd of his prey, the yelling monster 

flies. 
And fills the city with his hideous cries: 
A ghastly band of giants hear the roar. 
And, pouring down the mountains, crowd 

the shore. 
Fragments they rend from off the craggy 

brow. 
And dash the ruins on the ships below: 140 



THE ODYSSEY 



571 



The crackling vessels burst; hoarse groans 

arise, 
And mingled horrors echo to the skies: 
The men, like fish, they stuck upon the flood, 
And cramm'd their filthy throats with hu- 
man food. 
Whilst thus their fury rages at the bay. 
My sword our cables cut, I call'd to weigh; 
And charged my men, as they from Fate 

would fly, 
Each nerve to strain, each bending oar to 

ply. 

The sailors catch the word, their oars they 
seize. 

And sweep with equal strokes the smoky 
seas. 150 

Clear of the rocks th' impatient vessel flies; 

Whilst in the port each wretch encumber'd 
dies. 

With earnest haste my frighted sailors 
press, 

While- kindling transports glow'd at our 
success; 

But the sad fate that did our friends de- 
stroy, 

Cool'd every breast, and damp'd the rising 

joy- 

' Now dropp'd our anchors in the iEsean 

bay. 
Where Circe dwelt, the Daughter of the 

Day! 
Her mother Pers6, of old Ocean's strain, 
Thus from the Sun descended, and the 

Main 160 

(From the same lineage stern iEeetes came, 
The far-famed brother of th' enchantress 

dame) : 
Goddess, and Queen, to whom the powers 

belong 
Of dreadful magic, and commanding song. 
Some God directing, to this peaceful bay 
Silent we came, and melancholy lay. 
Spent and o'erwatch'd. Two days and 

nights roll'd on. 
And now the third succeeding morning 

shone. 
I climb'd a cliff, with spear and sword in 

hand, 
Whose rijlge o'erlook'd a shady length of 

land; 170 

To learn if aught of mortal works appear. 
Or cheerful voice of mortal strike the ear ? 
From the high point I mark'd, in distant 

view, 
A stream of curling smoke ascending blue, 



And spiry tops, the tufted trees above, 
Of Circe's palace bosom'd in the grove. 

* Thither to haste, the region to explore. 
Was first my thought: but, speeding back 

to shore, 
I deem'd it best to visit first my crew, 
And send out spies the dubious coast to 

view. 180 

As down the hill I solitary go, 
Some Power divine, who pities human woe, 
Sent a tall stag, descending from the 

wood. 
To cool his fervour in the crystal flood; 
Luxuriant on the wave-worn bank he lay, 
Stretch'd forth and panting in the sunny 

ray. 
I launch'd my spear, and with a sudden 

wound 
Transpiexc'd his back, and fix'd him to the 

ground. 
He falls, and mourns his fate with human 

cries: 
Tliro' the wide wound the vital spirit 

flies. 190 

I drew, and casting on the river's side 
The bloody spear, his gather'd feet I tied 
With twining osiers which the bank sup- 
plied. 
An ell in length the pliant wisp I weav'd, 
And the huge body on my shoulders 

heav'd: 
Then, leaning on my spear with both my 

hands, 
Upbore my load, and press'd the sinking 

sands 
With weighty steps, till at the ship I 

threw 
The welcome burden, and bespoke my 

crew: 
* " Cheer up, my friends ! it is not yet 

our fate 200 

To glide with ghosts thro' Pluto's gloomy 

gate. 
Food in the desert land, behold ! is giv'n; 
Live, and enjoy the providence of Heav'n." 

* The joyful crew survey his mighty 

size. 
And on the future banquet feast their 

eyes. 
As huge in length extended lay the beast; 
Then wash their hands, and liasten to the 

feast. 
There, till the setting sun roU'd down the 

light, 
They sate indulging in the genial rite. 



572 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



When ev'ning rose, and darkness cover'd 
o'er 2IO 

The face of things, we slept along the 
shore. 

But when the rosy morning warm'd the 
east, 

My men I summon'd, and these words ad- 
dress'd: 
* " Foll'wers and Friends ! attend what I 
propose, 

Ye sad companions of Ulysses' woes ! 

We know not here what land before us " 
lies, 

Or to what quarter now we turn our 
eyes, 

Or where the sun shall set, or where 
shall rise. 

Here let us think (if thinking be not vain) 

If any counsel, any hope remain. . 22c 

Alas ! from yonder promontory's brow 

I view'd the coast, a region flat and low; 

An isle encircled with the boundless flood ; 

A length of thickets, and entangled wood. 

Some smoke I saw amidst the forest rise, 

And all around it only seas and skies ! " 
* With broken hearts my sad com- 
panions stood. 

Mindful of Cyclops and his human food, 

And horrid Lsestrygons, the men of blood. 

Presaging tears apace began to rain: 230 

But tears in mortal miseries are vain. 

In equal parts I straight divide my band, 

And name a chief each party to command; 

I led the one, and of the other side 

Appointed brave Eurylochus the guide. 

Then in the brazen helm the lots we 
throw, 

And Fortune casts Eurylochus to go: 

He march 'd with twice eleven in his train; 

Pensive they march, and pensive we re- 
main. 
'The palace in a woody vale they found, 240 

High rais'd of stone; a shaded space 
around; 

Where mountain wolves and brindled lions 
roam 

(By magic tamed), familiar to the dome. 

With gentle blandishment our men they 
meet, 

And wag their tails, and fawning lick their 
feet. 

As from some feast a man returning late, 

His faithful dogs all meet him at the gate, 

Rejoicing round, some morsel to receive 

(Such as the good man ever used to give), 



Domestic thus the grisly beasts drew 

near; 250 

They gaze with wonder not unmix'd with 

fear. 
Now on the threshold of the dome they 

stood, 
And heard a voice resounding thro' the 

wood: 
Placed at her loom within, the Goddess 

sung; 
The vaulted roofs and solid pavement 

rung. 
O'er the fair web the rising figures shine, 
Immortal labour ! worthy hands divine. 
Polites to the rest the question mov'd 
(A gallant leader, and a man I lov'd): 
' " What voice celestial, chanting to the 

loom 260 

(Or Nymph, or Goddess), echoes from the 

room ? 
Say, shall we seek access ? " With that 

they call; 
And wide unfold the portals of the hall. 
* The Goddess, rising, asks her guests to 

stay. 
Who blindly follow where she leads the 

way. 
Eurylochus alone of all the band, 
Suspecting fraud, more prudently remain'd. 
On thrones around with downy cov'rings 

graced, 
With semblance fair, th' unhappy men she 

placed. 
Milk newly press'd, the sacred flour of 

wheat, 270 

And honey fresh, and Pramnian wines the 

treat: 
But venom'd was the bread, and mix'd the 

bowl, 
With drugs of force to darken all the 

soul : 
Soon in the luscious feast themselves they 

lost, 
And drank oblivion of their native coast. 
Instant her circling wand the Goddess 

waves, 
To hogs transforms them, and the sty re- 
ceives. 
No more was seen the human fofm divine; 
Head, face, and members, bristle into 

swine: 
Still curs'd with sense, their minds remain 

alone, 280 

And their own voice affrights them when 

they groan. 



THE ODYSSEY 



573 



Meanwhile the Goddess in disdain bestows 
The mast and acorn, brutal food ! and 

strows 
The fruits and cornel, as their feast, 

around; 
Now prone and grov'ling on unsav'ry 

ground. 
'Eurylochus, with pensive steps and slow, 
Aghast returns; the messenger of woe. 
And bitter fate. To speak he made es- ~ 

say; 
In vain essay'd, nor would his tongue 

obey. 
His swellino; heart denied the words 

their way: 290 j 

But speaking tears the want of words 

supply, 
And the full soul burst copious from his 

eye. 
AfPrighted, anxious for our fellows' fates, 
We press to hear what sadly he relates: 
* " We went, Ulysses (such was thy 

command), 
Thro' the lone thicket and the desert land. 
A palace in a woody vale we found. 
Brown with dark forests, and with shades 

around. 
A voice celestial echoed thro' the dome. 
Or Nymph or Goddess, chanting to the 

loom. 300 

Access we sought, nor was access denied: 
Radiant she came; the portals open'd 

wide : 
The Goddess mild invites the guests to 

stay : 
They blindly follow where she leads the 

way. 
1 only wait behind of all the train: 
I waited long, and eyed the doors in vain: 
The rest are vanish'd, none repass'd the 

gate ; 
And not a man appears to tell their fate." 
' I heard, and instant o'er my shoulder 

flung 
The belt in which my weighty faulchion 

hung 310 

(A beamy blade): then seiz'd the bended 

bow. 
And bade him guide the way, resolv'd to go. 
He, prostrate falling, with both hands em- 
braced 
My knees, and weeping thus his suit ad- 

dress'd: 
* " O King, belov'd of Jove, thy servant 

spare, 



And ah, thyself the rash attempt forbear ! 

Never, alas ! thou never shalt return, 

Or see the wretched, for whose loss we 
mourn. 

With what remains from certain ruin fly, 

And save the few not fated yet to die." 
'lanswer'd stern: "Inglorious then re- 
main, 321 

Here feast and loiter, and desert thy train. 

Alone, unfriended, will 1 tempt my way; 

The laws of Fate compel, and I obey." 

* This said, and scornful turning from the 

shore 
My haughty step, I stalk'd the valley o'er. 
Till now, approaching nigh the magic 

bower. 
Where dwelt th' enchantress skill'd in herbs 

of power, 
A form divine forth issued from the wood 
(Immortal Hermes with the golden rod), 330 
In human semblance. On his bloomy face 
Youth smiled celestial, with each opening 

grace. 
He seiz'd my hand, and gracious thus be- 
gan: 

* " Ah whither roam'st thou, much-endur- 

ing man ? 
O blind to Fate ! what led thy steps to rove 
The horrid mazes of this magic grove ? 
Each friend you seek in yon enclosure lies, 
All lost their form, and habitants of sties. 
Think'st thou by wit to model their escape ? 
Sooner shalt thou, a stranger to thy shape, 
Fall prone their equal: first thy danger 

know, 341 

Then take the antidote the Gods bestow. 
The plant I give thro' all the direful bower 
Shall guard thee, and avert the evil hour. 
Now hear her wicked arts. Before thy eyes 
The bowl shall sparkle, and the banquet 

rise; 
Take this, nor from the faithless feast ab- 
stain. 
For temper'd drugs and poison shall be 

vain. 
Soon as she strikes her wand, and gives the 

word. 
Draw forth and brandish thy refulgent 

sword, 350 

And menace death: those menaces shall 

move 
Her alter'd mind to blandishment and love. 
Nor shun the blessing proffer'd to thy 

arms. 
Ascend her bed, and taste celestial charms: 



574 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



So shall thy tedious toils a respite find, 
And thy lost friends return to human-kind. 
But swear her first by those dread oaths 

that tie 
The powers below, the blessed in the sky; 
Lest to thee naked secret fraud be meant. 
Or magic bind thee cold and impotent." 360 
' Thus while he spoke, the sov'reign 

plant he drew, 
Where on th' all-bearing earth unmark'd 

it grew. 
And show'd its nature and its wondrous 

power: 
Black was the root, but milky white the 

flower; 
Moly the name, to mortals hard to find, 
But all is easy to th' ethereal kind. 
This Hermes gave, then, gliding off the 

glade, 
Shot to Olympus from the woodland shade. 
While, full of thought, reyolving fates to 

come, 369 

I speed my passage to th' enchanted dome. 
Arrived, before the lofty gates I stay'd; 
The lofty gates the Goddess wide display 'd: 
She leads before, and to the feast invites; 
I follow sadly to the magic rites. 
Radiant with starry studs, a silver seat 
Receiv'd my limbs: a footstool eas'd my 

feet. 
She mix'd the potion, fraudulent of soul; 
The poison mantled in the golden bowl. 
I took, and quaff'd it, confident in Heav'n: 
Then waved the wand, and then the word 

was giv'n. 380 

" Hence to thy fellows ! " (dreadful she 

began) 
" Go, be a beast ! " — I heard, and yet was 

man. 

* Then sudden whirling, like a waving 

flame. 
My beamy faulchion, I assault the dame. 
Struck with unusual fear, she trembling 

cries, 
She faints, she falls; she lifts her weeping 

eyes. 

* " What art thou ? say ! from whence, 

from whom you came ? 
O more than human ! tell thy race, thy 

name. 
Amazing strength, these poisons to sustain ! 
Not mortal thou, nor mortal is thy brain. 390 
Or art thou he, the man to come (foretold 
By Hermes, powerful with the wand of 

gold), 



The man from Troy, who wander'd ocean 

round ; 
The man for wisdom's various arts re- 

nown'd, 
Ulysses ? Oh ! thy threat'ning fury cease, 
Sheathe thy bright sword, and join our 

hands in peace ! 
Let mutual joys our mutual trust combine, 
And love, and love-born confidence be 

thine." 
' " And how, dread Circe ! " (furious I 

rejoin) 
" Can love, and love-born confidence, be 

mine, 400 

Beneath thy charms when my companions 

groan, 
Transform'd to beasts, with accents not 

their own ? 
O thou of fraudful heart, shall I be led 
To share thy feast-rites, or ascend thy bed; 
That, all unarm'd, thy vengeance may have 

vent. 
And magic bind me cold and impotent ? 
Celestial as thou art, yet stand denied; 
Or swear that oath by which the Gods are 

tied. 
Swear, in thy soul no latent frauds remain, 
Swear by the vow which never can be 

vain." 410 

* The Goddess swore: then seiz'd my 

hand and led 
To the sweet transports of the genial bed. 
Ministrant to the Queen, with busy care 
Four faithful handmaids the soft rites pre- 
pare; 
Nymphs sprung from fountains, or from 

shady woods. 
Or the fair offspring of the sacred floods. 
One o'er the couches painted carpets threw, 
Whose purple lustre glow'd against the 

view: 
White linen lay beneath. Another placed 
The silver stands, with golden flaskets 

graced : 420 

With dulcet bev'rage this the beaker crowu'd 
Fair in the midst, with gilded cups around; 
That in the tripod o'er the kindled pile 
The water pours; the bubbling waters boil; 
An ample vase receives the smoking wave; 
And, in the bath prepared, my limbs I lave: 
Reviving sweets repair the mind's decay, 
And take the painful sense of toil away. 
A vest and tunic o'er me next she threw. 
Fresh from the bath, and dropping balmy 

dew; 430 



THE ODYSSEY 



575 



Then led and placed me on the sov'reig^u 

seat, 
With carpets spread; a footstool at my 

feet. 
The golden ewer a nymph obsequious 

brings, 
Replenish'd from the cool translucent 

springs ; 
With copious water the bright vase sup- 
plies 
A silver laver of capacious size. 
I wash'd. The table in fair order spread, 
They heap the glitt'ring canisters with 

bread; 
Viands of various kinds allure the taste, 
Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast ! 440 
Circe in vain invites the feast to share; 
Absent I ponder, and absorb'd in care: 
While scenes of woe rose anxious in my 

breast. 
The Queen beheld me, and these words 

address'd: 
< " Why sits Ulysses silent and apart. 
Some hoard of grief close harbour'd at his 

heart ? 
Untouch'd before thee stand the cates 

divine, 
And unregarded laughs the rosy wine. 
Can yet a doubt or any dread remain, 
When sworn that oath which never can be 

vain ? " 450 

'I answered: "Goddess! human is my 

breast, 
By justice sway'd, by tender pity press'd: 
111 fits it me, whose friends are sunk to 

beasts. 
To quaff thy bowls, or riot in thy feasts. 
Me would'st thou please ? for them thy 

cares employ. 
And them to me restore, and me to joy." 
* With that she parted : in her potent 

hand 
She bore the virtue of the magic wand. 
Then, hast'uing to the sties, set wide the 

door. 
Urged forth, and drove the bristly herd 

before ; 460 

Unwieldy, out they rush'd with gen'ral 

cry, 
Enormous beasts dishonest to the eye. 
Now, touch'd by counter-charms, they 

change again, 
And stand majestic, and recall'd to men. 
Those hairs of late that bristled ev'ry part, 
Fall off, miraculous effect of art ! 



Till all the form in full proportion rise. 
More young, more large, more graceful to 

my eyes. 
They saw, they knew me, and with eager 

pace 469 

Clung to their master in a long embrace : 
Sad, pleasing sight ! with tears each eye 

ran o'er, 
And sobs of joy re-echoed thro' the bower j 
Ev'n Circe wept, her adamantine heart 
Felt pity enter, and sustain'd her ])art. 

* " Son of Laertes! " (then the Queen be- 

gan) 
"Oh much-enduring, much-experienc'd man! 
Haste to thy vessel on the sea-beat shore. 
Unload thy treasures, and the galley moor; 
Then bring thy friends, secure from future 

harms. 
And in our grottoes stow thy spoils and 

arms." 480 

' She said. Obedient to her high com- 
mand 
I quit the place, and hasten to the strand. 
My sad companions on the beach I found, 
Their wistful eyes in floods of sorrow 

drown'd. 
As from fresh pastures and the dewy field 
(When loaded cribs their ev'ning banquet 

yield). 
The lowing herds return; around them 

throng 
With leaps and bounds their late impris- 

on'd young. 
Rush to their mothers with unruly joy, 
And echoing hills return the tender cry: 490 
So round me press'd, exulting at my sight. 
With cries and agonies of wild delight. 
The weeping sailors; nor less fierce their 

joy 
Than if return'd to Ithaca from Troy. 
" Ah master! ever honour'd, ever dear! " 
(These tender words on ev'ry side I hear) 
" What other joy can equal thy return ? 
Not that lov'd country for whose sight we 

mourn. 
The soil that nurs'd us, and that gave us 

breath : 499 

But ah ! relate our lost companions' death." 

* I answer'd cheerful: " Haste, your gal- 

ley moor 
And bring our treasures and our arms 

ashore: 
Those in yon hollow caverns let us lay; 
Then rise, and follow where I lead the 

way. 



576 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Your fellows live; believe your eyes, and 

come 
To taste the joys of Circe's sacred dome." 

* With ready speed the joyful crew obey; 
Alone Eurylochus persuades their stay. 

* " Whither " (he cried), " ah whither will 

ye run ? 
Seek ye to meet those evils ye should 

shun ? 510 

Will you the terrors of the dome explore, 
In swine to grovel, or in lions roar, 
Or wolf -like howl away the midnight hour 
In dreadful watch around the magic 

bower ? 
Remember Cyclops, and his bloody deed; 
The leader's rashness made the soldiers 

bleed." 
*I heard incens'd, and first resolv'd to 

speed 
My flying faulchion at the rebel's head. 
Dear as he was, by ties of kindred bound. 
This hand had stretch'd him breathless on 

the ground; 520 

But all at once my interposing train 
For mercy pleaded, nor could plead in vain: 
" Leave here the man who dares his Prince 

desert. 
Leave to repentance and his own sad heart. 
To guard the ship. Seek we the sacred 

shades 
Of Circe's palace, where Ulysses leads." 

* This with one voice declared, the rising 

train 
Left the black vessel by the murm'ring 

main. 
Shame touch'd Eurylochus's alter'd breast; 
He fear'd my threats, and follow'd with 

the rest. 530 

* Meanwhile the Goddess, with indulgent 

cares 

And social joys, the late transform'd re- 
pairs ; 

The bath, the feast, their fainting soul re- 
news; 

Rich in refulgent robes, and dropping 
balmy dews: 

Bright'ning with joy their eager eyes be- 
hold 

Each other's face, and each his story told ; 

Then gushing tears the narrative confound, 

And with their sobs the vaulted roofs re- 
sound. 

When hush'd their passion, thus the God- 
dess cries: 

" Ulysses, taught by labours to be wise, 540 



Let this short memory of grief suffice. 
To me are known the various woes ye bore, 
In storms by sea, in perils on the shore; 
Forget whatever was in Fortune's power. 
And share the pleasures of this genial hour. 
Such be your minds as ere ye left the coast, 
Or learn'd to sorrow for a country lost. 
Exiles and wand'rers now, where'er ye go, 
Too faithful memory renews your woe : 549 
The cause remov'd, habitual griefs remain. 
And the soul saddens by the use of pain." 
* Her kind entreaty mov'd the gen'ral 

breast; 
Tired with long toil, we willing sunk to 

rest. 
W^e plied the banquet, and the bowl we 

crown'd. 
Till the full circle of the year came round. 
But when the seasons, foU'wing in their 

train. 
Brought back the months, the days, and 

hours again. 
As from a lethargy at once they rise, 
And urge their chief with animating cries : 
* " Is this, Ulysses, our inglorious lot? 560 
And is the name of Ithaca forgot ? 
Shall never the dear land in prospect rise. 
Or the lov'd palace glitter in our eyes ? " 
'Melting I heard: yet till the sun's de- 
cline 
Prolong'd the feast, and quaff'd the rosy 

wine: 
But when the shades came on at ev'ning 

hour. 
And all lay slumb'ring in the dusky bower, 
I came a suppliant to fair Circe's bed, 
The tender moment seiz'd, and thus I said: 
" Be mindful. Goddess ! of thy promise 

made; 570 

Must sad Ulysses ever be delay'd ? 
Around their lord my sad companions 

mourn. 
Each breast beats homeward, anxious to 

return : 
If but a moment parted from thy eyes. 
Their tears flow round me, and my heart 

complies." 
* " Go then " (she cried), " ah go! yet 

think not I, 
Not Circe, but the Fates, your wish deny. 
Ah hope not yet to breathe thy native air! 
Far other journey first demands thy care; 
To tread th' uncomfortable paths beneath. 
And view the realms of darkness and of 

death. 581 



THE ODYSSEY 



577 



There seek the Theban bard, deprived of 

sight; 
Within, irradiate with prophetic light; 
To whom Persephon^, entire and whole, 
Gave to retain th' unseparated soul: 
The rest are forms, of empty ether made; 
Impassive semblance, and a flitting sliade." 
* Struck at the word, my very heart was 

dead: 
Pensive I sate: my tears bedew'd the bed: 
To hate the light and life my soul begun. 
And saw that all was grief beneath the 

sun. 591 

Composed at length, the gushing tears sup- 

press'd. 
And my toss'd limbs now wearied into 

rest, 
*' How shall I tread " (I cried), " ah, Circe! 

say. 
The dark descent, and who shall guide the 

way ? 
Can living eyes behold the realms below ? 
What bark to waft me, and what wind to 

blow ? " 
* " Thy fated road " (the magic Power 

replied), 
" Divine Ulysses! asks no mortal guide. 
Rear but the mast, the spacious sail dis- 
play, 600 
The northern winds shall wing thee on thy 

way. 
Soon shalt thou reach old Ocean's utmost 

ends. 
Where to the main the shelving shore de- 
scends : 
The barren trees of Proserpine's black 

woods. 
Poplars and willows trembling o'er the 

floods; 
There fix thy vessel in the lonely bay, 
And enter there the kingdoms void of day : 
Where Phlegethon's loud torrents, rushing 

down. 
Hiss in the flaming gulf of Acheron; 
And where, slow-rolling from the Stygian 

bed, 610 

Cocytus' lamentable waters spread: 
Where the dark rock o'erhangs th' infernal 

lake, 
And mingling streams eternal murmurs 

make. 
First draw thy faulchion, and on ev'ry 

side 
Trench the black earth a cubit long and 

wide: 



To all the shades around libations pour, 
And o'er th' ingredients strew the hallow'd 

flour: 
New wine and milk, with honey temper'd 

bring. 
And living water from the crystal spring. 
Then the wan shades and feeble ghosts 
implore, 620 

With promis'd off' rings on thy native 

shore: 
A barren cow, the stateliest of the isle, 
And, heap'd with various wealth, a blazing 

pile: 
These to the rest; but to the seer must 

bleed 
A sable ram, the pride of all thy breed. 
These solemn vows, and holy off'rings, 

paid 
To all the phantom nations of the dead. 
Be next thy care the sable sheep to place 
Full o'er the pit, and hellward turn their 

face ; 
But from th' infernal rite thine eye with- 
draw, 630 
And back to Ocean glance with rev'rent 

awe. 
Sudden shall skim along the dusky glades 
Thin airy shoals, and visionary shades. 
Then give command the sacrifice to haste. 
Let the flay'd victims in the flame be cast. 
And sacred vows and mystic song applied 
To grisly Pluto and his gloomy bride. 
Wide o'er the pool thy faulchion waved 

around 
Shall drive the spectres from forbidden 

ground: 
The sacred draught shall all the dead for- 
bear, 640 
Till awful from the shades arise the seer. 
Let him, oraculous, the end, the way, 
Tlie turns of all thy future fate display. 
Thy pilgrimage to come, and remnant of 
thy day." 

* So speaking, from the ruddy orient 
shone 
The Morn, conspicuous on her golden 

throne. 
The Goddess with a radiant tunic dress'd 
My limbs, and o'er me cast a silken vest. 
Long flowing robes, of purest white, ar- 
ray 649 
The Nymph, that added lustre to the day: 
A tiar wreath'd her head with many a 

fold; 
Her waist was circled with a zone of gold. 



578 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Forth issuing then, from place to place I 

flew; 
Rouse man by man, and animate my crew. 
" Rise, rise, my mates! 't is Circe gives com- 
mand: 
Our journey calls us: haste, and quit the 

land." 
All rise and follow, yet depart not all, 
For Fate decreed one wretched man to fall. 
'A youth there was, Elpenor was he 

named, 
Not much for sense, nor much for courage 

famed : 660 

The youngest of our band, a vulgar soul. 
Born but to banquet, and to drain the 

bowl. 
He, hot and careless, on a turret's height 
With sleep repair'd the long debauch of 

night : 
The sudden tumult stirr'd him where he 

And down he hasten'd, but forgot the way ; 
Full headlong from the roof the sleeper 

fell. 
And snapp'd the spinal joint, and waked in 

Hell. 

* The rest crowd round me with an eager 

look; 
I met them with a sigh, and thus be- 
spoke : 670 
"Already, friends! ye think your toils are 

o'er, 
Your hopes already touch your native shore: 
Alas! far otherwise the Nymph declares. 
Far other journey first demands our cares: 
To tread th' uncomfortable paths beneath. 
The dreary realms of darkness and of 

death ; 
To seek Tiresias' awful shade below, 
And thence our fortunes and our fates to 
know." 

* My sad companions heard in deep de- 

spair; 
Frantic they tore their manly growth of 

hair; 680 

To earth they fell; the tears began to rain; 
But tears in mortal miseries are vain. 
Sadly they fared along the sea-beat shore: 
Still heav'd their hearts, and still their eyes 

ran o'er. 
The ready victims at our bark we found, 
The sable ewe and ram, together bound. 
For, swift as thought, the Goddess had been 

there. 
And thence had glided viewless as the air: 



The paths of Gods what mortal can sur- 
vey ? 

Who eyes their motion ? who shall trace 
their way ? ' 690 



BOOK xni 

THE ARRIVAL OF ULYSSES IN ITHACA 
THE ARGUMENT 

Ulysses takes his leave of Alcinoiis and Aret6, 
and embarks in the evening. Next morning 
the ship arrives at Ithaca ; where the Bailors, 
as Ulysses is yet sleeping, lay him on the 
shore with all his treasures. On their re- 
turn, Neptune changes their ship into a rock. 
In the mean time, Ulysses awaking, knows 
not his native Ithaca, by reason of a mist 
which Pallas had cast round him. He breaks 
into loud lamentations ; till the Goddess ap- 
pearing to him in the form of a shepherd, 
discovers the country to him, and points out 
the particular places. He then tells a feigned 
story of his adventures, upon which she 
manifests herself, and they consult together 
on the measures to be taken to destroy the 
suitors. To conceal his return, and disguise 
his person the more effectually, she changes 
him into the figure of an old beggar. 

He ceas'd; but left so pleasing on their 
ear 

His voice, that list'ning still they seem'd 
to hear. 

A pause of silence hush'd the shady rooms: 

The grateful conf'rence then the King re- 
sumes: 
' Whatever toils the great Ulysses pass'd, 

Beneath this happy roof they end at last; 

No longer now from shore to shore to 
roam, 

Smooth seas and gentle winds invite him 
home. 

But hear me, Princes! whom these walls 
enclose. 

For whom my chanter sings, and goblet 
flows 10 

With wine unmix'd (an honour due to age, 

To cheer the grave, and warm the poet's 
rage), 

Tho' labour'd gold, and many a dazzling 
vest 

Lie heap'd already for our godlike guest: 

Without new treasures let him not re- 
move, 

Large, and expressive of the public love: 



THE ODYSSEY 



579 



Each Peer a tripod, each a vase bestow, 
Agen'ral tribute, which the state shall owe.' 
This sentence pleas'd: then all their steps 

address'd 
To sep'rate mansions, and retired to rest. 20 

Now did the Rosy-finger'd Morn arise, 
And shed her sacred light along the skies. 
Down to the haven and the ships in haste 
They bore the treasures, and in safety 

placed. 
The King himself the vases ranged with 

care ; 
Then bade his foll'wers to the feast repair. 
A victim ox beneath the sacred hand 
Of great Alcinolis falls, and stains the 

sand. 
To Jove th' Eternal (Power above all 

Powers! 
Who wings the winds, and darkens Heav'n 

with showers), 30 

The flames ascend: till ev'ning they pro- 
long 
The rites, more sacred made by heav'nly 

song: 
For in the midst with public honours 

graced, 
Thy lyre, divine Demodocus! was placed. 
All, but Ulysses, heard with fix'd delight: 
He sate, and eyed the sun, and wish'd the 

night: 
Slow seem'd the sun to move, the hours to 

roll. 
His native home deep-imaged in his soul. 
As the tired ploughman spent with stub- 
born toil. 
Whose oxen long have torn the furrow'd 

soil, 40 

Sees with delight the sun's declining ray. 
When home with feeble knees he bends his 

way 
To late repast (the day's hard labour 

done). 
So to Ulysses welcome set the sun ; 
Then instant to Alcinous and the rest 
(The Scherian states) he turn'd, and thus 

address'd. 
* O thou, the first in merit and com- 
mand ! 
And you the Peers and Princes of the land! 
May ev'ry joy be yours ! nor this the ^ 

least, 
When due libation shall have crown'd 

the feast, 50 

Safe to my home to send your happy 

guest. 



Complete are now the bounties you have 

giv'n. 
Be all those bounties but confirm'd by 

Heav'n ! 
So may I find, when all my wand'rings 

cease, 
My consort blameless, and my friends in 

peace. 
On you be ev'ry bliss; and ev'ry day. 
In home-felt joys, delighted roll away: 
Yourselves, your wives, your long-descend- 
ing race. 
May ev'ry God enrich with ev'ry grace ! 
Sure fix'd on virtue may your nation 

stand, 60 

And public evil never touch the land ! ' 
His words well weigh'd, the gen'ral 

voice approv'd 
Benign, and instant his dismission mov'd. 
The Monarch to Pontonous gave the sign, 
To fill the goblet high with rosy wine: 
' Great Jove the Father first ' (he cried) 

' implore; 
Then send the stranger to his native shore.' 
The luscious wine th' obedient herald 

brought; 
Around the mansion flow'd the purple 

draught; 
Each from his seat to each immortal 

pours, 70 

Whom glory circles in th' Olympian 

bowers. 
Ulysses sole with air majestic stands, 
The bowl presenting to Aret^'s hands; 
Then thus: 'O Queen, farewell! be still 

possess'd 
Of dear remembrance, blessing still and 

bless'd ! 
Till age and death' shall gently call thee 

hence 
(Sure fate of ev'ry mortal excellence). 
Farewell ! and joys successive ever spring 
To thee, to thine, the people and the 

King ! ' 
Thus he: then parting prints the sandy 

shore 80 

To the fair port: a herald march'd before. 
Sent by AlcinoUs; of Arete's train 
Three chosen maids attend him to the 

main: 
This does a tunic and white vest convey, 
A various casket that, of rich inlay, 
And bread and wine the third. The cheer- 
ful mates 
Safe in the hollow poop dispose the cates: 



58o 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Upon the deck soft painted robes they 

spread, 
With linen cover'd, for the hero's bed. 
He climb'd the lofty stern; then gently 

press'd 90 

The swelling couch, and lay composed to 

rest. 
Now placed in order, the Phseacian train 
Their cables loose, and launch into the 

main: 
At once they bend, and strike their equal 

oars, 
And leave the sinking hills and less'ning 

shores. 
While on the deck the Chief in silence 

lies, 
And pleasing slumbers steal upon his eyes. 
As fiery coursers in the rapid race 
Urged by fierce drivers thro' the dusty 

space. 
Toss their high heads, and scour along the 

plain; 100 

So mounts the bounding vessel o'er the 

main. 
Back to the stern the parted billows flow, 
And the black ocean foams and roars be- 
low. 
Thus with spread sails the winged galley 

flies; 
Less swift an eagle cuts the liquid skies; 
Divine Ulysses was her sacred load, 
A man in wisdom equal to a God ! 
Much danger, long and mighty toils he 

bore. 
In storms by sea, and combats on the 

shore : 
All which soft sleep now banish'd from his 

breast, no 

Wrapp'd in a pleasing, deep, and death- 
like rest. 
But when the morning-star with early 

ray 
Flamed in the front of Heav'n, and prom- 

is'd day, 
Like distant clouds the mariner descries 
Fair Ithaca's emerging hills arise. 
Far from the town a spacious port appears. 
Sacred to Phorcys' power, whose name it 

bears: 
Two craggy rocks, projecting to the main, 
The roaring wind's tempestuous rage re- 
strain ; 1 19 
Within, the waves in softer murmurs glide. 
And ships secure without their halsers 

ride. 



High at the head a branching olive grows, 

And crowns the pointed cliffs with shady 
boughs. 

Beneath, a gloomy grotto's cool recess 

Delights the Nereids of the neighb'ring 
seas. 

Where bowls and urns were form'd of liv- 
ing stone. 

And massy beams in native marble shone: 

On which the labours of the Nymphs were 
roll'd. 

Their webs divine of purple mix'd with 
gold. 

Within the cave the clust'ring bees at- 
tend 130 

Their waxen works, or from the roof de- 
pend. 

Perpetual waters o'er the pavement glide; 

Two marble doors unfold on either side; 

Sacred the south, by which the Gods de- 
scend; 

But mortals enter at the northern end. 
Thither they bent, and haul'd their ship 
to land 

(The crooked keel divides the yellow 
sand) ; 

Ulysses sleeping on his couch they bore, 

And gently placed him on the rocky shore. 

His treasures next, Alcinoiis' gifts, they 
laid 140 

In the wild olive's unfrequented shade. 

Secure from theft; then launch'd the laark 
again. 

Resumed their oars, and measured back 
the main. 
Nor yet forgot old Ocean's dread Su- 
preme 

The vengeance vow'd for eyeless Poly- 
pheme. 

Before the throne of mighty Jove he 
stood ; 

And sought the secret counsels of the God. 
' Shall then no more, O Sire of Gods ! be 
mine 

The rights and honours of a power divine ? 

Scorn'd ev'n by man, and (oh severe dis- 
grace !) 150 

By soft Phseacians, my degen'rate race ! 

Against yon destin'd head in vain I swore, 

And menaced vengeance, ere he reach'd 
his shore; 

To reach his natal shore was thy decree; 

Mild I obey'd, for who shall war with thee ? 

Behold him landed, careless and asleep. 

From all th' eluded dangers of the deep; 



THE ODYSSEY 



S8i 



Lo where he lies, amidst a shining store 
Of brass, rich garments, and refulgent 

ore; 
And bears triumphant to his native isle i6o 
A prize more worth than Ilion's noble 

spoil.' 
To whom the Father of th' immortal 

Powers, 
Who swells the clouds, and gladdens earth 

with showers: 

* Can mighty Neptune thus of man com- 

plain ? 

Neptune, tremendous o'er the boundless 
main ! 

Revered and awful ev'n in Heav'n's 
abodes, 

Ancient and great ! a God above the 
Gods ! 

If that low race offend thy power divine, 

(Weak, daring creatures !) is not ven- 
geance thine ? 169 

Go then, the guilty at thy will chastise.' 

He said. The Shaker of the Earth replies: 
* This then I doom : to fix the gallant 
ship 

A mark of vengeance on the sable deep; 

To warn the thoughtless self-confiding 
train. 

No more unlicens'd thus to brave the 
main. 

Full in their port a shady hill shall rise. 

If such thy will.' — * We will it,' Jove re- 
plies. 

* Ev'n when with transport, black'ning all 

the strand, 

The swarming people hail their ship to 
land, 

Fix her for ever, a memorial stone: 180 

Still let her seem to sail, and seem alone. 

The trembling crowds shall see the sud- 
den shade 

Of whelming mountains overhang their 
head ! ' 
With that the God whose earthquakes 
rock the ground 

Fierce to Phseacia cross'd the vast pro- 
found. 

Swift as a swallow sweeps the liquid way. 

The winged pinnace shot along the sea. 

The God arrests her with a sudden stroke, 

.A.nd roots her down an everlasting rock. 

Aghast the Scherians stand in deep sur- 
prise; 190 

All press to speak, all question with their 
eyes. 



* What hands unseen the rapid bark re- 

strain ? 
And yet it swims, or seems to swim, the 

main ! ' 
Thus they, unconscious of the deed divine: 
Till great Alcinoiis, rising, own'd the sign. 
' Behold the long-predestin'd day ! ' (he 

cries) ; 

* O certain faith of ancient prophecies ! 
These ears have heard my royal sire dis- 
close 

A dreadful story, big with future woes: 
How, mov'd with wrath, that careless we 

convey 200 

Promiscuous ev'ry guest to ev'ry bay, 
Stern Neptune raged; and how by his 

command 
Firm rooted in the surge a ship should 

stand 
(A monument of wrath); and mound on 

mound 
Should hide our walls, or whelm beneath 

the ground. 
* The Fates have follow'd as declared the 

seer: 
Be humbled, nations ! and your Monarch 

hear. 
No more unlicens'd brave the deeps, no 

more 
With ev'ry stranger pass from shore to 

shore : 
On angry Neptune now for mercy call; 210 
To his high name let twelve black oxen 

fall. 
So may the God reverse his purpos'd will. 
Nor o'er our city hang the dreadful hill.' 
The Monarch spoke: they trembled and 

obey'd. 
Forth on the sands the victim oxen led: 
The gather'd tribes before the altars stand. 
And Chiefs and rulers, a majestic band. 
The King of Ocean all the tribes implore; 
The blazing altars redden all the shore. 
Meanwhile Ulysses in his country lay, 
Releas'd from sleep, and round him 

might survey 221 

The solitary shore and rolling sea. 
Yet had his mind thro' tedious absence 

lost 
The dear resemblance of his native coast; 
Besides, Minerva, to secure her care 
Diffused around a veil of thicken'd air: 
For so the Gods ordain'd, to keep unseen 
His royal person from his friends and 

Queen: 



5S2 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Till the proud suitors for their crimes af- 
ford 229 

An ample vengeance to their injured lord. 
Now all the land another prospect bore, 

Another port appear'd, another shore. 

And long-continued ways, and winding 
floods. 

And unknown mountains, crown'd with un- 
known woods. 

Pensive and slow, with sudden grief op- 
press'd, 

The King arose, and beat his careful breast. 

Cast a long look o'er all the coast and main, 

And sought, around, his native realm in 
vain: 

Then with erected eyes stood fix'd in woe, 

And, as he spoke, the tears began to flow: 
* Ye Gods ' (he cried), * upon what barren 
coast, 241 

In what new region, is Ulysses toss'd ? 

Possess'd by wild barbarians, fierce in arms? 

Or men whose bosom tender pity warms ? 

Where shall this treasure now in safety 
lie? 

And whither, whither its sad owner fly ? 

Ah why did I Alcinoiis' grace implore ? 

Ah why forsake Phseacia's happy shore ? 

Some juster Prince perhaps had entertain'd. 

And safe restor'd me to my native land. 250 

Is this the promis'd, long-expected coast. 

And this the faith Ph?eacia's rulers boast ? 

O righteous Gods ! of all the great, how 
few 

Are just to Heav'n, and to their promise 
true ! 

But he, the Power to whose all-seeing eyes 

The deeds of men appear without disguise, 

'T is his alone t' avenge the wrongs I bear: 

For still th' oppress'd are his peculiar care. 

To count these presents, and from thence 
to prove 

Their faith, is mine: the rest belongs to 
Jove.' 260 

Then on the sands he ranged his wealthy 
store. 

The gold, the vests, the tripods number'd 
o'er: 

All these he found; but still, in error lost, 

Disconsolate he wanders on the coast. 

Sighs for his country, and laments again 

To the deaf rocks, and hoarse resounding 
main. 

When lo ! the guardian Goddess of the 
Wise, 

Celestial Pallas, stood before his eyes; 



In show a youthful swain, of form divine, 
Who seem'd descended from some princely 
line. 270 

A graceful robe her slender body dress'd ; 
Around her shoulders flew the waving vest; 
Her decent hand a shining jav'lin bore. 
And painted sandals on her feet she wore. 
To whom the King: ' Whoe'er of human 

race 
Thou art, that wander'st in this desert 

place. 
With joy to thee, as to some God, I bend. 
To thee my treasures and myself commend. 
O tell a wretch in exile doom'd to stray, 
What air I breathe, what country I sur- 
vey ? 280 
The fruitful continent's extreraest bound. 
Or some fair isle which Neptune's arms 
surround ? ' 
* From what far clime ' (said she), * re- 
mote from Fame, 
Arrivest thou here, a stranger to our name ? 
Thou seest an island, not to those unknown 
Whose hills are brighten'd by the rising sun. 
Nor those that placed beneath his utmost 

reign 
Behold him sinking in the western main. 
The rugged soil allows no level space 
For flying chariots, or the rapid race; 290 
Yet, not ungrateful to the peasant's pain. 
Suffices fulness to the swelling grain: 
The loaded trees their various fruits pro- 
duce. 
And clust'ring grapes afford a gen'rous 

juice; 
Woods crown our mountains, and in ev'ry 

grove 
The bounding goats and frisking heifers 

rove: 
Soft rains and kindly dews refresh the field, 
And rising springs eternal verdure yield: 
Ev'n to those shores is Ithaca renown'd, 
Where Troy's majestic ruins strew the 
ground.' 300 

At this, the Chief with transport was 
possess'd; 
His panting heart exulted in his breast: 
Yet, well dissembling his untimely joys, 
And veiling truth in plausible disguise, 
Thus, with an air sincere, in fiction bold, 
His ready tale th' inventive hero told: 
' Oft have I heard in Crete this island's 
name; 
For 'twas from Crete, my native soil, I 
came, 



THE ODYSSEY 



583 



Self-banish'd thence. I sail'd before tlie 

wind, 
And left my children and my friends be- 
hind. 310 
From fierce Idomeneus' revenge I flew, 
Whose son, the swift Orsilochus, I slew 
(With brutal force he seiz'd my Trojan 

prey, 
Due to the toils of many a bloody day). 
Unseen I 'scaped, and, favour'd by the 

night, 
In a Phoenician vessel took my flight, 
For Pyle or Elis bound: but tempests 

toss'd 
And raging billows drove us on your coast. 
In dead of night an unknown port we 

gain'd, 
Spent with fatigue, and slept secure on 

land. 320 

But ere the rosy morn renew'd the day. 
While in th' embrace of pleasing sleep I 

lay, 
Sudden, invited by auspicious gales. 
They land my goods, and hoist their flying 

sails. 
Abandon'd here, my fortune I deplore, 
A hapless exile on a foreign shore.' 

Thus while he spoke, the Blue-eyed Maid 

began 
With pleasing smiles to view the godlike 

man : 
Then changed her form: and now, divinely 

bright, 
Jove's heav'nly daughter stood confess'd to 

sight : 330 

Like a fair virgin in her beauty's bloom, 
Skill'd in th' illustrious labours of the 

loom. 
* O still the same Ulysses ! ' (she re- 

join'd) 
* In useful craft successfully refin'd ! 
Artful in speech, in action, and in mind ! 
Sufficed it not, that, thy long labours pass'd, 
Secure thou seest thy native shores at last? 
But this to me ? who, like thyself, excel 
In arts of counsel, and dissembling well; 
To me ? whose wit exceeds the Powers di- 
vine, ^ 340 
No less than mortals are surpass'd by thine. 
Know'st thou not me ? who made thy life 

my care, 
Thro' ten years' wand'ring, and thro' ten 

years' war, 
Who taught thee arts, Alcinoiis to per- 
suade, 



To raise his wonder, and engage his aid; 

And now appear, thy treasures to protect, " 

Conceal thy person, thy designs direct, 

And tell what more thou must from Fate 
expect; 

Domestic woes far heavier to be borne ! 

The pride of fools, and slaves' insulting 
scorn ! 350 

But thou be silent, nor reveal thy state; 

Yield to the force of unresisted Fate, 

And bear unmov'd the wrongs of base man- 
kind, 

The last, and hardest, conquest of the 
mind.' 
' Goddess of Wisdom ! ' (Ithacus re- 
plies) 

' He who discerns thee must be truly wise. 

So seldom view'd, and ever in disguise ! 

When the bold Argives led their warring 
powers 

Against proud Ilion's well-defended tow- 
ers, 

Ulysses was thy care, celestial Maid ! 360 

Graced with thy sight, and favour'd with 
thy aid. 

But when the Trojan piles in ashes lay. 

And bound for Greece we plough'd the 
wat'ry way, 

Our fleet dispers'd and driven from coast 
to coast. 

Thy sacred presence from that hour I 
lost; 

Till I beheld thy radiant form once more, 

And heard thy counsels on Pliseacia's 
shore. 

But, by th' Almighty Author of thy race, 

Tell me, oh tell, is this my native place ? 

For much I fear, long tracts of land and 
sea 370 

Divide this coast from distant Ithaca; 

The sweet delusion kindly you impose. 

To soothe my hopes, and mitigate my 
woes.' 
Thus he. The Blue-eyed Goddess thus 
replies : 

* How prone to doubt, how cautious are the 
wise ! 

Who, vers'd in fortune, fear the flatt'ring 
show, 

And taste not half the bliss the Gods be- 
stow. 

The more shall Pallas aid thy just de- 
sires, 

And guard the wisdom which herself in- 
spires. 



584 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Others, long absent from their native "" 

place, 380 

Straight seek their home, and fly with 

eager pace 
To their wives' arms, and children's dear 

embrace. 

Not thus Ulysses : he decrees to prove 
His subjects' faith, and Queen's suspected 

love; 
Who mourn'd her lord twice ten revolving 

years, 
And wastes the days in grief, the nights in 

tears. 
But Pallas knew (thy friends and navy 

lost) 
Once more 't was given thee to behold thy 

coast : 
Yet how could I with adverse Fate engage. 
And mighty Neptune's unrelenting rage? 390 
Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore 
The pleasing prospect of thy native shore. 
Behold the port of Phorcys! fenc'd around 
With rocky mountains, and with olives 

crown'd. 
Behold the gloomy grot ! whose cool re- 
cess 
Delights the Nereids of the neighb'ring 

seas : 
Whose now neglected altars, in thy reign, 
Blush'd with the blood of sheep and oxen 

slain. 
Behold ! where Neritus the clouds divides, 
And shakes the waving forests on his 

sides.' 400 

So spake the Goddess, and the prospect 

clear'd ; 
The mists dispers'd, and all the coast ap- 

pear'd. 
The King with joy confess'd his place of 

birth. 
And on his knees salutes his Mother Earth: 
Then, with his suppliant hands upheld in 

air. 
Thus to the sea-green Sisters sends his 

prayer : 
* All hail ! ye virgin Daughters of the 

Main ! 
Ye streams, beyond my hopes beheld again I 
To you once more your own Ulysses bows; 
Attend his transports, and receive his 

vows ! 410 

If Jove prolong my days, and Pallas crown 
The growing virtues of my youthful son. 
To you shall rites divine be ever paid. 
And grateful off'rings on your altars laid.' 



Thus then Minerva : * From that anxious 

breast 
Dismiss those cares, and leave to Heav'n 

the rest. 
Our task be now thy treasured stores to 

save. 
Deep in the close recesses of the cave : 
Then future means consult.' She spoke, 

and trod 
The shady grot, that brighten'd with the 

God. 420 

The closest caverns of the grot she sought ; 
The gold, the brass, the robes, Ulysses 

brought; 
These in the secret gloom the Chief disposed ; 
The entrance with a rock the Goddess 

closed. 
Now, seated in the olive's sacred shade, 
Confer the Hero and the Martial Maid. 
The Goddess of the Azure Eyes began : 
'Son of Laertes! much-experienc'd man! 
The suitor-train thy earliest care demand. 
Of that luxurious race to rid the land: 430 
Three years thy house their lawless rule has 

seen. 
And proud addresses to the matchless 

Queen. 
But she thy absence mourns from day to 

day, 
And inly bleeds, and silent wastes away : 
Elusive of the bridal hour, she gives 
Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes de- 
ceives.' 
To this Ulysses : ' celestial Maid ! 
Prais'd be thy counsel, and thy timely 

aid: 
Else had I seen my native walls in vain, . 
Like great Atrides, just restor'd and slain. 
Vouchsafe the means of vengeance to de- 
bate, 441 
And plan with all thy arts the scene of 

fate. 
Then, then be present, and my soul inspire. 
As when we wrapp'd Troy's Heav'n-built 

walls in fire. 
Though leagued against me hundred heroes 

stand. 
Hundreds shall fall, if Pallas aid my hand.' 
She answer'd : ' In the dreadful day of 

fight 
Know I am with thee, strong in all my 

might. 
If thou but equal to thyself be found. 
What gasping numbers then shall press the 

ground I 450 



THE ODYSSEY 



58s 



What human \ictims stain the feastful 

floor ! 
How wide the pavements float with guilty 

gore ! 
It fits thee now to wear a dark disguise, 
And secret walk unknown to mortal eyes. 
For this, my hand shall wither ev'ry grace, 
And ev'ry elegance of form and face; 
O'er thy smooth skin a bark of wrinkles 

spread, 
Turn hoar the auburn honours of thy head; 
Disfigure every limb with coarse attire. 
And in thy eyes extinguish all the fire; 460 
Add all the wants and the decays of life; 
Estrange thee from thy own; thy son, thy 

wife : 
From the loathed object ev'ry eye shall 

turn. 
And the blind suitors their destruction 

scorn. 
* Go first the master of thy herds to find. 
True to his charge, a loyal swain and kind: 
For thee he sighs; and to the royal heir 
And chaste Penelope extends his care. 
At the Coracian rock he now resides. 
Where Arethusa's sable water glides; 470 
The sable water and the copious mast 
Swell the fat herd ; luxuriant, large re- 
past! 
With him rest peaceful in the rural cell. 
And all you ask his faithful tongue shall 

tell. 
Me into other realms my cares convey, 
To Sparta, still with female beauty gay: 
For know, to Sparta thy lov'd offspring 

came. 
To learn thy fortunes from the voice of 

Fame.' 
At this the father, with a father's care : ^ 
* Must he too suffer ? he, O Goddess! bear I 
Of wand'rings and of woes a wretched [ 

share ? 481 J 

Thro' the wild ocean plough the dangerous 

way, 
And leave his fortunes and his house a 

prey ? 
Why would'st not thou, O all-enlighten'd 

Mind! 
Inform him certain, and protect him, 

kind ? ' 
To whom Minerva: * Be thy soul at rest: 
And know, whatever Heav'n ordains is 

best. 
To fame I sent him, to acquire renown ; 
To other regions is his virtue known: 



Secure he sits, near great Atrides placed: 490 
With friendships strengthen'd, and with 

honours graced. 
But lo! an ambush waits his passage o'er; 
Fierce foes insidious intercept the shore: 
In vain; far sooner all the murd'rous brood 
This injured land shall fatten with their 

blood.' 
She spake, then touch'd him with her 

powerful wand: 
The skin shrunk up, and wither'd at her 

hand: 
A swift old age o'er all his members 

spread; 
A sudden frost was sprinkled on his head ; 
Nor longer in the heavy eye-ball shined 500 
The glance divine, forth-beaming from the 

mind. 
His robe, which spots indelible besmear. 
In rags dishonest flutters with the air: 
A stag's torn hide is lapp'd around his 

reins; 
A rugged staff his trembling hand sustains; 
And at his side a wretched scrip was hung, 
Wide-patch'd, and knotted to a twisted 

thong. 
So look'd the chief, so mov'd; to mortal 

eyes 
Object uncouth! a man of miseries! 
While Pallas, cleaving the wide fields of 

air, 510 

To Sparta flies, Telemachus her care. 

BOOK XIV 

THE CONVERSATION WITH EUM^US 
THE ARGUMENT 

Ulysses arrives in disg'uise at the house of 
Eumseus, where he is received, entertained, 
and lodg-ed with the utmost hospitality. The 
several discourses of that faithful old servant, 
with the feigned story told bj' Ulysses to 
conceal himself, and other conversations on 
various subjects, take up this entire book. 

But he, deep-musing, o'er the mountains 

stray'd 
Thro' mazy thickets of the woodland 

shade, 
And cavern'd ways, the shaggy coast 

along, 
With cliffs and nodding forests overhung. 
Eumseus at his sylvan lodge he sought, 
A faithful servant, and without a fault. 



586 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Ulysses found him busied, as he sate 
Before the threshold of his rustic gate: 
Around, the mansion in a circle shone, 
A rural portico of rugged stone lo 

(In absence of his lord, with honest toil 
His own industrious hands had rais'd the 

pile) ; 
The wall was stone from neighb'ring quar- 
ries borne, 
Encircled with a fence of native thorn, 
And strong with pales, by many a weary 

stroke 
Of stubborn labour hewn from heart of 

oak; 
Frequent and thick. Within the space 

were rear'd 
Twelve ample cells, the lodgments of his 

herd. 
Full fifty pregnant females each contain'd: 
The males without (a smaller race) re- 

main'd ; 20 

Doom'd to supply the suitors' wasteful 

feast, 
A stock by daily luxury decreas'd; 
Now scarce four hundred left. These to 

defend. 
Four savage dogs, a watchful guard, attend. 
Here sat Eumseus, and his cares applied 
To form strong buskins of well-season'd 

hide. 
Of four assistants who his labour share. 
Three now were absent on the rural care: 
The fourth drove victims to the suitor 

train : 
But he, of ancient faith, a simple swain, 30 
Sigh'd, while he furnish'd the luxurious 

board. 
And wearied Heav'n with wishes for his 

lord. 
Soon as Ulysses near th' inclosure drew, 
With open mouths the furious mastiffs 

flew: 
Down sate the sage, and, cautious to with- 
stand, 
Let fall th' offensive truncheon from his 

hand. 
Sudden, the master runs: aloud he calls; 
And from his hasty hand the leather falls; 
With showers of stones he drives them far 

away; 
The scatt'ring dogs around at distance 

bay. 40 

' Unhappy stranger ' (thus the faithful 

swain 
Began with accent gracious and humane), 



•What sorrow had been mine, if at my 

gate 
Thy rev'rend age had met a shameful 

fate! 
Enough of woes already have I known: 
Enough my master's sorrows and my own. 
While here (ungrateful task!) his herds I 

feed, 
Ordain'd for lawless rioters to bleed ! 
Perhaps, supported at another's board. 
Far from his country roams my hapless 

lord ! so 

Or sigh'd in exile forth his latest breath, 
Now cover'd with th' eternal shade of 

death ! 
' But enter this my homely roof, and see 
Our woods not void of hospitality. 
Then tell me whence thou art, and what the 

share 
Of woes and wand'rings thou wert born to 

bear.' 
He said, and, seconding the kind re- 
quest, 
With friendly step precedes his unknown 

guest. 
A shaggy goat's soft hide beneath him 

spread. 
And with fresh rushes heap'd an ample 

bed : 60 

Joy touch'd the Hero's tender soul, to find 
So just reception from a heart so kind; 
And * Oh, ye Gods! with all your blessings 

grace ' 
(He thus broke forth) ' this friend of hu- 
man race!' 
The swain replied: 'It never was our 

guise 
To slight the poor, or aught humane de- 
spise: 
For Jove unfolds our hospitable door, 
'Tis Jove that sends the stranger and the 

poor. 
Little, alas! is all the good I can; 
A man oppress'd, dependent, yet a man: 70 
Accept such treatment as a swain affords, 
Slave to the insolence of youthful lords! 
Far hence is by unequal Gods remov'd 
That man of bounties, loving and belov'd! 
To whom whate'er his slave enjoys is ow'd, 
And more, had Fate allow'd, had been be- 

stow'd. 
But Fate comdemn'd him to a foreign 

shore ; 
Much have I sorrow'd, but my master 

more. 



THE ODYSSEY 



587 



Now cold he lies, to Death's embrace re- 

sign'd: 
Ah, perish Helen! perish all her kind! 80 
For whose curs'd cause, in Agamemnon's 

name, 
He trod so fatally the paths of Fame.' 
His vest succinct then girding round his 

waist. 
Forth rush'd the swain with hospitable 

haste; 
Straight to the lodgments of his herd he 

run. 
Where the fat porkers slept beneath the 

sun; 
Of two, his cutlass launch'd the spouting 

blood; 
These, quarter'd, singed, and fix'd on forks 

of wood. 
All hasty on the hissing coals he threw; 
And, smoking, back the tasteful viands 

drew, 90 

Broachers and all; then on the board dis- 

play'd 
The ready meal, before Ulysses laid 
With flour imbrown'd; next mingled wine 

yet new. 
And luscious as the bees' nectareous dew: 
Then sate, companion of the friendly feast. 
With open look; and thus bespoke his 

guest: 
* Take with free welcome what our hands 

prepare. 
Such food as falls to simple servants' 

share ; 
The best our lords consume; those thought- 
less peers, 99 
Rich without bounty, guilty without fears. 
Yet sure the Gods their impious acts de- 
test. 
And honour justice and the righteous 

breast. 
Pirates and conquerors of harden'd mind. 
The foes of peace, and scourges of man- 
kind, 
To whom ofiPending men are made a prey 
When Jove in vengeance gives a land 

away; 
Ev'n these, when of their ill-got spoils pos- 

sess'd. 
Find sure tormentors in the guilty breast: 
Some voice of God close whisp'ring from 

within, 109 

" Wretch! this is villany, and this is sin." 
But these, no doubt, some oracle explore, 
That tells, the great Ulysses is no more. 



Hence springs their confidence, and from 

our sighs 
Their rapine strengthens, and their riots 

rise: 
Constant as Jove the night and day be- 
stows. 
Bleeds a whole hecatomb, a vintage flows. 
None match'd this hero's wealth, of all who 

reign 
O'er the fair islands of the neighb'ring 

main. 
Nor all the Monarchs whose far-dreaded 

sway 
The wide-extended continents obey: 120 

First, on the mainland, of Ulysses' breed 
Twelve herds, twelve flocks, on ocean's 

margin feed; 
As many stalls for shaggy goats are rear'd ; 
As many lodgments for the tusky herd; 
Those, foreign keepers guard : and here are 

seen 
Twelve herds of goats that graze our ut- 
most green; 
To native pastors is their charge assign'd, 
And mine the care to feed the bristly kind: 
Each day the fattest bleeds of either herd. 
All to the suitors' wasteful board pre- 

ferr'd.' 130 

Thus he, benevolent: his unknown guest 
With hunger keen devours the sav'ry 

feast; 
While schemes of vengeance ripen in his 

breast. 
Silent and thoughtful while the board he 

eyed, 
Eumaeus pours on high the purple tide; 
The King with smiling looks his joy ex- 

press'd, 
And thus the kind inviting host address'd: 
* Say, now, what man is he, the man de- 

plor'd, 
So rich, so potent, whom you style your 

lord? 
Late with such affluence and possessions 

bless' d, 140 

And now in honour's glorious bed at rest. 
Whoever was the warrior, he must be 
To Fame no stranger, nor perhaps to me; 
Who (so the Gods and so the Fates or- 

dain'd) 
Have wander'd many a sea and many a 

land.' 
' Small is the faith the Prince and Queen 

ascribe ' 
(Replied Eumaeus) ' to the wand'ring tribe. 



588 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



For needy strangers still to flatt'ry fly, 
And want too oft betrays the tongue to 

lie. 149 

Each vagrant traveller, that touches here. 
Deludes with fallacies the royal ear, 
To dear remembrance makes his image 

rise. 
And calls the springing sorrows from her 

eyes. 
Such thou may'st be. But he whose name 

you crave 
Moulders in earth, or welters on the wave, 
Or food for fish or dogs his relics lie. 
Or torn by birds are scatter'd thro' the 

sky. 
So perish'd he: and left (for ever lost) 
Much woe to all, but sure to me the most. 
So mild a master never shall I find; 160"] 
Less dear the parents whom I left behind, V 
Less soft my mother, less my father kind. J 
Not with such transport would my eyes run 

o'er. 
Again to hail them in their native shore, 
As lov'd Ulj'sses once more to embrace, 
Restor'd and breathing in his natal place. 
That name for ever dread, yet ever dear, 
Ev'n in his absence 1 pronounce with 

fear: 
In my respect, he bears a Prince's part; 
But lives a very brother in my heart.' 170 
Thus spoke the faithful swain, and thus 

rejoin 'd 
The master of his grief, the man of patient 

mind : 
* Ulysses' friend shall view his old abodes 
(Distrustful as thou art), nor doubt the 

Gods. 
Nor speak I rashly, but with faith averr'd. 
And what I speak attesting Heav'n has 

heard. 
If so, a cloak and vesture be my meed; 
Till his return, no title shall I plead, 
Tho' certain be my news, and great my 

need; 
Whom want itself can force untruths to 

tell, 180 

My soul detests him as the gates of Hell. 

' Thou first be witness, hospitable Jove ! 
And ev'ry God inspiring social love ! 
And witness ev'ry household Power that 

waits, 
Guard of these fires, and angel of these 

gates ! 
Ere the next moon increase, or this decay. 
His ancient realms Ulysses shall survey, 



In blood and dust each proud oppressor 
mourn, 

And the lost glories of his house return.* 
* Nor shall that meed be thine, nor ever- 
more 190 

Shall lov'd Ulysses hail this happy shore * 

(Replied Eumffius) : * to the present hour 

Now turn thy thought, and joys within our 
power. 

From sad reflection let my soul repose; 

The name of him awakes a thousand 
woes. 

But guard him, Gods ! and to these arms 
restore ! 

Not his true consort can desire him more; 

Not old Laertes, broken with despair; 

Not young Telemachus, his blooming heir. 

Alas, Telemachus ! my sorrows flow 200 

Afresh for thee, my second cause of woe ! 

Like some fair plant set by a heav'nly 
hand. 

He grew, he flourish'd, and he bless'd the 
land ; 

In all the youth his father's image shined. 

Bright in his person, brighter in his mind. 

What man, or God, deceiv'd his better 
sense. 

Far on the swelling seas to wander hence ? 

To distant Pylos hapless is he gone. 

To seek his father's fate, and find his 
own ! 

For traitors wait his way, with dire de- 
sign 210 

To end at once the great Arcesian line. 

But let us leave him to their wills above; 

The fates of men are in the hand of Jove. 

And now, my venerable Guest ! declare 

Your name, your parents, and your native 
air: 

Sincere from whence begun your course re- 
late. 

And to what ship I owe the friendly 
freight ? ' 
Thus he: and thus (with prompt inven- 
tion bold) 

The cautious Chief his ready story told: 
' On dark reserve what better can pre- 
vail, 220 

Or from the fluent tongue produce the 
tale, 

Than when two friends, alone, in peace-" 
ful place 

Confer, and wines and cates the table >■ 
grace; 

But most, the kind inviter's cheerful face?_j 



THE ODYSSEY 



589 



Thus might we sit, with social goblets 

crowu'd, 
Till the whole circle of the year goes 

round ; 
Not the whole circle of the year would 

close 
My long narration of a life of woes. 
But such was Heav'n's high will ! Know 

then, I came 
From sacred Crete, and from a sire of 
fame: 230 

Castor Hylacides (that name he bore), 1 
Belov'd and honour'd in his native shore; > 
Bless'd in his riches, in his children more, j 
Sprung of a handmaid, from a bought em- 
brace, 
I shared his kindness with his lawful race: 
But when that Fate, which all must un- 
dergo, 
From earth remov'd him to the shades 

below. 
The large domain his greedy sons divide, 
And each was portion'd as the lots decide. 
Little, alas ! was left my wretched 
share, 240 

Except a house, a covert from the air: 
But what by niggard Fortune was denied, 
A willing widow's copious wealth supplied. 
My valour was my plea, a gallant mind 1 
That, true to honour, never lagg'd behind >- 
(The sex is ever to a soldier kind). j 

Now wasting years my former strength 

confound. 
And added woes have bow'd me to the 

ground ; 
Yet by the stubble you may guess the 

grain, 
And mark the ruins of no vulgar man. 250 
Me Pallas gave to lead the martial storm, 
And the fair ranks of battle to deform ; 
Me Mars inspired to turn the foe to 

flight. 
And tempt the secret ambush of the 

night. 
Let ghastly Death in all his forms ap- 
pear, 
I saw him not, it was not mine to fear. 
Before the rest I rais'd my ready steel; 
The first I met, he yielded, or he fell. 
But works of peace my soul disdain'd to 

bear, 
The rural labour, or domestic care. 260 

To raise the mast, the missile dart to wing. 
And send swift arrows from the bounding 
string, 



Were arts the Gods made grateful to my 

mind; 
Those Gods, who turn (to various ends 

design'd) "* 

The various thoughts and talents of man- 
kind. 
Before the Grecians touch' d the Trojan 

plain. 
Nine times commander or by land or main. 
In foreign fields I spread my glory far. 
Great in the praise, rich in the spoils of 

war: 
Thence, charged with riches, as increas'd 

in fame, 270 

To Crete return'd, an honourable name. 
But when great Jove that direful war de- 
creed. 
Which rous'd all Greece, and made the 

mighty bleed; 
Our states myself and Idomen employ 
To lead their fleets, and carry death to Troy. 
Nine years we warr'd; the tenth saw Ilion 

fall; 
Homeward we sail'd, but Heav'n dispers'd 

us all. 
One only month my wife enjoy'd my stay; 
So will'd the God who gives and takes 

away. 
Nine ships I mann'd, equipp'd with ready 

stores, 280 

Intent to voyage to th' -Egyptian shores; 
In feast and sacrifice my chosen train 
Six days consumed; the sev'nth we ploughed 

the main. 
Crete's ample fields diminish to our ej'e; 
Before the Boreal blast the vessels fly; 
Safe thro' the level seas we sweep our 

way; 
The steersman governs, and the ships obey. 
The fifth fair morn we stem th' Egyptian 

tide. 
And tilting o'er the bay the vessels ride: 
To anchor there my fellows I command, 290 
And spies commission to explore the land. 
But, sway'd by lust of gain, and headlong 

will. 
The coasts they ravage, and the natives 

kill. 
The spreading clamour to their city flies. 
And horse and foot in mingled tumult 

rise. 
The redd'ning dawn reveals the circling 

fields. 
Horrid with bristly spears, and glancing 

shields. 



590 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Jove thunder'd on their side. Our guilty "^ 

head 
We turn'd to flight; the gath'ring ven- 
geance spread 
On all parts round, and heaps on heaps 

lie dead. 300 _ 

I then explor'd my thought, what course to 

prove 
(And sure the thought was dictated by 

Jove) ; 
Oh, had he left me to that happier doom, 
And saved a life of miseries to come ! 
The radiant helmet from my brows un- 
laced. 
And low on earth my shield and jav'lin 

cast, 
I meet the Monarch with a suppliant's 

face, 
Approach his chariot, and his knees em- 
brace. 
He heard, he saved, he placed me at his 

side; 
My state he pitied, and my tears he 

dried, 310 

Restrain'd the rage the vengeful foe ex- 

press'd, 
And turn'd the deadly weapons from my 

breast. 
Pious ! to guard the hospitable rite, 
And fearing Jove, whom mercy's works de- 

light. 
* In JEgypt thus with peace and plenty 

bless'd, 
I liv'd (and happy still had liv'd) a guest. 
On sev'n bright years successive blessings 

wait; 
The next changed all the colour of my fate. 
A false Phoenician, of insidious mind, 319 
Vers'd in vile arts, and foe to humankind, 
With semblance fair invites me to his 

home. 
I seiz'd the proffer (ever fond to roam): 
Domestic in his faithless roof I stay'd. 
Till the swift sun his annual circle made. 
To Libya then he meditates the way; 
With guileful art a stranger to betray. 
And sell to bondage in a foreign land: 
Much doubting, yet compell'd, I quit the 

strand. 
Thro' the. mid seas the nimble pinnace 

sails. 
Aloof from Crete, before the northern 

gales: 330 

But when remote her chalky cliffs we lost, 
And far from ken of any other coast, 



When all was wild expanse of sea and air, 
Then doom'd high Jove due vengeance to 

prepare. 
He hung a night of horrors o'er their head 
(The shaded ocean blacken'd as it spread) ; 
He launch'd the fiery bolt; from pole to 

pole 
Broad burst the lightnings, deep the thun- 
ders roll; 
In giddy rounds the whirling ship is toss'd. 
And all in clouds of smoth'ring sulphur 

lost. 340 

As from a hanging rock's tremendous 

height. 
The sable crows with intercepted flight 
Drop endlong; scarr'd and black with sul- 
phurous hiae, 
So from the deck are hurl'd the ghastly 

crew. 
Such end the wicked found ! but Jove's 

intent 
Was yet to save th' oppress'd and innocent. 
Placed on the mast (the last resource of 

life). 
With winds and waves I held unequal 

strife; 
For nine long days the billows tilting o'er. 
The tenth soft wafts me to Thesprotia's 

shore. 350 

The Monarch's son a shipwreck'd wretch 

reliev'd. 
The Sire with hospitable rites receiv'd, 
And in his palace like a brother placed. 
With gifts of price and gorgeous garments 

graced. 
While here I sojourn'd, oft I heard the 

fame 
How late Ulysses to the country came, 
How lov'd, how honour'd, in this court he 

stay'd. 
And here his whole collected treasure 

laid ; 
I saw myself the vast unnumber'd store 
Of steel elab'rate, and refulgent ore, 360 
And brass high heap'd amidst the regal 

dome; 
Immense supplies for ages yet to come ! 
Meantime he voyaged to explore the will 
Of Jove, on high Dodona's holy hill. 
What means might best his safe return 

avail. 
To come in pomp, or bear a secret sail ? 
Full oft has Phidon, whilst he pour'd the 

wine, 
Attesting solemn all the Powers divine, 



THE ODYSSEY 



591 



That soon Ulysses would return, declared, 
The sailors waiting, and the ships pre- 
pared. 370 
But first the King dismiss'd me from his 

shores, 
For fair Duliehium crown'd with fruitful 

stores; 
To good Aeastus' friendly care consign'd: 
But other counsels pleas'd the sailors' mind: 
New frauds were plotted by the faithless 

train. 
And misery demands me once again. 
Soon as remote from shore they plough the 

wave. 
With ready hands they rush to seize their 

slave; 
Then \yith these tatter'd rags they wrapp'd 

me round 
(Stripp'd of my own), and to the vessel 

bound. 380 

At eve, at Ithaca's delightful land 
The ship arrived: forth issuing on the sand. 
They sought repast: while, to th' unhappy 

kind, 
The pitying Gods themselves my chains un- 
bind. 
Soft I descended, to the sea applied 
My naked breast, and shot along the tide. 
Soon pass'd beyond their sight, I left the 

flood. 
And took the spreading shelter of the wood. 
Their prize escaped the faithless pirates 

mourn'd; 
But deem'd inquiry vain, and to their ships 

return'd. sgo 

Screen'd by protecting Gods from hostile 

eyes. 
They led me to a good man and a wise. 
To live beneath thy hospitable care. 
And wait the woes Heav'n dooms me yet 

to bear.' 
' Unhappy Guest ! whose sorrows touch 

my mind ' 
(Thus good Eumaeus with a sigh rejoin'd), 
* For real suff'rings since I grieve sincere. 
Check not with fallacies the springing tear: 
Nor turn the passion into groundless joy 
For him whom Heav'n has destin'd to de- 
stroy. 400 
Oh ! had he perish'd on some well-fought 

day, 
Or in his friends' embraces died away ! 
That grateful Greece with streaming eyes 

might raise 
Historic marbles to record his praise; 



His praise, eternal on the faithful stone. 
Had with transmissive honours graced his 

son. 
Now, snatch'd by Harpies to the dreary 

coast. 
Sunk is the hero, and his glory lost 1 
While pensive in this solitary den, 409 

Far from gay cities and the ways of men, 
I linger life; nor to the Court repair, 
But when my constant Queen commands 

my care; 
Or when, to taste her hospitable board, 
Some guest arrives, with rumours of her 

lord; 
And these indulge their want, and those 

their woe. 
And here the tears, and there the goblets 

flow. 
By many such have I been warn'd; but 

chief 
By one ^tolian robb'd of all belief. 
Whose hap it was to this our roof to roam. 
For murder banish'd from his native home. 
He swore, Ulysses on the coast of Crete 421 
Stay'd but a season to refit his fleet; 
A few revolving months should waft him 

o'er. 
Fraught with bold warriors, and a bound- 
less storCo 
O thou ! whom age has taught to under- 
stand, 
And Heav'n has guided with a fav'ring 

hand ! 
On God or mortal to obtrude a lie 
Forbear, and dread to flatter, as to die. 
Not for such ends my house and heart are 

free. 
But dear respect to Jove, and charity.' 430 
* And why, O swain of unbelieving mind ! ' 
(Thus quick replied the wisest of man- 
kind), 
' Doubt you my oath ? yet more my faith " 

to try, 
A solemn compact let us ratify, 
And witness ev'ry Power that rules the 

sky ! 

If here Ulysses from his labours rest, 
Be then my prize a tunic and a vest; 
And, where my hopes invite me, straight 

transport 
In safety to Dalichium's friendly court. 
But if he greets not thy desiring eye, 440^ 
Hurl me from yon dread precipice on 

high; 
The due reward of fraud and perjury.' 



592 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



* Doubtless, O Guest ! great laud and 

praise were mine ' 
(Replied the swain), ' for spotless faith 

divine, 
If, after social rites and gifts bestow'd, 
I stain'd my hospitable hearth with blood. 
How would the Gods my righteous toils 

succeed, 
And bless the hand that made a stranger 

bleed ? 
No more — th' approaching hours of silent 

night 
First claim refection, then to rest invite; 450 
Beneath our humble cottage let us haste, 
And here, unenvied, rural dainties taste.' 
Thus communed these; while to their 

lowly dome 
The full-fed swine return'd with ev'ning 

home : 
CompeU'd, reluctant, to their sev'ral sties. 
With din obstrep'rous, and ungrateful cries. 
Then to the slaves: 'Now from the herd 

the best 
Select, in honour of our foreign guest: 
With him let us the genial banquet share. 
For great and many are the griefs we bear; 
While those who from our labours heap 

their board 461 

Blaspheme their feeder, and forget their 

lord.' 
Thus speaking, with despatchful hand 

he took 
A weighty axe, and cleft the solid oak; 
This on the earth he piled; a boar full fed. 
Of five years' age, before the pile was led: 
The swain, whom acts of piety delight. 
Observant of the Gods, begins the rite; 
First shears the forehead of the bristly 

boar, 
And suppliant stauds, invoking ev'ry 

Power 470 

To speed Ulysses to his native shore, 
A knotty stake then aiming at his head, 
Down dropp'd he groaning, and the spirit 

fled. 
The scorching flames climb round on ev'ry 

side: 
Then the singed members they with skill 

divide ; 
On these, in rolls of fat involv'd with art, 
The choicest morsels lay from ev'ry part. 
Some in the flames bestrew'd with flour 

they threw; 
Some cut in fragments from the forks they 

drew : 479 



These, while on sev'ral tables they dispose, 
A priest himself, the blameless rustic rose; 
Expert the destiu'd victim to dispart 
In sev'n just portions, pure of hand and 

heart. 
One sacred to the Nymphs apart they lay; 
Another to the winged son of May: 
The rural tribe in common share the rest, 
The King, the chine, the honour of the 

feast ; 
Who sate delighted at his servant's board; 
The faithful servant joy'd his unknown 

lord. 489 

* O be thou dear' (Ulysses cried) ' to Jove, 
As well thou claim'st a grateful stranger's 

love ! ' 
' Be then thy thanks' (the bounteous 

swain replied) 
' Enjoyment of the good the Gods provide. 
From God's own hand descend our joys and 

woes; 
These he decrees, and he but suffers those: 
All power is his, and whatsoe'er he wills. 
The will itself, omnipotent, fulfils.' 
This said, the first-fruits to the Gods he 

gave; 
Then pour'd of offer'd wine the sable wave: 
In great Ulysses' hand he placed the bowl; 
He sate, and sweet refection cheer'd his 

souL 501 

The bread from canisters Mesaulius gave 
(Eumseus' proper treasure bought this slave, 
And led from Taphos, to attend his board, 
A servant added to his absent lord) ; 
His task it was the wheaten loaves to lay. 
And from the banquet take the bowls 

away. 
And now the rage of hunger was repress'd. 
And each betakes him to his couch to rest. 
Now came the night, and darkness 

cover'd o'er 510 

The face of things; the winds began to 

roar; 
The driving storm the w^at'ry west- wind 

pours. 
And Jove descends in deluges of showers. 
Studious of rest and warmth, Ulysses lies. 
Foreseeing from the first the storm would 

rise; 
In mere necessity of coat and cloak, 
With artful preface to his host he spoke : 
' Hear me, my friends, who this good ban- 
quet grace; 
'T is sweet to play the fool in time and 

place, 



THE ODYSSEY 



593 



And wine can of their wits the wise be- 
guile, 520 
Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile. 
The grave in merry measures frisk about, 
And many a long repented word bring 

out. 
Since to be talkative I now commence, 
Let Wit cast off the sullen yoke of Sense. 
Once I was strong (would Heav'n restore 

those days !) 
And with my betters claim'd a share of 

praise. 
Ulysses, Menelaiis, led forth a band. 
And join'd me with them ('t was their own 

command) ; 
A deathful ambush for the foe to lay, 530 
Beneath Troy walls by night we took our 

way; 
There, clad in arms, along the marshes 

spread, 
We made the ozier-fringed bank our bed. 
Full soon th' inclemency of Heav'n I feel, 
Nor had these shoulders cov'ring, but of 

steel. 
Sharp blew the north; snow whitening all 

the fields 
Froze with the blast, and, gath'ring, glazed 

our shields. 
There all but I, well-fenc'd with cloak and 
vest, 538 

Lay cover'd by their ample shields at rest. 
Fool that I was ! I left behind my own, 
The skill of weather and of winds un- 
known, 

And trusted to my coat and shield alone ! 
When now was wasted more than half the 

night. 
And the stars faded at approaching light, 
Sudden I jogg'd Ulysses, who was laid 
Fast by my side, and shiv'ring thus I said: 
'"Here longer in this field I cannot lie; 
The winter pinches, and with cold I die; 
And die ashamed (O wisest of mankind !), 
The only fool who left his cloak behind." 550 
* He thought and answer'd; hardly wak- 
ing yet, 
Sprung in his mind the momentary wit 
(That wit which, or in council or in fight. 
Still met th* emergence, and determined 

right). 
" Hush thee " (he cried, soft whisp'ring in 

my ear), 
" Speak not a word, lest any Greek may 

hear " — 
And then (supporting on his arm his head), 



" Hear me, Companions ! " (thus aloud he 

said): 
" Methinks too distant from the fleet we 

lie: 
Ev'n now a vision stood before my eye, 560 
And sure the warning vision was from 

high : 

Let from among us some swift courier rise. 

Haste to the Gen'ral, and demand supplies." 

* Up started Thoas straight, Andrsemon's 

son, 
Nimbly he rose, and cast his garment down; 
Instant, the racer vanish'd oif the ground; 
That instant in his cloak I wrapp'd me 

round; 
And safe I slept, till, brightly dawning, 

shone 
The Morn conspicuous on her golden 

throne. 
' Oh were my strength as then, as then 

my age ! 570 

Some friend would fence me from the 

winter's rage. 
Yet, tatter'd as I look, T challenged then 
The honours and the offices of men: 
Some master, or some servant would allow 
A cloak and vest — but I am nothing now ! ' 
' Well hast thou spoke ' (rejoin'd th' at- 
tentive swain); 
* Thy lips let fall no idle word or vain ! 
Nor garment shall thou want, nor aught 

beside. 
Meet for the wand'ring suppliant to pro- 
vide. 579 
But in the morning take thy clothes again, 
For here one vest suffices ev'ry swain; 
No change of garments to our hinds is 

known ; 
But when return'd, the good Ulysses' son 
With better hand shall grace with fit at- 
tires 
His guest, and send thee where thy soul 

desires.' 
The honest herdsman rose, as this he said. 
And drew before the hearth the stranger's 

bed; 
The fleecy spoils of sheep, a goat's rough 

hide 
He spreads: and adds a mantle thick and 

wide: 589 

With store to heap above him, and below. 
And guard each quarter as the tempests 

blow. 
There lay the King, and all the rest supine; 
All, but the careful master of the swine: 



594 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Forth hasted he to tend his bristly care; 

W ^11 arm'd, and fenc'd against nocturnal 
air: 

His weighty faulchion o'er his shoulder 
tied; 

His shaggy cloak a mountain goat sup- 
plied: 

With his broad spear, the dread of dogs 
and men, 

He seeks his lodging in the rocky den. 599 

There to the tusky herd he bends his way. 

Where, screen'd from Boreas, high o'er- 
arch'd they lay. 



BOOK XV 

THE RETURN OF TELEMACHUS 
ARGUMENT 

The Goddess Minerva commands Telemachus 
in a vision to return to Ithaca. Pisistratus 
and he take leave of Menelaiis, and arrive at 
Pylos, where they part ; Telemachus sets 
sail, after having- received on board Theo- 
clymenus the soothsayer. The scene then 
changes to the cottag-e of Evimasus, who en- 
tertains Ulysses with a recital of his adven- 
tures. In the meantime Telemachus arrives 
on the coast, and, sending the vessel to the 
town, proceeds by himself to the lodge of Eu- 
mseus. 

Now had Minerva reach'd those ample 

plains. 
Famed for the dance, where Menelaiis 

reigns ; 
Anxious she flies to great Ulysses' heir, 
His instant voyage challenged all her care. 
Beneath the royal portico display'd, 
With Nestor's son Telemachus was laid; 
In sleep profound the son of Nestor lies; 
Not thine, Ulysses ! Care unseal'd his eyes: 
Restless he griev'd, with various fears op- 

press'd, 
And all thy fortunes roU'd within his 

breast. 10 

When * O Telemachus! ' (the Goddess said) 
* Too lon§ in vain, too widely hast thou 

stray'd. 
Thus leaving careless thy paternal right 
The robbers' prize, the prey to lawless 

might. 
On fond pursuits neglectful while you roam, 
Ev'n now the hand of rapine sacks the 

dome. 



Hence to Atrides ; and his leave implore 

To launch thy vessel for thy natal shore : 

Fly, whilst thy mother virtuous yet with- 
stands 

Her kindred's wishes, and her sire's com- 
mands; 20 

Thro' both, Eurymachns pursues the dame, 

And with the noblest gifts asserts his claim. 

Hence therefore, while thy stores thy own 
remain; 

Thou know'st the practice of the female 
train; 

Lost in the children of the present spouse. 

They slight the pledges of their former 
vows; 

Their love is always with the lover past; 

Still the succeeding flame expels the last. 

Let o'er thy house some chosen maid pre- 
side, 29 

Till Heav'n decrees to bless thee in a bride. 

But now thy more attentive ears incline. 

Observe the warnings of a Power divine ; 

For thee their snares the suitor lords shall 
lay 

In Samos' sands, or straits of Ithaca; 

To seize thy life shall lurk the murd'rous 
band. 

Ere yet thy footsteps press thy native land. 

No — sooner far their riot and their lust 

All-cov'ring earth shall bury deep in dust. 

Then distant from the scatter'd islands 
steer. 

Nor let the night retard thy full career; 40 

Thy heav'nly guardian shall instruct the 
gales 

To smooth thy passage and supply thy 
sails : 

And when at Ithaca thy labour ends. 

Send to the town the vessel with thy 
friends ; 

But seek thou first the master of the swine, 

(For still to thee his loyal thoughts in- 
cline); 

There pass the night; while he his course 
pursues 

To bring Penelope the wish'd-for news, 

That thou, safe sailing from the Pylian 
strand. 

Art come to bless her in thy native land.' 50 
Thus spoke the Goddess, and resumed 
her flight 

To the pure regions of eternal light. 

Meanwhile Pisistratus he gently shakes. 

And with these words the slumb'ring youth 
awakes : 



THE ODYSSEY 



595 



* Rise, son of Nestor; for the road pre- 

pare, 
And join the harness'd coursers to the ear.' 

* What cause,' he cried, ' can justify our 

flight 
To tempt the dangers of forbidding night ? 
Here wait we rather, till approaching day 
Shall prompt our speed, and point the ready 

way. 60 

Nor think of flight before the Spartan 

King 
Shall bid farewell, and bounteous presents 

bring; 
Gifts, which to distant ages safely stor'd, 
The sacred act of friendship shall record.' 
Thus he. But when the dawn bestreak'd 

the east, 
The King from Helen rose, and sought bis 

guest. 
As soon as his approach the Hero knew. 
The splendid mantle round him first he 

tlirew, 
Then o'er his ample shoulders whirl'd the 

cloak, 69 

Respectful met the Monarch, and bespoke: 

' Hail, great Atrides, favour'd of high 

Jove! 
Let not thy friends in vain for license 

move. 
Swift let us measure back the wat'ry way, 
Nor check our speed, impatient of delay.' 
' If with desire so strong thy bosom 

glows, 
111,' said the King, * should I thy wish op- 
pose : 
For oft in others freely I reprove 
The ill-timed efforts of officious love; 
Who love too much, hate in the like ex- 
treme, 79 
And both the golden mean alike condemn. 
Alike he thwarts the hospitable end, 
Who drives the free, or stays the hasty 

friend : 
True friendship's laws are by this rule ex- 

press'd. 
Welcome the coming, speed the parting 

guest. 
Yet stay, my friends, and in your chariot 

take 
The noblest presents that our love can 

make; 
Meantime commit we to our women's care 
Some choice domestic viands to prepare; 
The trav'ler, rising from the banquet gay. 
Eludes the labours of the tedious way. 90 



Then if a wider course shall rather please. 
Thro' spacious Argos and the realms of 

Greece, 
Atrides in his chariot shall attend; 
Himself thy convoy to each royal friend. 
No Prince will let Ulysses' heir remove 
Without some pledge, some monument of 

love : 
These will the cauldron, these the tripod ^ 

give; 
From those the well-pair'd mules we shall [^ 

receive. 
Or bowl emboss'd whose golden figures 

live.' 
To whom the youth, for prudence famed, 

replied : 100 

* O Monarch, Care of Heav'n ! thy people's 

pride ! 
No friend in Ithaca my place supplies. 
No powerful hands are there, no watchful 

eyes : 
My stores exposed and fenceless house de- 
mand 
The speediest succour from my guardian 

hand; 
Lest, in a search too anxious and too vain 
Of one lost joy, I lose what yet remain.' 
His purpose when the gen'rous Warrior 

heard, 
He charged the household cates to be pre- 
pared. 
Now with the dawn, from his adjoining 

home, no 

Was Boethcedes Eteoneus come; 
Swift at the word he forms the rising 

blaze. 
And o'er the coals the smoking fragments 

lays. 
Meantime the King, his son, and Helen 

went 
Where the rich wardrobe breathed a costly 

scent. 
The King selected from the glitt'ring 

rows 
A bowl; the Prince a silver beaker chose. 
The beauteous Queen revolv'd with careful 

eyes 
Her various textures of unnumber'd dyes, 
And chose the largest; with no vulgar 

art 120 

Her own fair hands embroider'd every 

part : 
Beneath the rest it lay divinely bright. 
Like radiant Hesper o'er the gems of 

night. 



596 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Then with each gift they hastened to their 

guest, 
And thus the King Ulysses' heir address'd: 
' Since fix'd are thy resolves, may thun- 

d'ring Jove 
With happiest omens thy desires approve! 
This silver bowl, whose costly margins 

shine 
Enchased with gold, this valued gift be 

thine ; 
To me this present, of Vulcanian frame, 130 
From Sidon's hospitable Monarch came; 
To thee we now consign the precious load, 
The pride of Kings, and labour of a God.* 
Then gave the cup, while Megapenthe 

brought 
The silver vase with living sculpture 

wrought. 
The beauteous Queen, advancing next, dis- 

play'd 
The shining veil, and thus endearing said: 
' Accept, dear youth, this monument of 

love, 
Long since, in better days, by Helen wove: 
Safe in thy mother's care the vesture 

lay, 140 

To deck thy bride, and grace thy nuptial 

day. 
Meantime may'st thou with happiest speed 

regain 
Thy stately palace, and thy wide domain.' 
She said, and gave the veil; with grate- 
ful look 
The Prince the variegated present took. 
And now, when thro' the royal dome they 

pass'd. 
High on a throne the King each stranger 

placed. 
A golden ewer th' attendant damsel brings, 
Replete with water from the crystal 

springs ; 
With copious streams the shining vase sup- 
plies 150 
A silver laver of capacious size. 
They wash. The tables in fair order 

spread, 
The glitt'ring canisters are crown'd with 

bread ; 
Viands of various kinds allure the taste, 
Of choicest sort and savour; rich repast ! 
Whilst Eteoneus portions out the shares, 
Atrides' son the purple draught prepares. 
And now (each sated with the genial feast. 
And the short rage of thirst and hunger 

ceas'd), 



Ulysses' son, with his illustrious friend, 160 

The horses join, the polish' d car ascend. 

Along the court the fiery steeds rebound. 

And the wide portal echoes to the sound. 

The King precedes; a bowl with fragrant 
wine 

(Libation destin'd to the Powers divine) 

His right hand held: before the steeds he 
stands. 

Then, mix'd with prayers, he utters these 
commands: 
'Farewell, and prosper. Youths ! let Nes- 
tor know 

What grateful thoughts still in this bosom 
glow. 

For all the proofs of his paternal care, 170 

Thro' the long dangers of the ten years' 
war.' 
* Ah ! doubt not our report ' (the Prince 
rejoin 'd) 

' Of all the virtues of thy gen'rous mind. 

And oh ! return'd might we Ulysses meet ! 

To him thy presents show, thy words re- 
peat: 

How will each speech his grateful wonder 
raise ! 

How will each gift indulge us in thy 
praise ! ' 
Scarce ended thus the Prince, when on 
the right 

Advanc'd the bird of Jove: auspicious 
sight ! 

A milk-white fowl his clinchmg talons 
bore, 180 

With care domestic pamper'd at the floor. 

Peasants in vain with threat'ning cries 
pursue. 

In solemn speed the bird majestic flew 

Full dexter to the car: the prosp'rous sight 

Fill'd ev'ry breast with wonder and de- 
light. 
But Nestor's son the cheerful silence 
broke. 

And in these words the Spartan Chief be- 
spoke: 

* Say if to us the Gods these omens send, 

Or fates peculiar to thyself portend ? ' 
Whilst yet the Monarch paus'd, with 
doubts oppress'd, 190 

The beauteous Queen reliev'd his lab'ring 
breast: 

' Hear me ' (she cried), * to whom the Gods 
have given 

To read this sign, and mystic sense of 
Heav'n. 



THE ODYSSEY 



597 



As thus the plumy sov'reign of the air 
Left on the mountain's brow his callow 

care, 
And wander'd thro' the wide ethereal way 
To pour his wrath on yon luxurious prey; 
So shall thy godlike father, toss'd in vain 
Thro' all the dangers of the boundless 

main, 
Arrive (or is perchance already come), 200 
From slaughter'd gluttons to release the 

dome.' 
* Oh ! if this promis'd bliss by thund'ring 

Jove ' 
(The Prince replied) * stand fix'd in Fate 

above ; 
To thee, as to some God, I '11 temples 

raise, 
And crown thy altars with the costly 

blaze.' 
He said; and, bending o'er his chariot, 

flung 
Athwart the fiery steeds the smarting 

thong ; 
The bounding shafts upon the harness play. 
Till night descending intercepts the way. 
To Diodes at Pherse they repair, 210 

Whose boasted sire was sacred Alpheus' 

heir; 
With him all night the youthful strangers 

stay'd. 
Nor found the hospitable rites unpaid. 
But soon as Morning from her orient bed 
Had tinged the mountains with her earliest 

red, 
They join'd the steeds, and on the chariot 

sprung; 
The brazen portals in their passage rung. 
To Pylos soon they came; when thus 

begun 
To Nestor's heir Ulysses' godlike son: 219 

* Let not Pisistratus in vain be press'd. 
Nor unconsenting hear his friend's re- 
quest; 
His friend by long hereditary claim, 
In toils his equal, and in years the same. 
No farther from our vessel, I implore, 
The coursers drive; but lash them to the 

shore. 
Too long thy father would his friend de- 
tain; 
I dread his proffer'd kindness urged in vain.' 
The Hero paus'd, and ponder'd this re- 
quest. 
While love and duty warr'd within his 

breast. 



At length resolv'd, he turn'd his ready 

hand, 230 

And lash'd his panting coursers to the 

strand. 
There, while within the poop with care he 

stor'd 
The regal presents of the Spartan lord, 
' With speed begone ' (said he) ; * call every 

mate. 
Ere yet to Nestor I the tale relate: 
'T is true, the fervour of his gen'rous 

heart 
Brooks no repulse, nor couldst thou soon 

depart: 
Himself will seek thee here, nor wilt thou 

find. 
In words alone, the Pylian Monarch kind. 
But when, arrived, he thy return shall 

know, 240 

How will liis breast with honest fury 

glow ! ' 
This said, the sounding strokes his horses 

fire. 
And soon he reach'd the palace of his sire. 
' Now ' (cried Telemachus) ' with speedy 

care 
Hoist ev'ry sail, and ev'ry oar prepare ! ' 
Swift as the word his willing mates obey. 
And seize their seats, impatient for the 

sea. 
Meantime the Prince with sacrifice 

adores 
Minerva, and her guardian aid implores; 
When lo ! a wretch ran breathless to the 

shore, 250 

New from his crime ; and reeking yet with 

gore. 
A seer he was, from great Melampus 

sprung, 
Melampus, who in Pylos flourish'd long. 
Till, urged by wrongs, a foreign realm he 

chose. 
Far from the hateful cause of all his woes. 
Neleus his treasures one long year de- 
tains: 
As long he groan'd in Phylacus's chains: 
Meantime, what anguish and what rage 

combin'd. 
For lovely Pero rack'd his lab'ring mind ! 
Yet 'scaped he death: and, vengeful of his 

wrong, 260 

To Pylos drove the lowing herds along: 
Then (Neleus vanquish'd, and consign'd the 

fair 
To Bias' arms) he sought a foreign air; 



598 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Argos the rich for his retreat he chose ; 
There form'd his empire: there his palace 

rose. 
From him Antiphates and Mantius came; ] 
The first begot Oicleus great in fame, > 
And he Amphiaraiis, immortal name ! J 
The people's saviour, and divinely wise, 
Belov'd by Jove, and him who gilds the 

skies; 270 }■ 

Yet short his date of life ! by female 

pride he dies. 
From Mantius Clitus, whom Aurora's 

love 
Snatch'd for his beauty to the thrones 

above; 
And Polyphides, on whom Phcebus shone 
With fullest rays, Amphiaraiis now gone; 
In Hyperesia's groves he made abode, 
And taught mankind the counsels of the 

God. 
From him sprung Theoclymenus, who 

found 
(The sacred wine yet foaming on the 

ground) 
Telemachus: whom, as to Heav'n he 

press'd 280 

His ardent vows, the stranger thus ad- 

dress'd: 

* thou ! that dost thy happy course pre- 

pare 
With pure libations and with solemn 

prayer; 
By that dread Power to whom thy vows are 

paid; 
By all the lives of these; thy own dear 

head, 
Declare sincerely to no foe's demand 
Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land.' 

* Prepare, then,' said Telemachus, ' to 

know 
A tale from falsehood free, not free from 

woe. 
From Ithaca, of royal birth I came, 290 
And great Ulysses (ever-honour'd name !) 
Once was my sire, tho' now for ever lost, 
In Stygian gloom he glides a pensive ghost! 
Whose fate inquiring thro' the world we 

rove: 
The last, the wretched proof of filial love.' 
The stranger then : ' Nor shall I aught 

conceal. 
But the dire secret of my fate reveal. 
Of my own tribe an Argive wretch I slew; 
Whose powerful friends the luckless deed 

pursue 



With unrelenting rage, and force from 
home 300 

The blood-stain'd exile, ever doom'd to 
roam. 

But bear, oh bear me o'er yon azure flood; 

Receive the suppliant ! spare my destin'd 
blood ! ' 
* Stranger ' (replied the Prince), * se- 
curely rest 

Affianc'd in our faith; henceforth our 
guest.' 

Thus affable, Ulysses' godlike heir 

Takes from the stranger's hand the glit- 
t'ring spear: 

He climbs the ship, ascends the stern with 
haste. 

And by his side the guest accepted placed. 

The Chief his order gives: th' obedient 
band 310 

With due observance wait the Chief's com- 
mand. 

With speed the mast they rear, with speed 
unbind 

The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the 
wind, 

Minerva calls; the ready gales obey 

With rapid speed to whirl them o'er the 
sea. 

Crunus they pass'd, next Chalcis roll'd 
away, 

When thick'ning darkness closed the doubt- 
ful day; 

The silver Phsea's glitt'ring rills they lost, 

And skimm'd along by Elis' sacred coast. 

Then cautious thro' the rocky reaches 
wind, 320 

And, turning sudden, shun the death de- 
sign'd. 
Meantime, the King, Eumseus, and the 
rest. 

Sate in the cottage, at their rural feast: 

The banquet pass'd, and satiate ev'ry man, 

To try his host, Ulysses thus began : 

' Yet one night more, my friends, indulge 
your guest; 

The last I purpose in your walls to rest; 

To-morrow for myself I must provide, 

And only ask your counsel, and a guide; 

Patient to roam the street, by hunger led, 

And bless the friendly hand that gives me 
bread. 331 

There in Ulysses' roof I may relate 

Ulysses' wand'rings to his royal mate; 

Or, mingling with the suitors' haughty train, 

Not undeserving some support obtain. 



THE ODYSSEY 



599 



Hermes to me his various gifts imparts, 

Patron of industry and manual arts: 

Few can with me in dext'rous works con- 
tend, 

The pyre to build, the stubborn oak to 
rend ; 

To turn the tasteful viand o'er the flame ; 340 

Or foam the goblet with a purple stream. 

Such are the tasks of men of mean estate, 

Whom fortune dooms to serve the rich and 
great.' 
* Alas ! ' (Eumfeus with a sigh rejoin'd) 

* How sprung a thought so monstrous in thy 
mind ? 

If on that godless race thou would'st at- 
tend, 

Fate owes thee sure a miserable end ! 

Their wrongs and blasphemies ascend the 
sky. 

And pull descending vengeance from on 
high. 

Not such, my friend, the servants of their 
feast; 350 

A blooming train in rich embroid'ry dress'd! 

With earth's whole tribute the bright table 
bends. 

And smiling round celestial youth attends. 

Stay, then; no eye askance beholds thee 
here ; 

Sweet is thy converse to each social ear: 

Well pleas'd, and pleasing, in our cottage 
rest, 

Till good Telemachus accepts his guest 

With genial gifts, and change of fair at- 
tires. 

And safe conveys thee where thy soul de- 
sires.' 
To him the man of woes: *0 gracious 
Jove 360 

Reward this stranger's hospitable love ! 

Who knows the son of sorrow to relieve, 

Cheers the sad heart, nor lets affliction 
grieve. 

Of all the ills unhappy mortals know, 

A life of wand'rings is the greatest woe: 

On all their weary ways wait Care and 
Pain, 

And Pine and Penury, a meagre train. 

To such a man since harbour you afford. 

Relate the farther fortunes of your lord ; 

What cares his mother's tender breast en- 

. g^g^, 370 

And sire forsaken on the verge of age; 
Beneath the sun prolong they yet their 
breath, 



Or range the house of darkness and of 
death ? ' 
To whom the swain: * Attend what you 
inquire ; 
Laertes lives, the miserable sire; 
Lives, but implores of ev'ry Power to lay 
The burden down, and wishes for the day. 
Torn from his offspring in the eve of life. 
Torn from th' embraces of his tender wife, 
Sole, and all comfortless, he wastes away 
Old age, untimely posting ere his day. 381 
She too, sad mother ! for Ulysses lost 
Pined out her bloom, and vanish'd to a ghost 
(So dire a fate, ye righteous Gods ! avert 
From ev'ry friendly, ev'ry feeling heart); 
While yet she was, the' clouded o'er with 

grief. 
Her pleasing converse minister'd relief: 
With Ctimene, her youngest daughter, bred, 
One roof contain'd us, and one table fed. 
But when the softly-stealing pace of time 
Crept on from childhood into youthful 
prime, 391 

To Samos isle she sent the wedded fair; 
Me to the fields, to tend the rural care; 
Array'd in garments her own hands had 

wove, 
Nor less the darling object of her love. 
Her hapless death my brighter days o'er- 

cast. 
Yet Providence deserts me not at last: 
My present labours food and drink procure, 
And more, the pleasure to relieve the poor. 
Small is the comfort from the Queen to 
hear 400 

Unwelcome news, or vex the royal ear; 
Blank and discountenanc'd the servants 

stand. 
Nor dare to question where the proud com- 
mand: 
No profit springs beneath usurping powers; 
Want feeds not there, where Luxury de- 
vours. 
Nor harbours charity where riot reigns: 
Proud are the Lords, and wretched are the 
Swains.' 
The suff'ring Chief at this began to melt; 
And, ' O Eumaeus ! thou ' (he cries) * hast 

felt 
The spite of Fortune too ! her cruel hand 410 
Suatch'd thee an infant from thy native 

land ! 
Snatch'd from thy parents' arms, thy par- 
ents' eyes, 
To early wants ! a man of miseries ! 



6oo 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The whole sad story, from its first, declare : 
Sunk the fair city by the rage of war, 
Where once thy parents dwelt ? or did 

they keep, 
In humbler life, the lowing herds and 

sheep ? 
So left perhaps to tend the fleecy train. 
Rude pirates seiz'd, and shipp'd thee o'er 

the main ? 
Doom'd a fair prize to grace some Prince's 

board, 420 

The worthy purchase of a foreign Lord.' 
* If then my fortunes can delight my 

friend, 
A story fruitful of events attend: 
Another's sorrow may thy ear enjoy, 
And wine the lengthen'd intervals employ. 
Long nights the now declining year be- 
stows ; 
A part we consecrate to soft repose, 
A part in pleasing talk we entertain; 
For too much rest itself becomes a pain. 
Let those, whom sleep invites, the call 

obey, ^ _ 430 

Their cares resuming with the dawning 

day: 
Here let us feast, and to the feast be join'd 
Discourse, the sweeter banquet of the 

mind; 
Review the series of our lives, and taste 
The melancholy joy of evils pass'd: 
For he who much has suffer'd, much will 

know. 
And pleas'd remembrance builds delight 

on woe. 
' Above Ortygia lies an isle of fame. 
Far hence remote, and Syria is the name 
(There curious eyes inscribed with wonder 

trace 440 

The sun's diurnal, and his annual race) ; 
Not large, but fruitful; stored with grass, 

to keep 
The bell'wing oxen and the bleating sheep; 
Her sloping hills the mantling vines adorn. 
And her rich valleys wave with golden corn. 
No want, no famine, the glad natives know, 
Nor sink by sickness to the shades below; 
But when a length of years unnerves the 

strong, 448 

Apollo comes, and Cynthia comes along. 
They bend the silver bow with tender skill, 
And, void of pain, the silent arrows kill. 
Two equal tribes this fertile land divide. 
Where two fair cities rise with equal pride. 
But both in constant peace one Prince obey, 



And Ctesius there, my father, holds the 

sway. 
Freighted, it seems, vdth toys of ev'ry sort, 
A ship of Sidon anchor'd in our port; 
What time it chanc'd the palace enter- 
tain 'd, 
Skill'd in rich works, a woman of their 

land: 
This nymph, where anchor'd the Phcenician 

train, 460 

To wash her robes descending to the main, 
A smooth-tongued sailor won her to his 

mind 
(For love deceives the best of womankind). 
A sudden trust from sudden liking grew; 
She told her name, her race, and all she 

knew. 
" I too " (she cried) " from glorious Sidon 

came. 
My father Arybas, of wealthy fame ; 
But, snatch'd by pirates from my native 

place. 
The Taphians sold me to this man's em- 
brace." 
* " Haste then " (the false designing youth 

replied), 470 

" Haste to thy country ; love shall be thy 

guide ; 
Haste to thy father's house, thy father's 

breast. 
For still he lives, and lives with riches 

blest." 
* " Swear first " (she cried), " ye Sail- ' 

ors ! to restore 
A wretch in safety to her native shore." 
Swift as she ask'd, the ready sailors 

swore. 
She then proceeds: " Now let our compact 

made 
Be nor by signal nor by word betray'd. 
Nor near me any of your crew descried, 
By road frequented, or by fountain side: 480 
Be silence still our guard. The Monarch's 

spies 
(For watchful age is ready to surmise) 
Are still at hand; and this reveal'd, must 

be 
Death to yourselves, eternal chains to me. 
Your vessel loaded, and your traffic pass'd, 
Despatch a wary messenger with haste; 
Then gold and costly treasures will I bring, 
And more, the infant-offspring of the King. 
Him, childlike wand'ring forth, I '11 lead 

away 
(A noble prize !) and to your ship convey.'* 



THE ODYSSEY 



6oi 



' Thus spoke the dame, and homeward 

took the road. 491 

A year they traffic, and their vessel load. 
Their stores complete, and ready now to 

weigh, 
A spy was sent their summons to convey: 
An artist to my father's palace came. 
With gold and amber chains, elab'rate 

frame: 
Each female eye the glitt'ring links em- 
ploy; 
They turn, review, and cheapen ev'ry toy. 
He took th' occasion, as they stood intent, 
Gave her the sign, and to his vessel went. 
She straight pursued, and seiz'd my willing 

arm; 501 

I follow'd smiling, innocent of harm. 
Tliree golden goblets in the porch she 

found 
(The guests not enter'd, but the table 

crown'd) ; 
Hid in her fraudful bosom these she bore: 
Now set the sun, and darken'd all the 

shore. 
Arriving then, where, tilting on the tides, 
Prepared to launch the freighted vessel 

rides, 
Aboard they heave us, mount their decks, 

and sweep 
With level oar along the glassy deep. 510 
Six calmy days and six smooth nights we 

sail, 
And constant Jove supplied the gentle 

gale. 
The sev'nth, the fraudful wretch (no cause 

descried), 
Touch'd by Diana's vengeful arrow, died. 
Down dropp'd the caitiff-corse, a worth- "" 

less load, 
Down to the deep; there roU'd, the future 

food 
Of fierce sea-wolves, and monsters of the 

flood. 

A helpless infant I remain'd behind; 
Thence borne to Ithaca by wave and wind; 
Sold to Laertes by divine command, 520 
And now adopted to a foreign land.' 

To him the King: 'Reciting thus thy 

cares. 
My secret soul in all thy sorrow shares; 
But one choice blessing (such is Jove's 

high will) 
Has sweeten'd all thy bitter draught of ill: 
Torn from thy country to no hapless end. 
The Gods have, in a master, giv'n a friend. 



Whatever frugal nature needs is thine 
(For she needs little), daily bread and 

wine. 
While I, so many wand'rings past and 

woes, 530 

Live but on what thy poverty bestows.' 

So pass'd in pleasing dialogue away "] 
The night; then down to short repose I 

they lay; [ 

Till radiant rose the messenger of day. J 
While in the port of Ithaca, the band 
Of young Telemachus approach'd the land; 
Their sails they loos'd, they lash'd the 

mast aside, 
And cast their anchors, and the cables 

tied: 
Then on the breezy shore, descending, join 
In grateful banquet o'er the rosy wine. 540 
When thus the Prince: * Now each his 

course pursue: 
I to the fields, and to the city you. 
Long absent hence, I dedicate this day 
My swains to visit, and the works survey. 
Expect me with the morn, to pay the skies 
Our debt of safe return in feast and sacri- 
fice.' 
Then Theoclymenus: * But who shall lend, 
Meantime, protection to thy stranger 

friend ? 
Straight to the Queen and Palace shall I 

%) 549 

Or, yet more distant, to some Lord apply ? ' 
The Prince return'd: ' Renown'd in days 

of yore 
Has stood our father's hospitable door; 
No other roof a stranger should receive. 
No other hands than ours the welcome 

give. 
But in my absence riot fills the place, 
Nor bears the modest Queen a stranger's 

face; 
From noiseful revel far remote she flies. 
But rarely seen, or seen with weeping eyes. 
No — let Eurymachus receive my guest, 
Of nature courteous, and by far the best; 
He woos the Queen with more respectful 

flame, 561 

And emulates her former husband's fame: 
With what success, 't is Jove's alone to 

know. 
And the hoped nuptials turn to joy or woe.* 
Thus speaking, on the right up-soar'd in 

air 
The hawk, Apollo's swift-wing'd messen- 
ger: 



6o2 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



His deathful pounces tore a trembling 

dove; 
The clotted feathers, scatter'd from above, 
Between the hero and the vessel pour 
Thick plumage, mingled with a sanguine 

shower. 570 

Th' observing augur took the Prince 

aside, 
Seiz'd by the hand, and thus prophetic 

cried: 
' Yon bird, that dexter cuts th' aerial road. 
Rose ominous, nor flies without a God: 
No race but thine shall Ithaca obey; 
To thine, for ages, Heav'n decrees the 

sway.' 
* Succeed the omens, Gods ! ' (the youth 

rejoin'd) 
* Soon shall my bounties speak a grateful 

mind. 
And soon each envied happiness attend 579 
The man who calls Telemachus his friend.' 
Then to Peirseus: 'Thou whom time has 

prov'd 
A faithful servant, by thy Prince belov'd ! 
Till we returning shall our guest demand, 
Accept this charge with honour, at our 

hand.' 
To this Peiraeus: 'Joyful I obey. 
Well pleas'd the hospitable rites to pay. 
The presence of thy guest shall best re- 
ward 
(If long thy stay) the absence of my lord.' 
With that, their anchors he commands to 

weigh. 
Mount the tall bark, and launch into the 

sea. 590 

All with obedient haste forsake the shores, 
And, placed in order, spread their equal 

oars. 
Then from the deck the Prince his sandals 

takes; 
Pois'd in his hand the pointed jav'lin shakes. 
They part; while, less'ning from the hero's 

view. 
Swift to the town the well-row'd galley flew: 
The hero trod the margin of the main, 
And reach 'd the mansion of his faithful 

swain. 



BOOK XVII 



ARGUMENT 

Telemachus, returning to the city, relates to 
Penelope the sum of his travels. Ulysses is 



conducted by Eumtens to the palace, where 
his old dog Argus acknowledges his master, 
after an absence of twenty years, and dies 
with joy. Eumaeus returns into the country, 
and Ulysses remains among the Suitors, 
whose behaviour is described. 



Soon as Aurora, Daughter of the Dawn, 
Sprinkled with roseate light the dewy 

lawn. 
In haste the Prince arose, prepared to part; 
His hand impatient grasps the pointed 

dart; 
Fair on his feet the polish'd sandals shine, 
And thus he greets the master of the 

swine : 
'My friend, adieu! let this short stay 

suffice; 
I haste to meet my mother's longing eyes, 
And end her tears, her sorrows, and her 

sighs. 

But thou, attentive, what we order heed : 10 
This hapless stranger to the city lead: 
By public bounty let him there be fed. 
And bless the hand that stretches forth the 

bread ; 
To wipe the tears from all afflicted eyes, 
My will may covet, but my power denies. 
If this raise anger in the stranger's 

thought. 
The pain of anger punishes the fault: 
The very truth I undisguised declare; 
For what so easy as to be sincere ? ' 

To this Ulysses: 'What the Prince re- 
quires 20 
Of swift removal, seconds my desires. 
To want like mine the peopled town can 

yield 
More hopes of comfort than the lonely 

field: 
Nor fits my age to till the labour'd lands, 
Or stoop to tasks a rural lord demands. 
Adieu ! but since this ragged garb cai7. 

bear 
So ill th' inclemencies of morning air, 
A few hours' space permit me here to' 

stay: 
My steps Eumseus shall to town convey, 
With riper beams when Phoebus warms 

the day.' 30 

Thus he; nor aught Telemachus replied, 
But left the mansion with a lofty stride : 
Schemes of revenge his pond'ring breast 

elate. 
Revolving deep the suitors' sudden fate. 



THE ODYSSEY 



603 



Arriving* now before th' imperial hall, 

He props his spear against the pillar'd 
wall; 

Then like a lion o'er the threshold bounds; 

The marble pavement with his step re- 
sounds; 

His eye first glanc'd where Euryclea 
spreads 

With furry spoils of beasts the splendid 
beds: 40 

She saw, she wept, she ran with eager 
pace, 

And reach'd her master with a long em- 
brace. 

All crowded round the family appears 

With wild entrancement, and ecstatic 
tears. 

Swift from above descends the royal Fair 

(Her beauteous cheeks the blush of Venus 
wear, 

Chasten'd with coy Diana's pensive air); 

Hangs o'er her son, in his embraces dies; 

Rains kisses on his neck, his face, his eyes: 

Few words she spoke, tho' much she had to 
say: so 

And scarce those few, for tears, could force 
their way. 

* Light of my eyes ! he comes ! unhoped- 

for joy ! 
Has Heav'n from Pylos brought my lovely 

boy? 
So snatch'd from all our cares ! — Tell, 

hast thou known 
Thy father's fate, and tell me all thy own.' 

* Oh dearest ! most revered of woman- 

kind ! 
Cease with those tears to melt a manly 

mind ' 
(Replied the Prince) ; ' nor be our fates 

deplor'd. 
From death and treason to thy arms re- 

stor'd. 
Go, bathe, and robed in white ascend the 

towers ; 60 

With all thy handmaids thank th' immor- 
tal Powers: 
To ev'ry God vow hecatombs to bleed, 
And call Jove's vengeance on the guilty 

deed. 
While to th' assembled council I repair; 
A stranger sent by Heav'n attends me 

there ; 
My new accepted guest I haste to find. 
Now to Peirfflus' honour'd charge con- 

sign'd.' 



The matron heard, nor was his word in 
vain. 

She bathed; and, robed in white, with all 
her train, 

To ev'ry God vow'd hecatombs to bleed, 70 

And caird Jove's vengeance on the guilty 
deed. 

Arm'd with his lance, the Prince then pass'd 
the gate; 

Two dogs behind, a faithful guard, await; 

Pallas his form with grace divine im- 
proves: 

The gazing crowd admires him as he 
moves: 

Him, gath'ring round, the haughty suitors 
greet 

With semblance fair, but inward deep de- 
ceit. 

Tlieir false addresses gen'rous he denied, 

Pass'd on, and sate by faithful Mentor's 
side; 

With Antiphus, and Halitherses sage, 80 

His father's counsellors, revered for age. 

Of his own fortunes, and Ulysses' fame. 

Much ask'd the seniors; till Peirseus came. 

The stranger-guest pursued him close be- 
hind; 

Whom when Telemachus beheld, he join'd. 

He (when Peirseus ask'd for slaves to bring 

The gifts and treasures of the Spartan 
King) 

Thus thoughtful answer'd: * Those we shall 
not move, 

Dark and unconscious of the will of Jove: 

We know not yet the full event of all; 90 

Stabb'd in his palace if your Prince must 
fall. 

Us, and our house, if treason must o'er- 
throw. 

Better a friend possess them than a foe; 

If death to these, and vengeance, Heav'n 
decree, 

Riches are welcome then, not else, to me. 

Till then retain the gifts.' — The hero said, 

And in his hand the willing stranger led. 

Then, disarray 'd, the shining bath they 
sought 

(With unguents smooth) of polish'd marble 
wrought; 

Obedient handmaids with assistant toil 100 

Supply the limpid wave, and fragrant oil; 

Then o'er their limbs refulgent robes they 
threw. 

And fresh from bathing to their seats with- 
drew. 



6o4 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



The golden ewer a nymph attendant 

brings, 
Replenish'd from the pure transhicent 

springs: 
With copious streams that golden ewer 

supplies 
A silver laver of capacious size. 
They wash: the table, in fair order spread, 
Is piled with viands and the strength of 

bread. 
Full opposite, before the folding gate, no 
The pensive mother sits in humble state; 
Lowly she sate, and with dejected view 
The fleecy threads her iv'ry fingers drew. 
The Prince and stranger shared the genial 

feast, 
Till now the rage of thirst and hunger 
ceas'd. 
When thus the Queen : * My son ! my 
only friend ! 
Say, to my mournful couch shall I ascend 
(The couch deserted now a length of 

years; 
The couch for ever water'd with my tears)? 
Say, wilt thou not (ere yet the suitor crew 
Return, and riot shakes our walls anew), 121 
Say, wilt thou not the least account af- 
ford ? 
The least glad tidings of my absent lord ? ' 
To her the youth : * We reach'd the Py- 
lian plains. 
Where Nestor, shepherd of his people, 

reigns. 
All arts of tenderness to him are known, 
Kind to Ulysses' race as to his own : 
No father with a fonder grasp of joy 
Strains to his bosom his long-absent boy. 
But all unknown, if yet Ulysses breathe, 130 
Or glide a spectre in the realms beneath: 
For farther search, his rapid steeds trans- 
port 
My lengthen'd journey to the Spartan 

court. 
There Argive Helen I beheld, whose charms 
(So Heav'n decreed) engaged the great in 

arms. 
My cause of coming told, he thus rejoin'd; 
And still his words live perfect in my 
mind : 
* " Heav'ns! would a soft, inglorious, das- 
tard train 
An absent hero's nuptial joys profane ! 
So with her young, amid the woodland 
shades, 140 

A tim'rous hind the lion's court invades, 



Leaves in that fatal lair her tender fawns. 
And climbs the cliffs, or feeds along the 

lawns; 
Meantime returning, with remorseless sway 
The monarch savage rends the panting 

prey : 
With equal fury, and with equal fame, 
Shall great Ulysses reassert his claim. 
O Jove ! Supreme ! whom men and Gods 

revere; 
And thou, whose lustre gilds the rolling 

sphere ! 
With power congenial join'd, propitious 

aid 150 

The Chief adopted by the Martial Maid! 
Such to our wish the warrior soon restore, 
As when, contending on the Lesbian shore. 
His prowess Philomelides confess'd, 
And loud acclaiming Greeks the victor 

bless'd : 
Then soon th' invaders of his bed and 

throne. 
Their love presumptuous shall by death 

atone. 
Now what you question of my ancient 

friend, 
With truth I answer ; thou the truth at- 
tend. 
Learn what I heard the sea-born seer re- 
late, 160 
Whose eye can pierce the dark recess of 

fate. 
Sole in an isle, imprison'd by the main. 
The sad survivor of his numerous train, 
Ulysses lies; detain'd by magic charms. 
And press'd unwilling in Calypso's arms. 
No sailors there, no vessels to convey. 
No oars to cut th' immeasurable way." 
This told Atrides, and he told no more. 
Then safe I voyaged to my native shore.* 
He ceas'd; nor made the pensive Queen 

reply, 170 

But droop'd her head, and drew a secret 

sigh. 
When Theoclymenus the seer began : 
*0 suff'ring consort of the suff'ring man! 
What human knowledge could, those Kings 

might tell. 
But I the secrets of high Heav'n reveal. 
Before the first of Gods be this declared. 
Before the board whose blessings we have 

shared; 
Witness the genial rites, and witness all 
This house holds sacred in her ample 

wall! 



THE ODYSSEY 



605 



Ev'n now, this instant, great Ulysses, 

laid 180 

At rest, or wand'ring in bis country's shade, 
Their guilty deeds, in hearing, and in view, 
Secret revolves; and plans the vengeance 

due. 
Of this sure auguries the Gods bestow'd. 
When first our vessel anchor'd in your 

road.' 
' Succeed those omens, Heav'n ! ' (the 

Queen rejoin'd) 
' So shall our bounties speak a grateful 

mind : 
And every envied happiness attend 
The man who calls Penelope his friend.' 
Thus communed they: while in the mar- 
ble court 190 
(Scene of their insolence) the lords resort; 
Athwart the spacious square each tries his 

art. 
To whirl the disk, or aim the missile dart. 

Now did the hour of sweet repast arrive. 
And from the field the victim flocks they 

drive : 
Medon the Herald (one who pleas'd them 

best, 
And honour'd with a portion of their feast). 
To bid the banquet, interrupts their play : 
Swift to the hall they haste; aside they 

lay 
Their garments, and succinct the victims 

slay. 200 

Then sheep, and goats, and bristly porkers 

bled. 
And the proud steer was o'er the marble 

spread. 
While thus the copious banquet they 

provide. 
Along the road, conversing side by side. 
Proceed Ulysses and the faithful swain: 
When thus Eumseus, gen'rous and humane: 
' To town, observant of our lord's behest. 
Now let us speed: my friend, no more my 

guest ! 
Yet like myself I wish thee here preferr'd. 
Guard of the flock, or keeper of the herd. 210 
But much to raise my master's wrath I 

fear; 
The wrath of Princes ever is severe. 
Then heed his will, and be our journey ' 

made 
While the broad beams of Phoebus are 

display'd. 
Or ere brown ev'ning spreads her chilly 

shade.' 



* Just thy advice ' (the prudent Chief re- 

join'd), 
* And such as suits the dictate of my mind. 
Lead on: but help me to some staff to stay 
My feeble step, since rugged is the way.' 
Across his shoulders then the scrip he 

flung, 220 

Wide-patch'd, and fasten'd by a twisted 

thong. 
A staff Eumseus gave. Along the way 
Cheerly they fare : behind, the keepers 

stay; 
These with their watchful dogs (a constant 

guard) 
Supply his absence, and attend the herd. 
And now his city strikes the Monarch's eyes, 
Alas! how changed! a man of miseries; 
Propp'd on a staff, a beggar old and bare, 
In rags dishonest flutt'ring with the air ! 
Now, pass'd the rugged road, they journey 

down 230 

The cavern'd way descending to the town. 
Where, from the rock, with liquid drops 

distils 
A limpid fount, that, spread in parting 

rills. 
Its current thence to serve the city brings ; 
A useful work, adorn'd by ancient kings. 
Neritus, Ithacus, Polyctor, there, 
In sculptured stone immortalized their 

care ; 
In marble urns receiv'd it from above. 
And shaded with a green surrounding 

grove; 239 

Where silver alders, in high arches twin'd. 
Drink the cool stream, and tremble to the 

wind. 
Beneath, sequester'd to the nymphs, is seen 
A mossy altar, deep erabower'd in green ; 
Where constant vows by travellers are paid, 
And holy horrors solemnize the shade. 
Here, with his goats (not vow'd to sacred 

flame, 
But pamper' d luxury), Melan thins came: 
Two grooms attend him. With an envious 

look 
He eyed the stranger, and imperious spoke: 

* The good old proverb how this pair 

fulfil I 250 

One rogue is usher to another still. 
Heav'n with a secret principle endued 
Mankind, to seek their own similitude. 
Where goes the swineherd with that ill- 

look'd guest ? 
That giant glutton, dreadful at a feast! 



6o6 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Full many a post have those broad shoul- 
ders worn, 
From ev'ry great man's gate repuls'd with 

scorn: 
To no brave prize aspired the worthless 

swain, 
'T was but for scraps he ask'd, and ask'd in 

vain. 259 

To beg, than work, he better understands; 
Or we perhaps might take him off thy 

hands. 
For any office could the slave be good, 
To cleanse the fold, or help the kids to 

food, 
If any labour those big joints could learn, 
Some whey, to wash his bowels, he might 

earn. 
To cringe, to whine, his idle hands to 

spread. 
Is all by which that graceless maw is fed. 
Yet hear me! if thy impudence but dare 
Approach yon walls, I prophesy thy fare: 
Dearly, full dearly, shalt thou buy thy 

bread 270 

With many a footstool thund'ring at thy 

head.' 
He thus: nor insolent of word alone, 
Spurn'd with his rustic heel his King un- 
known ; 
Spurn'd, but not mov'd: he like a pillar 

stood. 
Nor stirr'd an inch, contemptuous, from the 

road: 
Doubtful, or with his staff to strike him 

dead, 
Or greet the pavement with his worthless 

head. 
Short was that doubt ; to quell his rage 

inured, 
The hero stood self-conquer'd, and en- 
dured. 279 
But hateful of the wretch, Eumseus heav'd 
His hands obtesting, and this prayer con- 

ceiv'd: 
* Daughters of Jove! who from th' ethereal 

bowers 
Descend to swell the springs, and feed the 

flowers! 
Nymphs of this fountain! to whose sacred 

names 
Our rural victims mount in blazing flames! 
To whom Ulysses' piety preferr'd 
The yearly firstlings of his flock, and herd; 
Succeed my wish, your votary restore: 
Oh, be some God his convoy to our shore I 



Due pains shall punish then this slave's 
offence, 290 

And humble all his airs of insolence. 

Who, proudly stalking, leaves the herds at 
large, 

Commences courtier, and neglects his 
charge.' 
' What mutters he ? ' (Melanthius sharp 
rejoins) 

' This crafty miscreant big with dark de- 
signs ? 

The day shall come; nay, 'tis already 
near. 

When, slave! to sell thee at a price too 
dear 

Must be my care ; and hence transport thee 
o'er, 

A load and scandal to this happy shore. 

Oh that as surely great Apollo's dart, 300 

Or some brave suitor's sword, might pierce 
the heart 

Of the proud son, as that we stand this hour 

In lasting safety from the father's power! * 
So spoke the wretch, but, shunning 
farther fray, 

Turn'd his proud step, and left them on 
their way. 

Straight to the feastful palace he repair'd. 

Familiar enter'd, and the banquet shared; 

Beneath Eurymachus, his patron lord. 

He took his place, and plenty heap'd the 
board. 
Meantime they heard, soft-circling in the 
sky, ^ 310 

Sweet airs ascend, and heav'uly minstrelsy 

(For Phemius to the lyre attuned the 
strain) : 

Ulysses hearken'd, then address'd the 
swain : 
' Well may this palace admiration claim. 

Great, and respondent to the master's 
fame! 

Stage above stage th' imperial structure 
stands. 

Holds the chief honours, and the town com- 
mands: 

High walls and battlements the courts in- 
close. 

And the strong gates defy a host of foes. 

Far other cares its dwellers now employ; 330 

The throng'd assembly and the feast of 

joy: 
I see the smokes of sacrifice aspire. 
And hear (what graces ev'ry feast) the 

lyre.' 



THE ODYSSEY 



607 



Then thus Eumaeus : * Judge we which 

were best: 
Amidst yon revellers a sudden guest 
Choose you to mingle, while behind I 

stay? 
Or I first ent'ring introduce the way ? 
Wait for a space without, but wait not 

long; 
This is the house of violence and wrong: 
Some rude insult thy rev'rend age may 

bear; 330 

For like their lawless lords the servants 

are.' 
* Just is, O Friend ! thy caution, and 

address'd ' 
(Replied the Chief) 'to no unheedf ul breast: 
The wrongs and injuries of base mankind 
Fresh to my sense, and always in my mind. 
The bravely-patient to no fortune yields: 
On rolling oceans, and in fighting fields, 
Storms have I pass'd, and many a stern 

debate; 
And now in humbler scene submit to Fate. 
What can not Want ? The best she will 

expose, 340 

And I am learn'd in all her train of woes; 
She fills with navies, hosts, and loud alarms 
The sea, the land, and shakes the world 

with arms!' 
Thus near the gates conferring as they 

drew, 
Argus, the dog, his ancient master knew; 
He, not unconscious of the voice and tread. 
Lifts to the sound his ear, and rears his 

head; 
Bred by Ulysses, nourish'd at his board. 
But ah! not fated long to please his lord! 
To him, his swiftness and his strength 

were vain; 350 

The voice of glory call'd him o'er the main. 
Till then in ev'ry sylvan chase renown'd. 
With Argus, Argus, rung the woods 

around: 
With him the youth pursued the goat or 

fawn. 
Or traced the mazy lev'ret o'er the lawn. 
Now left to man's ingratitude he lay, 
Unhous'd, neglected in the public way; 
And where on heaps the rich manure was 

spread. 
Obscene with reptiles, took his sordid bed. 
He knew his lord; he knew, and strove 

to meet; 360 

In vain he strove to crawl and kiss his 

feet; 



Yet (all he could) his tail, his ears, his 

eyes 
Salute his master, and confess his joys. 
Soft pity touch'd the mighty master's soul; 
Adown his cheek a tear unbidden stole. 
Stole unperceiv'd; he turn'd his head and 

dried 
The drop humane; then thus impassion'd 

cried : 
' What noble beast in this abandon' d 

state 
Lies here all helpless at Ulysses' gate ? 
His bulk and beauty speak no vulgar 

praise: 370 

If, as he seems, he was in better days. 
Some care his age deserves; or was he 

prized 
For worthless beauty ? therefore now de- 
spised: 
Such dogs and men there are, mere things 

of state: 
And always cherish'd by their friends, the 

great.' 
*Not Argus so ' (Eumseus thus rejoin'd), 
' But serv'd a master of a nobler kind. 
Who never, never shall behold him more! 
Long, long since perish'd on a distant 

shore ! 
Oh had you seen him, vig'rous, bold, and 

young, 380 

Swift as a stag, and as a lion strong: 
Him no fell savage on the plain withstood, 
None 'scaped him bosom'd in the gloomy 

wood: 
His eye how piercing, and his scent how 

true. 
To wind the vapour in the tainted dew! 
Such, when Ulysses left his natal coast; 
Now years unnerve him, and his lord is 

lost! 
The women keep the gen'rous creature 

bare, 
A sleek and idle race is all their care: 
The master gone, the servants what re- 
strains ? 390 
Or dwells humanity where riot reigns ? 
Jove fix'd it certain, that whatever day 
Makes man a slave, takes half his worth 

away.' 
This said, the honest herdsman strode 

before: 
The musing Monarch pauses at the door: 
The dog, whom Fate had granted to behold 
His lord, when twenty tedious years had 

roll'd, 



6o8 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Takes a last look, and, having seen him, dies: 
So closed for ever faithful Argus' eyes! 

And now Telemachus, the first of all, 400 
Observ'd Eumaeus ent'ring in the hall; 
Distant he saw, across the shady dome; 
Then gave a sign, and beckon'd him to 

come. 
There stood an empty seat, where late was 

placed, 
In order due, the steward of the feast 
(Who now was busied carving round the 

board) ; 
Eumaeus took, and placed it near his lord. 
Before him instant was the banquet spread. 
And the bright basket piled with loaves of 

bread; 
Next came Ulysses lowly at the door, 410 
A figure despicable, old, and poor, 
In squalid vests, with many a gaping rent, 
Propp'd on a staff, and trembling as he went. 
Then resting on the threshold of the gate. 
Against a cypress pillar lean'd his weight 
(Smooth'd by the workman to a polish'd 

plane) ; 
The thoughtful son beheld, and call'd his 

swain : 
* These viands, and this bread, Eumseus ! 

bear, 
And let yon mendicant our plenty share : 
Then let him circle round the suitors' 

board, 420 

And try the bounty of each gracious lord. 
Bold let him ask, encouraged thus by me; 
How ill, alas ! do want and shame agree ! ' 
His lord's command the faithful servant 

bears : 
The seeming beggar answers with his 

prayers: 
* Bless'd be Telemachus ! in ev'ry deed 
Inspire him, Jove ! in ev'ry wish succeed! ' 
This said, the portion from his son convey 'd 
With smiles receiving on his scrip he laid. 
Long as the minstrel swept the sounding 

wire, ^ 430 

He fed, and ceas'd when silence held the 

lyre. 
Soon as the suitors from the banquet rose, 
Minerva prompts the man of mighty woes 
To tempt their bounties with a suppliant's 

art, 
And learn the gen'rous from th' ignoble 

heart 
(Not but his soul, resentful as humane. 
Dooms to full vengeance all th' offending 

train); 



With speaking eyes, and voice of plaintive 
sound. 

Humble he moves, imploring all around. 

The proud feel pity, and relief bestow, 440 

With such an image touch'd of human 
woe; 

Inquiring all, their wonder they confess, 

And eye the man, majestic in distress. 
While thus they gaze and question with 
their eyes. 

The bold Melanthius to their thought re- 
plies: 

* My lords ! this stranger of gigantic port 
The good Eumjeus usher'd to your court. 
Full well I mark'd the features of his face, 
Tho' all unknown his clime, or noble race.' 

' And is this present, swineherd ! of thy 

hand ? 450 

Bring'st thou these vagrants to infest the 

land ? ' 
(Returns Antinous with retorted eye) 
' Objects uncouth, to check the genial joy ? 
Enough of these our court already grace, 
Of giant stomach, and of famish'd face. 
Such guests Eumseus to his country brings, 
To share our feast, and lead the life of 
Kings.' 
To whom the hospitable swain rejoin'd: 

* Thy passion. Prince, belies thy knowing 

mind. 459 

Who calls, from distant nations to his own, 
The poor, distinguish'd by their wants 

alone ? 
Round the wide world are sought those 

men divine 
Who public structures raise, or who de- 
sign; 
Those to whose eyes the Gods their ways 

reveal. 
Or bless with salutary arts to heal; 
But chief to poets such respect belongs, 
By rival nations courted for their songs: 
These states invite, and mighty Kings ad- 
mire. 
Wide as the sun displays his vital fire. 469 
It is not so with want ! how few that feed 
A wretch unhappy, merely for his need ! 
Unjust to me, and all that serve the state, 
To love Ulysses is to raise thy hate. 
For me, suffice the approbation won 
Of my great mistress, and her godlike son.' 

To him Telemachus: ' No inore incense 
The man by nature prone to insolence; 
Injurious minds just answers but provoke: ' 
Then, turning to AntinoUs, thus he spoke : 



THE ODYSSEY 



609 



* Thanks to thy care ! whose absolute com- 

mand 480 

Thus drives the stranger from our court 

and land. 
Heav'n bless its owner with a better mind ! 
From envy free, to charity inclin'd. 
This both Penelope and I afford: 
Then, Prince ! be bounteous of Ulysses' 

board. 
To give another's is thy hand so slow ? 
So much more sweet to spoil than to be- 
stow ? ' 
* Whence, great Telemachus ! this lofty 

strain ? ' 
(AntinoUs cries with insolent disdain) 
' Portions like mine if ev'ry suitor gave, 490 
Our walls this twelvemonth should not see 

the slave.' 
He spoke, and lifting high above the 

board 
His pond'rous footstool, shook it at his 

lord. 
The rest with equal hand conferr'd the "" 

bread ; 
He fiU'd his scrip, and to the threshold 

sped; 
But first before AntinoUs stopp'd, and said : 

* Bestow, my Friend ! thou dost not seem 

the worst 
Of all the Greeks, but prince-like and the 

first; 
Then, as in dignity, be first in worth, 
And I shall praise thee thro' the boundless 

earth. 500 

Once I enjoy'd in luxury of state 
Whate'er gives man the envied name of 

great; 
Wealth, servants, friends, were mine in 

better days; 
And hospitality was then my praise ; 
In ev'ry sorrowing soul I pour'd delight. 
And Poverty stood smiling in my sight. 
But Jove, all-governing, whose only will 
Determines Fate, and mingles good with 

Sent me (to punish my pursuit of gain) 509 
With roving pirates o'er th' Egyptian 

main: 
By ^Egypt's silver flood our ships we moor; 
Our spies commission'd straight the coast 

explore ; 
But, impotent of mind, with lawless will 
The country ravage and the natives kill. 
The spreading clamour to their city flies. 
And horse and foot in mingled tumult rise: 



The redd'ning dawn reveals the hostile 

fields 
Horrid with bristly spears, and gleaming 

shields: 
Jove thunder'd on their side: our guilty' 

head 
We turn'd to flight; the gath'ring ven- 
geance spread 520 
On all parts round, and heaps on heaps 

lay dead. 

Some few the foe in servitude detain; 
Death ill-exchanged for bondage and for 

pain ! 
Unhappy me a Cyprian took aboard, 
And gave to Dmetor, Cyprus' haughty 

lord: 
Hither, to 'scape his chains, my course I 

steer, 
Still curs'd by fortune, and insulted here ! ' 
To whom AntinoUs thus his rage ex- 

press'd : 
' What God has plagued us with this gor- 

mand guest ? 
Unless at distance. Wretch ! thou keep "1 

behind, 530 I 

Another isle, than Cyprus more unkind, [ 
Another -^gypt, shalt thou quickly find, j 
From all thou begg'st, a bold audacious 

slave; 
Nor all can give so much as thou canst 

crave. 
Nor wonder I at such profusion shown ; 
Shameless they give, who give what 's not 

their own.' 
The Chief, retiring, * Souls, like that in 

thee, 
111 suit such forms of grace and dignity. 538 
Nor will that hand to utmost need afford 
The smallest portion of a wasteful board. 
Whose luxury whole patrimonies sweeps. 
Yet starving want, amidst the riot, weeps.' 
The haughty suitor with resentment burns, 
And, sourly smiling, this reply returns: 
* Take that, ere yet thou quit this princely ' 

throng; 
And dumb for ever be thy sland'rous 

tongue ! ' 
He said, and high the whirling tripod 

flung. 
His shoulder-blade receiv'd th' ungentle 

shock: 
He stood, and moved not, like a marble rock; 
But shook his thoughtful head, nor more 

complain'd, 550 

Sedate of soul, bis character sustain'd, 



r 



6io 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



And inly form'd revenge : then back with- 
drew: 

Before his feet the well-fill'd scrip he 
threw, 

And thus wdth semblance mild address'd 
the crew: 

* May what I speak your princely minds 
approve, 

Ye Peers and Rivals in this noble love ! 

Not for the hurt I grieve, but for the cause. 

If, when the sword our country's quarrel 
draws, 

Or if, defending what is justly dear. 

From Mars impartial some broad wound 
we bear, 560 

The gen'rous motive dignifies the scar. 

But for mere want, how hard to suffer 
wrong ! 

Want brings enough of other ills along ! 

Yet, if unjustice never be secure. 

If fiends revenge, and Gods assert the 
poor, 

Death shall lay low the proud aggressor's 
head. 

And make the dust Antinoiis' bridal bed.' 
' Peace, wretch ! and eat thy bread with- 
out offence ' 

(The suitor cried), * or force shall drag thee 
hence, 

Scourge thro' the public street, and cast 
thee there, 570 

A mangled carcass for the hounds to tear.' 
His furious deed the gen'ral anger 
mov'd; 

All, ev'n the worst, condemn'd: and some 
reprov'd. 

*Was ever Chief for wars like these re- 
nown 'd ? 

Ill fits the stranger and the poor to wound. 

Unbless'd thy hand, if, in this low dis- 
guise. 

Wander, perhaps, some inmate of the 
skies: 

They (curious oft of mortal actions) deign 

In forms like these to round the earth and 
main. 

Just and unjust recording in their mind, 580 

And with sure eyes inspecting all man- 
kind.' 
Telemachus, absorb'd in thought severe, 

Nourish'd deep anguish, tho' he shed no 
tear; 

But the dark brow of silent sorrow shook: 

While thus his mother to her virgins 
spoke: 



' On him and his may the briglit God of 

Day 
That base inhospitable blow repay ! ' 
The nurse replies : ' If Jove receives my 

prayer. 
Not one survives to breathe to-morrow's 

air.' 

* All, all are foes, and mischief is their 

end; 590 

Antinoiis most to gloomy death a friend ' 
(Replies the Queen) : ' the stranger begg'd 

their grace. 
And melting pity soften'd ev'ry face; 
From ev'ry other hand redress he found. 
But fell Antinoiis answer'd with a wound.' 
Amidst her maids thus spoke the prudent 

Queen, 
Then bade Eumseus call the pilgrim in. 
' Much of th' experienc'd man I long to 

hear, 
If or his certain eye, or list'ning ear. 
Have learn'd the fortunes of my wand'ring 

lord ? ' 600 

Thus she, and good Eumseus took the 

word: 

* A private audience if thy grace im- 

part, 
The stranger's words may ease the royal 

heart. 
His sacred eloquence in balm distils. 
And the soothed heart with secret pleasure 

fills. 
Three days have spent their beams, three 

nights have run 
Their silent journey* since his tale begun, 
Unfinish'd yet; and yet I thirst to hear ! 
As when some Heav'n-taught poet charms 

the ear 
(Suspending sorrow with celestial strain 610 
Breathed from the Gods to soften human 

pain). 
Time steals away with unregarded wing. 
And the soul hears him, tho' he cease to 

sing. 

* Ulysses late he saw, on Cretan ground 
(His father's guest), for Minos' birth re- 

nown'd. 
He now but waits the wind, to waft him 

o'er. 
With boundless treasure, from Thesprotia's 

shore.' 
To this the Queen: 'The wand'rer let 

me hear. 
While yon luxurious race indulge their 

cheer, 619 



THE ODYSSEY 



6ii 



Devour the grazing ox, and browsing 

goat, 
And turn my gen'rous vintage down their 

throat. 
For where 's an arm, like thine, Ulysses ! 

strong, 
To curb wild riot, and to punish wrong ? ' 
She spoke. Telemachus then sneez'd 

aloud; 
Constrain'd, his nostril echoed thro' the 

crowd. 
The smiling Queen the happy omen bless'd: 

* So may these impious fall, by Fate op- 

press'd ! ' 

Then to Eumseus: * Bring the stranger, 
fly! 

And if my questions meet a true reply. 

Graced with a decent robe he shall re- 
tire, 630 

A gift in season which his wants require.' 
Thus spoke Penelope. Eumseus flies 

In duteous haste, and to Ulysses cries: 

* The Queen invites thee, venerable Guest! 
A secret instinct moves her troubled 

breast. 
Of her long absent lord from thee to 

gain 
Some light, and soothe her soul's eternal 

pain. 
If true, if faithful thou, her grateful mind 
Of decent robes a present has design'd: 
So finding favour in the royal eye, 640 

Thy other wants her subjects shall supply.' 

* Fair truth alone ' (the patient man re- 

plied) 

* My words shall dictate, and my lips shall 

guide. 
To him, to me, one common lot was giv'n. 
In equal woes, alas ! involv'd by Heav'n. 
Much of his fates I know: but check'd by 

fear 
I stand; the hand of violence is here: 
Here boundless wrongs the starry skies in- 
vade. 
And injured suppliants seek in vain for 

aid. 
Let for a space the pensive Queen at- 
tend, 650 
Nor claim my story till the sun descend; 
Then in such robes as suppliants may re- 
quire. 
Composed and cheerful by the genial fire, 
When loud uproar and lawless riot cease. 
Shall her pleas'd ear receive my words in 
peace.' 



Swift to the Queen returns the gentle 

swain: 
* And say ' (she cries), ' does fear, or shame, 

detJiin 
The cautious stranger ? With the begging 

kind 
Shame suits but ill.' Eumaeus thus re- 

join'd: 659 

* He only asks a more propitious hour, 
And shuns (who would not ?) wicked men 

in power; 
At ev'ning mild (meet season to confer). 
By turns to question, and by turns to 

hear.' 

* Whoe'er this guest ' (the prudent 

Queen replies), 

' His ev'ry step and ev'ry thought is wise. 

For men like these on earth he shall not 
find 

In all the miscreant race of human kind.' 
Thus she. Eumseus all her words at- 
tends. 

And, parting, to the suitor powers de- 
scends; 669 

There seeks Telemachus, and thus apart 

In whispers breathes the fondness of his 
heart: 
' The time, my lord, invites me to re- 
pair 

Hence to the lodge; my charge demands 
my care. 

These sons of murder thirst thy life to 
take; 

O guard it, guard it, for thy servants' 
sake ! ' 

* Thanks to my friend ' (he cries) ; * but 

now the hour 
Of night draws on; go seek the rural 

bower: 
But first refresh; and at the dawn of 

day 
Hither a victim to the Gods convey. 
Our life to Heav'n's immortal Powers we 

trust, 680 

Safe in their care, for Heav'n protects the 

just.' 
Observant of his voice, Eumaeus sate, 
And fed recumbent on a chair of state. 
Then instant rose, and, as he mov'd along, 
'T was riot all amid the suitor throng: 
They feast, they dance, and raise the 

mirthful song. 
Till now, declining toward the close of 

day. 
The sun obliquely shot his dewy ray. 



6l2 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



BOOK XXI 

THE BENDING OF ULYSSES' BOW 
ARGUMENT 

Penelope, to put an end to the solicitations of 
the suitors, proposes to marry the person 
who shall first bend the bow of Ulysses, and 
shoot through the ringlets. After their at- 
tempts have proved ineffectual, Ulysses, tak- 
ing Eumagus and Philagtius apart, discovers 
himself to them; then returning, desires leave 
to try his strength at the bow, which, though 
refused with indignation by the suitors, Pe- 
nelope and Telemachus cause to be delivered 
to his hands. He bends it immediately, and 
shoots through all the rings. Jupiter at the 
same instant thunders from heaven ; Ulysses 
accepts the omen, and gives a sign to Tele- 
machus, who stands ready armed at his side. 

And Pallas now, to raise the rivals' fires, 
With her own art Penelope inspires: 
Who now can bend Ulysses' bow, and wing 
The well-aim'd arrow thro' the distant ring, 
Shall end the strife, and win th' imperial 

dame ; 
But discord and black death await the 

game ! 
The prudent Queen the lofty stair as- 
cends; 
At distance due a virgin-train attends : 
A brazen key she held, the handle turn'd, 
With steel and polish'd elephant adorn'd: lo 
Swift to the inmost room she bent her way, 
Where, safe reposed, the royal treasures lay; 
There shone high heap'd the labour' d brass 

and ore, 
And there the bow which great Ulysses 

bore; 
And there the quiver, where no-w guiltless 

slept 
Those winged deaths that many a matron 

wept. 
This gift, long since when Sparta's shores 

he trod. 
On young Ulysses Iphitus bestow'd : 
Beneath Orsilochus's roof they met; 
One loss was private, one a public debt; 20 
Messena's state from Ithaca detains 
Three hundred sheep, and all the shepherd 

swains ; 
And to the youthful Prince to urge the 

laws, 
The King and elders trust their common 

cause. 



But Iphitus, employ'd on other cares, 
Search'd the wide country for his wand'ring 

mares, 
And mules, the strongest of the lab'ring 

kind; 
Hapless to search! more hapless still to find! 
For journeying on to Hercules, at length 
That lawless wretch, that man of brutal 
strength, 30 

Deaf to Heav'n's voice, the social rite trans- 

gress'd; 
And for the beauteous mares destroy'd his 

guest. 
He gave the bow; and on Ulysses' part 
Receiv'd a pointed sword, and missile dart: 
Of luckless friendship on a foreign shore 
Their first, last pledges ! for they met no 

more. 
The bow, bequeath'd by this unhappy 

hand, 
Ulysses bore not from his native land; 
Nor in the front of battle taught to bend, 
But kept in dear memorial of his friend. 40 

Now, gently winding up the far ascent, 
By many an easy step, the matron went; 
Then o'er the pavement glides with grace 

divine 
(With polish'd oak the level pavements 

shine); 
The folding gates a dazzling light display'd, 
With pomp of various architrave o'erlaid. 
The bolt, obedient to the silken string. 
Forsakes the staple as she pulls the ring; 
The wards respondent to the key turn 

round; 
The bars fall back; the flying valves re- 
sound; 50 
Loud as a bull makes hill and valley ring. 
So roar'd the lock when it releas'd the 

spring. 
She moves majestic thro' the wealthy room. 
Where treasured garments cast a rich per- 
fume; 
There from the column, where aloft it 

hung, 
Reach'd, in its splendid case, the bow un- 
strung ; 
Across her knees she laid the well-known 

bow, 
And pensive sate, and tears began to flow. 
To full satiety of grief she mourns, 
Then silent to the joyous hall returns; 60 
To the proud suitors bears in pensive state 
Th' unbended bow, and arrows wiug'd with 
fate. 



THE ODYSSEY 



613 



Behind, her train the polish'd coffer 
brings, 

Which held th' alternate brass and silver 
rings. 

Full in the portal the chaste Queen ap- 
pears, 

And with her veil conceals the coming 
tears : 

On either side awaits a virgin fair; 

While thus the matron, with majestic air : 

* Say you, whom these forbidden walls 

inclose. 
For whom my victims bleed, my vintage 

flows, 70 

If these neglected, faded charms can 

move ? 
Or is it but a vain pretence you love ? 
If I the prize, if me you seek to wife, 
Hear the conditions, and commence the 

strife. 
Who first Ulysses' wondrous bow shall 

bend. 
And thro' twelve ringlets the fleet arrow 

send, 
Him will I follow, and forsake my home, 
For him forsake this lov'd, this wealthy 

dome. 
Long, long the scene of all my past delight, 
And still to last the vision of my night! ' 80 
Graceful she said, and bade Eumseus 

show 
The rival Peers the ringlets and the bow. 
From his full eyes the tears unbidden 

spring, 
Touch'd at the dear memorials of his King. 
Philsetius too relents, but secret shed 
The tender drops. Antinoiis saw, and 

said : 

* Hence to your fields, ye Rustics ! hence 

awajs 
Nor stain with grief the pleasures of the 

day : 
Nor to the royal heart recall in vain 
The sad remembrance of a perish'd man. 90 
Enough her precious tears already flow : "] 
Or share the feast with due respect, or go > 
To weep abroad, and leave to us the bow: J 
No vulgar task! Ill suits this courtly crew 
That stubborn horn which brave Ulysses 

drew. 
I well remember (for I gazed him o'er 
While yet a child), what majesty he bore! 
And still (all infant as I was) retain 
The port, the strength, the grandeur of the 

man.' 99 



He said, but in his soul fond joys arise, 
And his proud hopes already win the prize, 
To speed the flying shaft thro' ev'ry ' 

ring, 
Wretch ! is not thine : the arrows of the 

King 
Shall end those hopes, and fate is on the 

wing ! 
Then thus Telemachus : ' Some God I 

find 
With pleasing frenzy has possess'd my 

mind; 
When a lov'd mother threatens to depart. 
Why with this ill-timed gladness leaps my 

heart ? 
Come then, ye suitors ! and dispute a 

prize 
Richer than all th' Achaian state sup- 
plies, no 
Than all proud Argos or Mycsene knows, 
Than all our isles or continents inclose : 
A woman matchless, and almost divine, 
Fit for the praise of ev'ry tongue but mine. 
No more excuses then, no more delay; 
Haste to the trial — Lo ! I lead the way. 

* I too may try, and if this arm can wing 
The feather'd arrow thro' the destin'd 

ring. 
Then, if no happier knight the conquest 

boast, 
I shall not sorrow for a mother lost; 120 
But, bless'd in her, possess these arms 

alone. 
Heir of my father's strength, as well as 

throne.' 
He spoke; then, rising, his broad sword 

unbound. 
And cast his purple garment on the ground. 
A trench he open'd; in a line he placed 
The level axes, and the points made fast. 
(His perfect skill the woud'ring gazers 

eyed. 
The game as yet unseen, as yet untried.) 
Then, with a manly pace, he took his stand, 
And grasp'd the bow, and twang'd it in his 

hand. 130 

Three times, with beating heart, he made 

essay; 
Three times, unequal to the task, gave way; 
A modest boldness on his cheek appear'd; 
And thrice he hoped, and thrice again he 

fear'd. 
The fourth had drawn it. The great Sire 

with joy 
Beheld, but with a sign forbade the boy. 



6i4 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



His ardour straight th' obedient Prince 

suppress'd, 
And, artful, thus the suitor-train address'd : 
* O lay the cause on youth yet immature 
(For Heav'n forbid such weakness should 

endure) ! 140 

How shall this arm, unequal to the bow, 
Retort an insult, or repel a foe ? 
But you ! whom Heav'n with better nerves 

has bless'd, 
Accept the trial, and the prize contest.' 

He cast the bow before him, and apart 
Against the polish'd quiver propp'd the 

darto 
Resuming then his seat, Eupithes' son, 
The bold Antinous, to the rest begun: 

* From where the goblet first begins to flow, 
From right to left in order take the bow; 
And prove your sev'ral strengths.' — The 

Princes heard, 151 

And first Leiodes, blameless priest, ap- 

pear'd: 
The eldest born of CEnops' noble race, 
Who next the goblet held his holy place; 
He, only he, of all the suitor throng, 
Their deeds detested, and abjured the 

wrong. 
With tender hands the stubborn horn he 

strains, 
The stubborn horn resisted all his pains ! 
Already in despair he gives it o'er: 

* Take it who will ' (he cries), * I strive no 

more. 160 

What numerous deaths attend this fatal 

bow ! 
What souls and spirits shall it send below ! 
Better, indeed, to die, and fairly give 
Nature her debt, than disappointed live. 
With each new sun to some new hope a 

.prey, 
Yet still to-morrow falser than to-day. 
How long in vain Penelope we sought ! 
This bow shall ease us of that idle thought, 
And send us with some humbler wife to 

live. 
Whom gold shall gain, or destiny shall 

give.' 170 

Thus speaking, on the floor the bow he 

placed 
(With rich inlay the various floor was 

graced) ; 
At distance far the feather'd shaft he 

throws. 
And to the seat returns from whence he 

rose. 



To him Antinoiis thus with fury said: 
* What words ill-omen'd from thy lips have 

fled? 
Thy coward-function ever is in fear; 
Those arms are dreadful which thou canst 

not bear. 
Why should this bow be fatal to the brave, 
Because the priest is boru a peaceful 

slave ? 180 

Mark then what others can.' He ended 

there. 
And bade Melanthius a vast pile prepare; 
He gives it instant flame, then fast beside 
Spreads o'er an ample board a bullock's 

hide. 
With melted lard they soak the weapon 

o'er. 
Chafe ev'ry knot, and supple ev'ry pore. 
Vain all their art, and all their strength as 

vain : 
The bow inflexible resists their pain. 
The force of great Eurymachus alone, 189 
And bold Antinous, yet untried, unknown. 
Those only now remain'd; but those con- 

fess'd 
Of all the train the mightiest and the best. 
Then from the hall, and from the noisy 

crew, 
The masters of the herd and flock with- 
drew. 
The King observes them; he the hall for- 
sakes, 
And past the limits of the court o'ertakes. 
Then thus with accent mild Ulysses spoke: 
' Ye faithful g^lardians of the herd and 

flock! 
Shall I the secret of my breast conceal, 199 
Or (as my soul now dictates) shall I tell ? 
Say, should some fav'ring God restore 

again 
The lost Ulysses to his native reign, 
How beat your hearts ? what aid would 

you afford 
To the proud suitors, or your ancient 

lord ? ' 
Philsetius thus: ' O were thy word not 

vain ! 
Would mighty Jove restore that man 

again ! 
These aged sinews, with new vigour strung, 
In his blest cause should emulate the 

young.' 
With equal vows Eumseus too implor'd 
Each power above, with wishes for his 

lord. 310 



THE ODYSSEY 



6-S 



He saw their secret souls, and thus be- 
gan: 
* Those vows the Gods accord; behold the 
man ! 

Your own Ulysses ! twice ten years de- 
tain'd 

By woes and wand'rings from this hapless 
land : 

At length he comes; but comes despised, 
unknown, 

And finding faithful you, and you alone. 

All else have cast him from their very 
thought, 

Ev'n in their wishes and their prayers for- 
got ! 

Hear then, my friends: If Jove this arm 
succeed, 

And give yon impious revellers to bleed, 220 

My care shall be to bless your future lives 

With large possessions and with faithful 
wives: 

Fast by my palace shall your domes as- " 
cend. 

And each on young Telemachus attend, 

And each be call'd his brother and my 
friend. 

To give you firmer faith, now trust your 
eye; 

Lo ! the broad scar indented on my thigh. 

When with Autolycus's sons, of yore. 

On Parnass' top I chased the tusky boar.' 

His ragged vest then drawn aside, dis- 
closed 230 

The sign conspicuous, and the scar exposed; 

Eager they view'd; with joy they stood 
amazed; 

With tearful eyes o'er all their master 
gazed: 

Around his neck their longing arms they 
cast. 

His head, his shoulders, and his knees em- 
braced; 

Tears folio w'd tears; no word was in their 
power; 

In solemn silence fell the kindly shower. 

The King too weeps, the King too grasps 
their hands, 

And moveless, as a marble fountain, stands. 
Thus had their joy wept down the set- 
ting sun, 240 

But first the wise man ceas'd, and thus be- 
gun: 

* Enough — on other cares your thought 
employ. 

For danger waits on all untimely joy. 



Full many foes, and fierce, observe us near; 

Some may betray, and yonder walls may 
hear. 

Re-enter then, not all at once, but stay 

Some moments you, and let me lead the way. 

To me, neglected as I am, I know 

The haughty suitors will deny the bow; 

But thou, Eumaeus, as 't is borne away, 250 

Thy master's weapon to his hand convey. 

At ev'ry portal let some matron wait. 

And each lock fast the well-compacted 
gate: 

Close let them keep, whate'er invades their 
ear; 

Tho' arms, or shouts, or dying groans they 
hear. 

To thy strict charge, Philsetius, we consign 

The court's main gate; to guard that pass 
be thine.' 
This said, he first return'd; the faithful 
swains 

At distance follow, as their King ordains. 

Before the flame Eurymachus now stands, 

And turns the bow, and chafes it with his 
hands; 261 

Still the tough bow unmov'd. The lofty 
man 

Sigh'd from his mighty soul, and thus be- 
gan: 
*I mourn the common cause: for, oh my 
friends ! 

On me, on all, what grief, what shame at- 
tends ! 

Not the lost nuptials can affect me more 

(For Greece has beauteous dames on ev'ry 
shore). 

But baffled thus ! confess'd so far below 

Ulysses' strength, as not to bend his bow ! 

How shall all ages our attempt deride ! 270 

Our weakness scorn ! ' Antinoiis thus re- 
plied: 
* Not so, Eurymachus: that no man draws 

The wondrous bow, attend another cause. 

Sacred to Phcebus is the solemn day, 

Which thoughtless we in games would 
waste away; 

Till the next dawn this ill-timed strife 
forego. 

And here leave fix'd the ringlets in a row. 

Now bid the sewer approach, then let us 
join 

In due libations, and in rites divine; 

So end our night; before the day shall 
spring, 280 

The choicest off 'rings let Melanthius bring; 



6i6 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Let then to Phcebus' name the fatted thighs 
Feed the rich smokes, high curling to the 

skies. 
So shall the patron of these arts bestow 
(For his the gift) the skill to bend the 

bow.' 
They heard well pleas'd ; the ready 

heralds bring 
The cleansing waters from the limpid 

spring; 
The goblet high with rosy wine they 

crown'd, 
In order circling to the peers around. 
That rite complete, uprose the thoughtful 

man, 290 

And thus his meditated scheme began ; 

* If what I ask your noble minds approve. 
Ye Peers and Rivals in the royal love! 
Chief, if it hurt not great Antinoiis' ear 
(Whose sage decision I with wonder hear), 
And if Eurymachus the motion please, 
Give Heav'n this day, and rest the bow in 

peace. 
To-morrow let your arms dispute the prize. 
And take it he, the favour'd of the skies! 
But, since till then this trial you delay, 300 
Trust it one moment to my hands to-day: 
Fain would I prove, before your judging 

eyes, 
What once I was, whom wretched you de- 
spise; 
If yet this arm its ancient force retain; 
Or if my woes (a long-continued train) 
And wants and insults, make me less 

than man.' 
Rage flash'd in lightning from the suitors' 

eyes. 
Yet mix'd with terror at the bold emprise. 
Antinoiis then: ' O miserable guest! 
Is common sense quite banish'd from tliy 

breast ? 310 

Sufficed it not, within the palace placed. 
To sit distinguish'd, with our presence 

graced, 
Admitted here with Princes to confer, 
A man unknown, a needy wanderer ? 
To copious wine this insolence we owe. 
And much thy betters wine can overthrow: 
The great Eurytion when this frenzy 

stung, 
PirithoUs' roofs with frantic riot rung; 
Boundless the Centaur raged; till one and 

all 
The heroes rose, and dragg'd him from the 

hall: 320 



His nose they shorten'd, and his ears they 

slit. 
And sent him sober'd home, with better 

wit. 
Hence with long war the double race was 

curs'd 
Fatal to all, but to th' aggressor first. 
Such fate I prophesy our guest attends. 
If here this interdicted bow he bends: 
Nor shall these walls such insolence con- 
tain; 
The first fair wind transports him o'er the 

main; 
Where Echetus to death the guilty brings 
(The worst of mortals, ev'n the worst of 

Kings). ^ 330 

Better than that, if thou approve our 

cheer. 
Cease the mad strife, and share our bounty 

here.' 
To this the Queen her just dislike ex- 

press'd: 
* 'T is impious. Prince, to harm the stranger- 
guest; 
Base to insult who bears a suppliant's 

name. 
And some respect Telemachus may claim. 
What if th' Immortals on the man bestow 
Sufficient strength to draw the mighty 

bow ? 
Shall I, a Queen, by rival chiefs ador'd. 
Accept a wand'ring stranger for my 

lord ? 340 

A hope so idle never touch'd his brain: 
Then ease your bosom of a fear so vain. 
Far be he banish'd from this stately scene 
Who wrongs his Princess with a thought 

so mean.' 
* O Fair! and wisest of so fair a kind ! ' 
(Respectful thus Eurymachus rejoin'd) 
' Mov'd by no weak surmise, but sense of 

shame, 
We dread the all - arraigning voice of 

Fame: 
We dread the censure of the meanest 

slave. 
The weakest woman: all can wrong the 

brave. 350 

" Behold what wretches to the bed pre- 
tend 
Of that brave Chief, whose bow they could 

not bend! 
In came a beggar of the strolling crew, 
And did what all those Princes could not 

do." 



THE ODYSSEY 



617 



Thus will the common voice our deed de- 
fame, 
And thus posterity upbraid our name.' 
To whom the Queen: * If Fame engage 
your views, 
Forbear those acts which Infamy pursues ; 
Wrong and oppression no renown can 

raise; 
Know, Friend ! that virtue is the path to 

praise. 360 

The stature of our guest, his port, his face, 
Speak him descended from no vulgar 

race. 
To him the bow, as he desires, convey; 
And to his hand if Phoebus give the day, 
Hence, to reward his merit, he shall bear 
A two-edg'd faulchion and a shining spear, 
Embroider'd sandals, a rich cloak and 

vest, 
And safe conveyance to his port of rest.' 
* O royal Mother! ever-honour'd name! 
Permit me ' (cries Telemachus) ' to claim 
A son's just right. No Grecian Prince 

but I 371 

Has power this bow to grant, or to deny! 
Of all that Ithaca's rough hills contain, 
And all wide Elis' courser-breeding plain, 
To me alone my father's arms descend; 
And mine alone they are, to give or lend. 
Retire, O Queen! thy household task re- 
sume, 
Tend, with thy maids, the labours of thy 

loom; 
The bow, the darts, and arms of chivalry. 
These cares to man belong, and most to 

me.' 380 

Mature beyond his years, the Queen ad- 
mired 
His sage reply, and with her train retired; 
There in her chamber as she sate apart, 
Revolv'd his words, and placed them in her 

heart. 
On her Ulysses then she fix'd her soul; 
Down her fair cheek the tears abundant 

roll, 
Till gentle Pallas, piteous of her cries. 
In slumber closed her silver-streaming 

eyes. 
Now thro' the press the bow Eumseus 

bore, 
And all was riot, noise, and wild uproar. 390 
* Hold! lawless rustic! whither wilt thou 

go? 
To whom, insensate, dost thou bear the 

bow ? 



Exil'd for this to some sequester'd den, 

Far from the sweet society of men. 

To thy own dogs a prey thou shalt be 

made; 
If Heav'n and Phcebus lend the suitors 

aid.' 
Thus they. Aghast he laid the weapon 

down, 
But bold Telemachus thus urged him on: 

* Proceed, false slave, and slight their empty 

words ; 
What ! hopes the fool to please so many 

lords ? 400 

Young as I am, thy Prince's vengeful hand 
Stretch'd forth in wrath shall drive thee 

from the land. 
Oh ! could the vigour of this arm as well 
Th' oppressive suitors from my walls 

expel! 
Then what a shoal of lawless men should 

go 
To fill with tumult the dark couuts be- 
low! ' 
The suitors with a scornful smile survey 
The youth, indulging in the genial day. 
Eumseus, thus encouraged, hastes to bring 
The strifeful bow, and gives it to the 

King. 410 

Old Euryclea calling then aside, 

* Hear what Telemachus enjoins ' (he 

cried) : 

* At ev'ry portal let some matron wait, 
And each lock fast the well-compacted 

gate; 
And if unusual sounds invade their ear, 
If arms, or shouts, or dying groans they 

hear. 
Let none to call or issue forth presume, 
But close attend the labours of the loom.' 
Her prompt obedience on his order 

waits; 419 

Closed in an instant were the palace 

gates. 
In the same moment forth Philsetius flies. 
Secures the court, and with a cable ties 
The utmost gate (the cable strongly 

wrought 
Of Byblos' reed, a ship from Egypt 

brought) ; 
Then unperceiv'd and silent at the board 
His seat he takes, his eyes upon his lord. 
And now his well-known bow the Master 

bore, 
Turn'd on all sides, and view'd it o'er and 

o'er; 



6i8 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Lest time or worms had doue the weapon 

wrong, 
Its owner absent, and untried so long. 430 
While some deriding : * How he turns the 

bow ! 
Some other like it sure the man must 

know. 
Or else would copy; or in bows he deals; 
Perhaps he makes them, or perhaps he 

steals.' — 
* Heav'n to this wretch ' (another cried) ' 

' be kind ! 
And bless, in all to which he stands in- 

clin'd, 
With such good fortune as he now shall 

find.' 
Heedless he heard them: but disdaiu'd 

reply, 
The bow perusing with exactest eye. 
Then, as some heav'nly minstrel, taught to 

sing 440 

High notes responsive to the trembling 

string. 
To some new strain when he adapts the 

lyre. 
Or the dumb lute refits with vocal wire. 
Relaxes, strains, and draws them to and 

fro; 
So the great master drew the mighty bow: 
And drew with ease. One hand aloft dis- 

play'd 
The bending horns, and one the string es- 

say'd. 
From his essaying hand the string let fly 
Twang'd short and sharp like the shrill 

swallow's cry. 
A gen'ral horror ran thro' all the race, 450 
Sunk was each heart, and pale was ev'ry 

face. 
Signs from above ensued: th' unfolding sky 
In lightning burst; Jove thunder'd from on 

high. 
Fired at the call of Heav'n's almighty 

Lord, 
He snatch'd the shaft that glitter'd on the 

board 
(Fast by, the rest lay sleeping in the sheath. 
But soon to fly, the messengers of Death). 
Now, sitting as he was, the cord he drew, 
Thro' every ringlet levelling his view; 
Then notch'd the shaft, releas'd, and^ 

gave it wing; 460 

The whizzing arrow vanish'd from the y 

string. 
Sung on direct, and threaded ev'ry ring. 



The solid gate its fury scarcely bounds; 
Pierc'd thro' and thro', the solid gate re- 
sounds. 
Then to the Prince : * Nor have I wrought 

thee shame; 
Nor err'd this hand unfaithful to its aim; 
Nor prov'd the toil too hard; nor have 

Host 
That ancient vigour once my pride and 

boast. 
Ill I deserv'd these haughty Peers' disdain; 
Now let them comfort their dejected 

train, 470 

In sweet repast their present hour employ 
Nor wait till ev'ning for the genial joy: 
Then to the lute's soft voice prolong the 

night; 
Music, the banquet's most refin'd delight.' 
He said, then gave a nod; and at the 

word 
Telemachus girds on his shining sword. 
Fast by his father's side he takes his 

stand: 
The beamy jav'lin lightens in his hand. 



BOOK XXII 

THE DEATH OF THE SUITORS 
ARGUMENT 

Ulysses begins the slaughter of the suitors by 
the death of Antinoiis. He declares him- 
self, and lets fly his arrows at the rest. Tele- 
machus assists, and brings arms for his 
father, himself, Eumgeus, and Philjetius. 
Melanthius does the same for the wooers. 
Minerva encourages Ulysses in the shape of 
Mentor. The suitors are all slain, only Me- 
don and Phemius are spared. Melanthius 
and the iinfaithfial servants are executed. 
The rest acknowledge their master with all 
demonstrations of joy. 

Then fierce the Hero o'er the threshold 

strode; 
Stripp'd of his rags, he blazed out like a 

God. 
Full in their face the lifted bow he bore. 
And quiver'd deaths, a formidable store; 
Before his feet the rattling shower he 

threw. 
And thus, terrific, to the suitor-crew: 
* One venturous game this hand hath 

won to-day. 
Another, Princes ! yet remains to play; 



THE ODYSSEY 



619 



Another mark our arrow must attain. 
Phcebus, assist ! nor be the labour vain.' 10 
Swift as the word the parting arrow sings, 
And bears thy fate, Antiuous, on its 

wings: 
Wretch that he was, of unprophetic soul ! 
High in his hands he rear'd the golden 

bowl ! 
Ev*n then to drain it lengthened out his 

breath ; 
Changed to the deep, the bitter draught of 

death: 
For Fate who fear'd amidst a feastful 

band ? 
And Fate to numbers, by a single hand ? 
Full thro' his throat Ulysses' weapon 

pass'd. 
And pierc'd his neck. He falls, and 

breathes his last. 20 

The tumbling goblet the wide floor o'er- 

fiows, 
A stream of gore burst spouting from his 

nose; 
Grim in convulsive agonies he sprawls: 
Before him spurn'd the loaded table falls, 
Arid spreads the pavement with a mingled 

flood 
Of floating meats, and wine, and human 

blood. 
Amazed, confounded, as they saw him fall, 
Up rose the throngs tumultuous round the 

hall: 
O'er all the dome they cast a haggard eye, 
Each look'd for arms: in vain; no arms 

were nigh: 30 

* Aim'st thou at Princes ? ' (all amazed 

they said) 
*Thy last of games unhappy hast thou 

play'd; 
Thy erring shaft has made our bravest 

bleed. 
And Death, unlucky guest, attends thy 

deed. 
Vultures shall tear thee.' Thus incens'd 

they spoke. 
While each to chance ascribed the won- 
drous stroke, 
Blind as they were; for Death even now 

invades 
His destin'd prey, and wraps them all in 

shades. 
Then, grimly frowning, with a dreadful 

look, 
That wither'd all their hearts, Ulysses 

spoke : 40 



* Dogs, ye have had your day ! ye fear'd 

no more 
Ulysses vengeful from the Trojan shore; 
While, to your lust and spoil a guardless 

prey. 
Our house, our wealth, our helpless hand- 
maids lay: 
Not so content, with bolder frenzy fired, 
Ev'n to our bed presumptuous you aspired: 
Laws or divine or human fail'd to move. 
Or shame of men, or dread of Gods above; 
Heedless alike of infamy or praise. 
Or Fame's eternal voice in future days, 50 
The hour of vengeance, wretches, now is 

come; 
Impending fate is yours, and instant 

doom.' 
Thus dreadful he. Confused the suitors 

stood; 
From their pale cheeks recedes the flying 

blood : 
Trembling they sought their guilty heads 

to hide; 
Alone the bold Eurymachus replied: 

' If, as thy words import ' (he thus 

began), 
* Ulysses lives, and thou the mighty man. 
Great are thy wrongs, and much hast thou 

sustain'd 59 

In thy spoil'd palace, and exhausted land; 
The cause and author of those guilty 

deeds, 
Lo ! at thy feet unjust Antinoiis bleeds. 
Not love, but wild ambition was his guide; ' 
To slay thy son, thy kingdoms to divide. 
These were his aims; but juster Jove 

denied. 
Since cold in death th' offender lies, oh 

spare 
Thy suppliant people, and receive their 



prayer 



Brass, gold, and treasures, shall the spoil 

defray. 
Two hundred oxen ev'ry Prince shall pay 
The waste of years refunded in a day. 70^ 
Till then thy wrath is just.' Ulysses 

burn'd 
With high disdain, and sternly thus re- 

turn'd: 
* All, all the treasures that enrich'd our 

throne 
Before your rapines, join'd with all your 

own. 
If offer'd, vainly should for mercy call; 
'Tis you that offer, and I scorn them all: 



620 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Your blood is my demand, your lives the 

prize, 
Till pale as yonder wretch each suitor lies. 
Hence with those coward terms; or fight 

or fly; 
This choice is left you to resist or die; 80 
And die I trust ye shall.' He sternly 

spoke: 
With guilty fears the pale assembly 

shook. 
Alone Eurymachus exhorts the train: 
* Yon archer, comrades, will not shoot in 

vain ; 
But from the threshold shall his darts be 

sped 
(Whoe'er he be), till ev'ry Prince lie 

dead? 
Be mindful of yourselves, draw forth your 

swords, 
And to his shafts obtend these ample 

boards 
(So need compels). Then, all united, strive 
The bold invader from his post to drive; 90 
The city rous'd shall to our rescue haste, 
And this mad archer soon have shot his 

last.' 
Swift as he spoke, he drew his traitor 

sword, 
And like a lion rush'd against his lord : 
The wary Chief the rushing foe repress'd. 
Who met the point and forc'd it in his 

breast: 
His falling hand deserts the lifted sword, 
And prone he falls extended o'er the 

board! 
Before him wide, in mix'd effusion, roll 
Th' untasted viands, and the jovial bowl. 100 
Full thro' his liver pass'd the mortal 

wound, 
With dying rage his forehead beats the 

ground ; 
He spnrn'd the seat with fury as he fell. 
And the fierce soul to darkness dived, and 

Hell. 
Next bold Amphinomus his arms extends 
To force the pass; the godlike man de- 
fends. 
Thy spear, Telemachus, prevents th' attack; 
The brazen weapon, driving thro' his back. 
Thence thro' his breast its bloody pas-"" 

sage tore; 109 

Flat falls he thund'ring on the marble 

floor, 
And his crush'd forehead marks the 

stone with gore. 



He left his jav'lin in the dead, for fear 
The long encumbrance of the weighty 

spear 
To the fierce foe advantage might afford, 
To rush between, and use the shorten'd 

sword. 
With speedy ardour to his sire he flies, 
And, 'Arm, great Father! arm' (in haste 

he cries): 
' Lo ! hence I run for other arms to wield, 
For missive jav'lins, and for helm and 

shield; 119 

Fast by our side, let either faithful swain 
In arms attend us, and their part sustain.' 
' Haste, and return ' (Ulysses made 

reply), 
'While yet th' auxiliar shafts this hand 

supply; 
Lest thou alone, encounter'd by an host, 
Driv'n from the gate, th' important pass 

be lost.' 
With speed Telemachus obeys, and flies 
Where piled in heaps the royal armour lies; 
Four brazen helmets, eight refulgent spears, 
And four broad bucklers to his sire he 

bears : 
At once in brazen panoply they shone, 130 
At once each servant braced his armour on; 
Around their King a faithful guard they 

stand. 
While yet each shaft flew deathful from 

his hand: 
Chief after chief expired at ev'ry wound, 
And swell'd the bleeding mountain on the 

ground. 
Soon as his store of flying fates was spent, 
Against the wall he set the bow unbent; 
And now his shoulders bear the massy 

shield. 
And now his hands two beamy jav'lins 

wield: 
He frowns beneath his nodding plume, that 

play'd 140 

O'er the high crest, and cast a dreadful 

shade. 
There stood a window near, whence, 

looking down 
From o'er the porch, appear'd the subject 

town. 
A double strength of valves secured the 

place, 
A high and narrow, but the only pass: 
The cautious King, with all preventing 

care, 
To guard that outlet, placed Eumseus there: 



THE ODYSSEY 



621 



When Agelaiis thus: * Has none the sense 
To mount yon window, and alarm from 

thence 
The neighbour-town ? the town shall force 

the door, 150 

And this bold archer soon shall shoot no 

more.' 
Melanthius then: 'That outlet to the 

gate 
So near adjoins that one may guard the 

strait. 
But other methods of defence remain ; 
Myself with arms can furnish all the 

train ; 
Stores from the royal magazine I bring, 
And their own darts shall pierce the Prince 

and King.' 
He said : and mounting up the lofty 

stairs, 
Twelve shields, twelve lances, and twelve 

helmets bears: 
All arm, and sudden round the hall ap- 
pears 160 
A blaze of bucklers, and a wood of spears. 
The Hero stands oppress'd with mighty 

woe, 
On ev'ry side he sees the labour grow: 
* Oh curs'd event ! and oh unlook'd-for 

aid! 
Melanthius or the women have betray 'd — 
Oh my dear son ! ' — The father with a 

sigh 
Then ceas'd; the filial virtue made reply: 
* Falsehood is folly, and 't is just to own 
The fault committed: this was mine alone; 
My haste neglected yonder door to bar, 170 
And hence the villain has supplied their 

war. 
Run, good Eumaeus, then, and (what be- 
fore 
I thoughtless err'd in) well secure that 

door: 
Learn, if by female fraud this deed were 

done. 
Or (as my thought misgives) by Dolius' 

son.' 
While yet they spoke, in quest of arms 

again 
To the high chamber stole the faithless 

swain, 
Not unobserv'd. Eumseus watchful eyed. 
And thus address'd Ulysses near his side: 
' The miscreant we suspected takes that 

way, 180 

Him, if this arm be powerful, shall I slay ? 



Or drive him hither, to receive the meed 
From thy own hand, of this detested 

deed ? ' 
' Not so ' (replied Ulysses); 'leave him 

there. 
For us sufficient is another care: 
Within the structure of this palace wall 
To keep enclosed his masters till they fall. 
Go you, and seize the felon ; backward 

bind 
His arms and legs, and fix a plank behind; 
On this his body by strong cords ex-" 

tend, 190 

And on a column near the roof suspend: 
So studied tortures his vile days shall 

end.' 
The ready swains obey'd with joyful 

haste ; 
Behind the felon unperceiv'd they pass'd. 
As round the room in quest of arras he 

goes 
(The half-shut door conceals his lurking 

foes) 
One hand sustain'd a helm, and one the 

shield 
Which old Laertes wont in youth to wield, 
Cover'd with dust, with dryness chapp'd 

and worn, 199 

The brass corroded, and the leather torn. 
Thus laden, o'er the threshold as he stepp'd. 
Fierce on the villain from each side they 

leap'd, 
Back by the hair the trembling dastard 

drew 
And down reluctant on the pavement threw. 
Active and pleas'd the zealous swains ful- 
fil 
At every point their master's rigid will: 
First, fast behind, his hands and feet they 

bound. 
Then straiten'd cords involv'd his body 

round; 
So drawn aloft, athwart the column tied. 
The howling felon swung from side to 

side. 210 

Eumaeus scoffing then with keen disdain: 

* There pass thy pleasing night, O gentle 

swain ! 
On that soft pillow, from that envied 

height. 
First may'st thou see the springing dawn of 

light; 
So timely rise when morning streaks the 

east, 
To drive thy victims to the suitors' feast.' 



622 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



This said, they left him, tortured as he 

lay, 
Secured the door, and hasty strode away: 
Each, breathing death, resumed his dan- 
gerous post 219 
Near great Ulysses; four against an host. 
When lo! descending to her hero's aid, 
Jove's daughter Pallas, War's triumphant 

Maid; 
lu Mentor's friendly form she join'd his 

side: 
Ulysses saw, and thus with transport cried: 
' Come, ever welcome, and thy succour 

lend; 
O ev'ry sacred name in one! my Friend! 
Early we lov'd, and long our loves have 

grown ; 
Whate'er thro' life's whole series I have 

done. 
Or good, or grateful, now to mind recall, 
And, aiding this one hour, repay it all.' 230 
Thus he ; but pleasing hopes his bosom 

warm 
Of Pallas latent in the friendly form. 
The adverse host the phantom-warrior ey'd. 
And first, loud-threat'ning, Agelaiis cried: 

* Mentor, beware, nor let that tongue per- 

suade 
Thy frantic arm to lend Ulysses aid; 
Our force successful shall our threat make 

good. 
And with the sire and son's commix thy 

blood. 
What hopest thou here ? Thee first the 

sword shall slay. 
Then lop thy whole posterity away; 240 
Far hence thy banish'd consort shall we 

send ; 
With his thy forfeit lands and treasures 

blend; 
Thus, and thus only, shalt thou join thy 

friend.' 
His barb'rous insult ev'n the Goddess fires. 
Who thus the warrior to revenge inspires: 

* Art thou Ulysses ? where then shall we 

find 
The patient body and the constant mind ? 
That courage, once the Trojans' daily 

dread. 
Known nine long years, and felt by heroes 

dead? 
And where that conduct, which revenged 

the lust 250 

Of Priam's race, and laid proud Troy in 

dust? 



If this, when Helen was the cause, were 

done; 
What for thy country now, thy Queen, thy 

son ? 
Rise then in combat, at my side attend; 
Observe what vigour gratitude can lend. 
And foes how weak, opposed against a 

friend ! ' 

She spoke; but willing longer to survey 
The sire and son's great acts, withheld the 

day; 
By farther toils decreed the brave to try. 
And level pois'd the wings of victory; 260 
Then with a change of form eludes their 

sight, 
Perch'd like a swallow on a rafter's V 

height. 
And unperceiv'd enjoys the rising fight. 

Damastor's son, bold Agelaiis, leads 
The guilty war, Eury nonius succeeds; 
With these Pisander, great Polyctor's son, 
Sage Polybus, and stern Amphimedon, 
With Demoptolemus: these six survive; 
The best of all the shafts had left alive. 
Amidst the carnage, desp'rate as they 

stand, 270 

Thus Agelaiis rous'd the lagging band: 
' The hour is come, when yon fierce man 

no more 
With bleeding Princes shall bestrew the 

floor; 
Lo ! Mentor leaves him with an empty 

boast; 
The four remain, but four against an host. 
Let each at once discharge the deadly 

dart. 
One sure of six shall reach Ulysses' heart; 
Thus shall one stroke the glory lost regain: 
The rest must perish, their great leader 

slain.' 
Then all at once their mingled lances 

threw, 280 

And thirsty all of one man's blood they 

flew; 
In vain ! Minerva turn'd them with her 

breath. 
And scatter'd short, or wide, the points of 

death ! 
With deaden'd sound one on the threshold 

falls. 
One strikes the gate, one rings against the 

walls : 
The storm pass'd innocent. The godlike 

man 
Now loftier trod, and dreadful thus began: 



THE ODYSSEY 



623 



' 'T is HOW (brave friends) our turn, at once 

to throw 
(So speed them Heav'n) our jav'lins at the 

foe. 
That impious race to all their past mis- 
deeds 290 
Would add our blood. Injustice still pro- 
ceeds.' 
He spoke: at once their fiery lances flew: 
Great Demoptolemus Ulysses slew; 
Euryades receiv'd the Prince's dart; 
The goatherd's quiver'd in Pisander's 

heart; 
Fierce Elatus, by thine, Eumaeus, falls; 
Their fall in thunder echoes round the 

walls. 
The rest retreat: the victors now advance, 
Each from the dead resumes his bloody 

lance. 299 

Again the foe discharge the steely shower; 
Again made frustrate by the Virgin-Power. 
Some, turn'd by Pallas, on the threshold 

fall, 
Some wound the gate, some ring against 

the wall; 
Some weak, or pond'rous with the brazen 

head. 
Drop harmless, on the pavement sounding 

dead. 
Then bold Amphimedon his jav'lin cast; 
Thy hand, Telemachus, it lightly razed: 
And from Ctesippus' arm the spear elanc'd 
On good Eumseus' shield and shoulder 

glanc'd: 
Not lessen'd of their force (so slight the 

wound) 310 

Each sung along, and dropp'd upon the 

ground. 
Fate doom'd thee next, Eurydamas, to bear 
Thy death, ennobled by Ulysses' spear. 
By the bold son Amphimedon was slain. 
And Polybus renowu'd, the faithful swain. 
Pierc'd thro' the breast the rude Ctesippus 

bled, 
And thus Philaetius gloried o'er the dead: 
' There end thy pompous vaunts, and high 

disdain; 
O sharp in scandal, voluble, and vain ! 
How weak is mortal pride ! To Heav'n 

alone 320 

Th' event of actions and our fates are 

known: 
Scoffer, behold what gratitude we bear: 
The victim's heel is answer'd with this 

spear.' 



Ulysses brandish'd high his vengeful 

steel, 
And Damastorides that instant fell; 
Fast by, Leocritus expiring lay; 
The Prince's jav'lin tore its bloody way 
Thro' all his bowels: down he tumbles 

prone. 
His batter'd front and brains besmear the 

stone. 
Now Pallas shines confess'd; aloft she 

spreads 330 

The arm of vengeance o'er their guilty 

heads; 
The dreadful aegis blazes in their eye: 
Amazed they see, they tremble, and they 

fly: 
Confused, distracted, thro' the rooms 

they fling: 
Like oxen madden'd by the breeze's sting. 
When sultry days, and long, succeed the 

gentle spring. 
Not half so keen fierce vultures of the 

chase 
Stoop from the mountains on the feather'd 

race, 
When the wide field extended snares beset; 
With conscious dread they shun the quiv- 

'ring net: 340 

No help, no flight; but, wounded ev'ry way, 
Headlong they drop; the fowlers seize the 

prey. 
On all sides thus they double wound on 

wound. 
In prostrate heaps the wretches beat the 

ground. 
Unmanly shrieks precede each dying groan. 
And a red deluge floats the reeking stone. 

Leiodes first before the victor falls: 
The wretched augur thus for mercy calls: 
' Oh Gracious ! hear, nor let thy suppliant 

bleed: 
Still undishonour'd, or by word or deed, 350 
Thy house, for me, remains; by me re- 

press'd 
Full oft was check'd th' injustice of the 

rest: 
Averse they heard me when I counsell'd 

well. 
Their hearts were harden'd, and they justly 

fell. 
Oh, spare an augur's consecrated head, 
Nor add the blameless to the guilty dead.' 
* Priest as thou art ! for that detested 

band 
Thy lying prophecies deceiv'd the land: 



624 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Against Ulysses have thy vows been made ; 

For them thy daily orisons were paid: 360 

Yet more, even to our bed thy pride as- 
pires: 

One common crime one common fate re- 
quires.' 
Thus speaking, from the ground the 
sword he took 

Which Agelaiis' dying hand forsook: 

Full thro' his neck the weighty falchion 
sped: 

Along the pavement roll'd the mutt'ring 
head. 
Phemius alone the hand of vengeance 
spared, 

Phemius the sweet, the Heav'n-instructed 
bard. 

Beside the gate the rev'reud minstrel 
stands; 

The lyre, now silent, trembling in his 
hands; 370 

Dubious to supplicate the Chief, or fly 

To Jove's inviolable altar nigh, 

Where oft Laertes holy vows had paid, 

And oft Ulysses smoking victims laid. 

His honour'd harp with care he first set 
down, 

Between the laver and the silver throne; 

Then, prostrate stretch'd before the dread- 
ful man, 

Persuasive thus, with accent soft began: 
* O King ! to mercy be thy soul inclin'd. 

And spare the poet's ever-gentle kind. 380 

A deed like this thy future fame would 
wrong, 

For dear to Gods and man is sacred song. 

Self-taught I sing; by Heav'n, and Heav'n 
alone. 

The genuine seeds of poesy are sown: 

And (what the Gods bestow) the lofty lay 

To Gods alone and godlike worth we pay. 

Save then the poet, and thyself reward; 

'T is thine to merit, mine is to record. 

That here I sung, was force, and not de- 
sire: 

This hand reluctant touch'd the warbling 
wire; 390 

And, let thy son attest, nor sordid pay, 

Nor servile flattery, stain'd the moral lay.' 
The moving words Telemachus attends. 

His sire approaches, and the bard de- 
fends. 
' O mix not, Father, with those impious 
dead 

The man divine; forbear that sacred head; 



Medon, the herald, too, our arms may 

spare, 
Medon, who made my infancy his care; 
If yet he breathes, permit thy son to 

give 399 

Thus much to gratitude, and bid him 

live.' 
Beneath a table, trembling with dismay, 
Couch'd close to earth, unhappy Medon 

lay, 
Wrapp'd in a new-slain ox's ample hide; 
Swift at the word he cast his screen aside, 
Sprung to the Prince, embraced his knee 

with tears, 
And thus with grateful voice address'd his 

ears: 
* O Prince ! O Friend ! lo ! here thy Me- 
don stands: 
Ah! stop the hero's unresisted hands, 
Incens'd too justly by that impious brood, 
Whose guilty glories now are set in 

blood.' 41C 

To whom Ulysses with a pleasing eye: 
* Be bold, on friendship and my son rely ; 
Live, an example for the world to read. 
How much more safe the good than evil 

deed: 
Thou, with the Heav'n-taught bard, in 

peace resort 
From blood and carnage to yon open 

court: 
Me other work requires.' — With tim'rous 

awe 
From the dire scene th' exempted two 

withdraw, 
Scarce sure of life, look round, and trem- 
bling move 419 
To the bright altars of Protector Jove. 
Meanwhile Ulysses search'd the dome, to 

find 
If yet there live of all th' offending kind. 
Not one ! complete the bloody tale he 

found. 
All steep'd in blood, all gasping on the 

ground. 
So, when by hollow shores the fisher-train "" 
Sweep with their arching nets the hoary 

main. 
And scarce the meshy toils the copious 

draught contain. 
All naked of their element, and bare. 
The fishes pant, and gasp in thinner air; 
Wide o'er the sands are spread the stiff'n- 

ing prey, ^ 430 

Till the warm sun exhales their soul away. 



THE ODYSSEY 



62! 



And now the King commands his son to 
call 

Old Euryclea to the deathful hall: 

The son observant not a moment stays; 

The aged governess with speed obeys; 

The sounding portals instant they display; 

The matron moves, the Prince directs the 
way. 

On heaps of death the stern Ulysses stood, 

All black with dust, and cover 'd thick with 
blood. 439 

So the grim lion from the slaughter comes. 

Dreadful he glares, and terribly he foams. 

His breast with marks of carnage painted 
o'er, 

His jaws all dropping with the bull's black 
gore. 
Soon as her eyes the welcome object 
met. 

The guilty fall'n, the mighty deed com- 
plete, 

A scream of joy her feeble voice essay'd : 

The hero check'd her, and composedly 
said: 
* Woman, experienc'd as thou art, con- 
trol 

Indecent joy, and feast thy secret soul. 

T' insult the dead is cruel and unjust; 450 

Fate and their crime have sunk them to 
the dust. 

Nor heeded these the censure of mankind, 

The . good and bad were equal in their 
mind. 

Justly the price of worthlessness they 
paid, 

And each now wails an unlamented shade. 

But thou sincere, O Euryclea, say. 

What maids dishonour us, and what obey ? ' 
Then she : ' In these thy kingly walls 
remain 

(My son) full fifty of the handmaid train. 

Taught, by my care, to cull the fleece or 
weave, 460 

And servitude with pleasing tasks deceive; 

Of these, twice six pursue their wicked 
way. 

Nor me, nor chaste Penelope obey; 

Nor fits it that Telemaehus command 

(Young as he is) his mother's female band. 

Hence to the upper chambers let me fly, 

Where slumbers soft now close the royal 
eye; 

There wake her with the news' — the ma- 
tron cried. 

* Not so ' (Ulysses, more sedate, replied), 



* Bring first the crew who wrought these 
guilty deeds.' 470 

In haste the matron parts; the King pro- 
ceeds: 
' Now to dispose the dead, the care re- 
mains 

To you, my son, and you, my faithful 
swains; 

Th' offending females to that task we 
doom. 

To wash, to scent, and purify the room: 

These (ev'ry table cleans'd, and ev'ry 
throne, 

And all the melancholy labour done). 

Drive to yon court, without the palace- 
wall. 

There the revenging sword shall smite 
them all; 479 

So with the suitors let them mix in dust, 

Stretch'd in a long oblivion of their lust.' 
He said: the lamentable train appear, 

Each vents a groan, and drops a tender 
tear: 

Each heav'd her mournful burden, and be- 
neath 

The porch deposed the ghastly heap of 
death. 

The Chief severe, compelling each to move, 

Urged the dire task imperious from above: 

With thirsty sponge they rub the tables ' 
o'er 

(The swains unite their toil); the walls, 
the floor 

Wash'd with th' effusive wave, are 
purged of gore. 490 

Once more the palace set in fair array, 

To the base court the females take their 
way: 

There compass'd close between the dome 
and wall 

(Their life's last scene), they trembling 
wait their fall. 
Then thus the Prince: * To these shall 
we afford 

A fate so pure, as by the martial sword ? 

To these, the nightly prostitutes to shame. 

And base revilers of our house and 
name ? * 
Thus speaking, on the circling wall he 
strung 499 

A ship's tough cable, from a column hung; 

Near the high top he strain'd it strongly 
round, 

Whence no contending foot could reach the 
ground. 



626 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Their heads above connected in a row, 

Thej beat the air with quiv'ring feet be- 
low: 

Thus on some tree hung struggling in the 
snare, 

The doves or thrushes flap their wings in 
air. 

Soon fled the soul impure, and left behind 

The empty corse to waver with the wind. 
Then forth they led Melanthius, and be- 
gan 

Their bloody work; they lopp'd away the 
man, 510 

Morsel for dogs ! then trimm'd with brazen 
shears 

The wretch, and shorten'd of his nose and 
ears; 

His hands and feet last felt the cruel 
steel : 

He roar'd, and torments gave his soul to 
Hell. 

They wash, and to Ulysses take their 
way, 

So ends the bloody business of the day. 
To Euryclea then address'd the King: 

* Bring hither fire, and hither sulphur bring, 

To purge the palace: then the Queen at- 
tend, 

And let her with her matron-train de- 
scend; 520 

The matron-train, with all the virgin- 
band. 

Assemble here, to learn their lord's com- 
mand.' 
Then Euryclea: * Joyful I obey. 

But cast those mean dishonest rags away; 

Permit me first the royal robes to bring: 

III suits this garb the shoulders of a King.' 
* Bring sulphur straight, and fire ' (the 
Monarch cries). 

She hears, and at the word obedient flies. 

With fire and sulphur, cure of noxious 
fumes. 

He purged the walls, and blood-polluted 
rooms. 530 

Again the matron springs with eager pace. 

And spreads her lord's return from place 
to place. 

They hear, rush forth, and instant round 
him stand, 

A gazing throng, a torch in every hand. 

They saw, they knew him, and with fond 
embrace 

Each humbly kiss'd his knee, or hand, or 
face ; 



He knows them all; in all such truth ap- 
pears, 
Ev'n he indulges the sweet joy of tears. 



BOOK XXIV 

ARGUMENT 

The souls of the suitors are conducted by Mer- 
cury to the infernal shades. Ulysses in the 
country goes to the retirement of his father 
Laertes ; he finds him busied in his garden 
all alone : the manner of his discovery to him 
is beautifully described. They return to- 
gether to his lodg"e, and the king is acknow- 
ledged by Dolius and the servants. The 
Ithacensians, led by Eupithes, the father of 
Antinoiis, rise ag-ainst Ulysses, who gives 
them battle, in which Eupithes is killed by 
Laertes : and the goddess Pallas makes a 
lasting peace between Ulysses and his sub- 
jects, which concludes the Odyssey. 

Cyllenius now to Pluto's dreary reign 
Conveys the dead, a lamentable train ! 
The golden wand, that causes sleep to 

fly, 

Or in soft slumber seals the wakeful eye, 
That drives the ghosts to realms of night 

or day. 
Points out the long uncomfortable way. 
Trembling the spectres glide, and plaintive 

vent 
Thin hollow screams, along the deep de- 
scent. 
As in the cavern of some rifted den. 
Where flock nocturnal bats, and birds ob- 
scene; 10 
Cluster'd they hang, till, at some sudden 

shock. 
They move, and murmurs run thro' all the 

rock ! 
So cow'ring fled the sable heaps of ghosts, 
And such a scream fiU'd all the dismal 

coasts. 
And now they reach'd the earth's remotest 

ends, 
And now the gates where ev'ning Sol de- 
scends. 
And Leucas' rock, and Ocean's utmost 

streams. 
And now pervade the dusky land of dreams, 
And rest at last, where souls unbodied dwell 
In ever-flow'ring meads of asphodel. 20 

The empty forms of men inhabit there. 
Impassive semblance, images of air 1 



THE ODYSSEY 



627 



Not else are all that shined on earth be- 
fore : 

Ajax and great Achilles are no more ! 

Yet still a master-ghost, the rest he aw'd, 

The rest ador'd him, tow'ring as he trod; 

Still at his side is Nestor's son survey'd, 

And loved Patroclus still attends his shade. 
New as they were to that infernal shore, 

The suitors stopp'd, and gazed the hero 
o'er. 30 

When, moving slow, the regal form they 
view'd 

Of great Atrides : him in pomp pursued 

And solemn sadness thro' the gloom of 
Hell, 

The train of those who by iEgisthus fell : 

* O mighty Chief ! ' (Pelides thus began) 

* Honour'd by Jove above the lot of man! 
King of a hundred Kings ! to whom re- 

sign'd 
The strongest, bravest, greatest of man- 
kind, 
Com'st thou the first, to view this dreary 

state ? 
And was the noblest the first mark ' of 

Fate, 40 

Condemn'd to pay the great arrear so soon 
The lot, which all lament, and none can 

shun ! 
Oh ! better had'st thou sunk in Trojan 

ground, 
With all thy full - blown honours cover'd 

round; 
Then grateful Greece with streaming eyes 

might raise 
Historic marbles to record thy praise : 
Thy praise eternal on the faithful stone 
Had with trausmissive glories graced thy 

son. 
But heavier fates were destin'd to attend : 
What man is happy, till he knows the 

end ? ' 50 

* son of Peleus! greater than mankind! ' 
(Thus Agamemnon's kingly shade rejoin'd) 

* Thrice happy thou, to press the martial 

plain 
'Midst heaps of heroes in thy quarrel slain : 
In clouds of smoke rais'd by the noble ' 

fray, 
Great and terrific ev'n in death you lay, V 
And deluges of blood flow'd round you 

ev'ry way. 
Nor ceas'd the strife till Jove himself op- 
posed, 
And all in tempests the dire ev'ning closed. 



Then to the fleet we bore thy honour'd 

load, 60 

And decent on the funeral bed bestow'd : 
Then unguents sweet, and tepid streams ' 

we shed ; 
Tears flow'd from ev'ry eye, and o'er the 

dead 
Each clipp'd the curling honour of his 

head. 

Struck at the news, thy azure mother came ; 
The sea-green sisters waited on the dame : 
A voice of loud lament thro' all the main 
Was heard; and terror seiz'd the Grecian 

train : 
Back to their ships the frighted host had 

fled; 69 

But Nestor spoke, they listen'd and obey'd 
(From old experience Nestor's counsel 

springs, 
And long vicissitudes of human things). 
' " Forbear your flight : fair Thetis from 

the main 
To mourn Achilles leads her azure train." 
Around thee stand the daughters of the 

deep, 
Robe thee in heav'nly vests, and round thee 

weep: 
Round thee, the Muses, with alternate 

strain, 
In ever-consecrating verse, complain. 
Each warlike Greek the moving music 

hears. 
And iron-hearted heroes melt in tears. 80 
Till sev'nteen nights and sev'nteen days 

return'd, 
All that was mortal or immortal mourn'd. 
To flames we gave thee, the succeeding 

day. 
And fatted sheep and sable oxen slay; 
With oils and honey blaze th' augmented 

fires, 
And, like a God adorn'd, thy earthly part 

expires. 
Unnumber'd warriors round the burning 

pile 
Urge the fleet courser's or the racer's toil; 
Thick clouds of dust o'er all the circle 

rise, 
And the mix'd clamour thunders in the 

skies. 90 

Soon as absorb'd in all-embracing flame 
Sunk what was mortal of thy mighty name. 
We then collect thy snowy bones, and 

place 
With wines and unguents in a golden vase 



628 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



(The vase to Thetis Bacchus gave of old, 
And Vulcan's art enrich'd the sculptured 

gold) ; 
There we thy relics, great Achilles! blend 
With dear Patroclus, thy departed friend: 
In the same urn a sep'rate space contains 
Thy next belov'd, Antilochus' remains. loo 
Now all the sons of warlike Greece sur- 
round 
Thy destin'd tomb, and cast a mighty 

mound: 
High on the shore the growing hill we raise, 
That wide th' extended Hellespont sur- 
veys : 
Where all, from age to age, who pass the 

coast 
May point Achilles' tomb, and hail the 

mighty ghost. 
Thetis herself to all our Peers proclaims 
Heroic prizes and exequial games; 
The Gods assented ; and around thee lay 
Rich spoils and gifts that blazed against 
the day. no 

Oft have I seen with solemn funeral games 
Heroes and Kings committed to the flames; 
But strength of youth, or valour of the 

brave, 
With nobler contest ne'er renown'd a grave. 
Such were the games by azure Thetis giv'n, 
And such the honours, O Belov'd of Heav'n! 
Dear to mankind thy fame survives, nor 

fades 
Its bloom eternal in the Stygian shades. 
But what to me avail my honours gone, 119 
Successful toils, and battles bravely won ? 
Doom'd by stern Jove at home to end my 

life, 
By curs'd -^gisthus, and a faithless wife! ' 
Thus they: while Hermes o'er the dreary 
plain 
Led the sad numbers by Ulysses slain. 
On each majestic form they cast a view, 
And tim'rous pass'd, and awfully with- 
drew. 
But Agamemnon, thro' the gloomy shade. 
His ancient host Amphimedon survey'd : 
* Son of Melanthius! ' (he began) ' O say I 
What cause compell'd so many, and so 

gay, 130 

To tread the downward melancholy way ? 
Say, could one city yield a troop so fair ? 
Were all these partners of one native air ? 
Or did the rage of stormy Neptune sweep 
Your lives at once, and whelm beneath the 

deep? 



Did nightly thieves-, or pirates' cruel bands. 

Drench with your blood your pillaged coun- 
try's sands ? 

Or, well-defending some beleaguer'd wall, 

Say, for the public did ye greatly fall ? 

Inform thy guest : for such I was of 
yore 140 

When our triumphant navies touch'd your 
shore ; 

Forc'd a long month the wintry seas to 
bear. 

To move the great Ulysses to the war.' 
* O King of Men ! I faithful shall re- 
late ' 

(Replied Amphimedon) * our hapless fate. 

Ulysses absent, our ambitious aim 

With rival loves pursued his royal dame ; 

Her coy reserve, and prudence mix'd with 
pride. 

Our common suit nor granted, nor denied : 

But close with inward hate our deaths de- 
sign'd; 150 

Vers'd in all arts of wily womankind. 

Her hand, laborious, in delusion spread 

A spacious loom, and mix'd the various 
thread. 

' " Ye Peers " (she cried), " who press to gain 
my heart. 

Where dead Ulysses claims no more a 
part. 

Yet a short space your rival suit suspend. 

Till this funereal web my labours end : 

Cease, till to good Laertes I bequeath 

A task of grief, his ornaments of death: 

Lest, when the Fates his royal ashes claim. 

The Grecian matrons taint my spotless 
fame; 161 

Should he, long honour'd with supreme 
command. 

Want the last duties of a daughter's hand." 
'The fiction pleas'd: our gen'rous train 
complies. 

Nor fraud distrusts in virtue's fair dis- 
guise. 

The work she plied, but, studious of de- 
lay, 

Each foil' wing night re vers'd the toils of 
day. 

Unheard, unseen, three years her arts pre- 
vail; 

The fourth, her maid reveal'd th' amazing 
tale, 

And show'd, as unperceiv'd we took our 
stand, 170 

The backward labours of her faithless hand. 



THE ODYSSEY 



629 



Forc'd, she completes it; and before us' 
lay 

The mingled web, whose gold and silver 
ray 

Display 'd the radiance of the night and 
day. 
* Just as she finish 'd her illustrious toil 

111 fortune led Ulysses to our isle. 

Far in a lonely nook, beside the sea, 

At an old swineherd's rural lodge he lay: 

Thither his son from sandy Pyle repairs. 

And speedy lands, and secretly confers. 180 

They plan our future ruin, and resort 

Confed'rate to the city and the court. 

First came the son: the father next suc- 
ceeds. 

Clad like a beggar, whom Eumaeus leads; 

Propp'd on a staff, deform'd with age and 
care, 

And hung with rags that flutter'd in the 
air. 

Who could Ulysses in that form behold ? 

Scorn'd by the young, forgotten by the old. 

Ill-used by all ! to ev'ry wrong resign'd. 

Patient he suffer'd with a constant mind, igo 

But when, arising in his wrath t' obey 

The will of Jove, he gave the vengeance 
way: 

The scatter'd arms that hung around the 
dome 

Careful he treasured in a private room; 

Then to her suitors bade his Queen propose 

The archer's strife, the source of future 
woes, 

And omen of our death ! In vain we drew 

The twanging string, and tried the stub- 
born yew: 

To none it yields but great Ulysses' hands; 

In vain we threat; Teleraachus commands: 

The bow he snatch'd, and in an instant 
bent; 201 

Thro' ev'ry ring the victor arrow went. 

Fierce on the threshold then in arms he 
stood; 

Pour'd forth the darts that thirsted for 
our blood. 

And frown'd before us, dreadful as a 
God; 

First bleeds AntinoUs: thick the shafts re- 
sound; 

And heaps on heaps the wretches strew the 
ground : 

This way and that we turn, we fly, we 
fall; 

Some God assisted, and unmann'd us all: 



Ignoble cries precede the dying groans; 210 
And batter'd brains and blood besmear the 
stones. 

* Thus, great Atrides ! thus Ulysses drove 
The shades thou seest from yon fair realms 

above; 
Our mangled bodies now, deform'd with 

gore, 
Cold and neglected, spread the marble floor. 
No friend to bathe our wounds, or tears to 

shed 
O'er the pale corse the honours of the 

dead.' 

* Oh bless'd Ulysses ! ' (thus the King 

express'd 
His sudden rapture) * in thy consort 

bless'd ! 
Not more thy wisdom than her virtue 

shined; 220 

Not more thy patience than her constant 

mind. 
Icarius' daughter, glory of the past, 
And model to the future age, shall last: 
The Gods, to honour her fair fame, shall 

raise 
(Their great reward) a Poet in her praise. 
Not such, O Tyndarus ! thy daughter's 

deed, 
By whose dire hand her King and Husband 

bled; 
Her shall the Muse to infamy prolong, 
Example dread, and theme of tragic song ! 
The gen'ral sex shall suffer in her shame. 
And ev'n the best that bears a woman's 

name.' 231 

Thus in the regions of eternal shade 
Conferr'd the mournful phantoms of the 

dead; 
While from the town Ulysses and his band 
Pass'd to Laertes' cultivated land. 
The ground himself had purchas'd with his 

pain, 
And labour made the rugged soil a plain. 
There stood his mansion of the rural sort, 
With useful buildings round the lowly 

court; 
Where the few servants that divide his 

care, 240 

Took their laborious rest, and homely fare: 
And one Sicilian matron, old and sage, 
With constant duty tends his drooping age. 

Here now arriving, to his rustic band, 
And martial son, Ulysses gave command. 
' Enter the house, and of the bristly swine 
Select the largest to the Powers divine. 



630 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Alone, and unattended, let me try 
If yet I share the old man's memory: 
If those dim eyes can yet Ulysses know 250 
(Their light and dearest object long 

ago), ... y 

Now changed with time, with absence, 

and with woe.' 
Then to his train he gives his spear and 

shield; 
The house they enter: and he seeks the 

field 
Thro' rows of shade, with various fruitage 

crown'd. 
And labour'd scenes of richest verdure 

round. 
Nor aged Dolius, nor his sons were there, 
Nor servants, absent on another care; 
To search the woods for sets of flow'ry 

thorn. 
Their orchard bounds to strengthen and 

adorn. 260 

But all alone the hoary King he found; 
His habit coarse, but warmly wrapp'd 

around ; 
His head, that bow'd with many a pensive 

care, 
Fenc'd with a double cap of goatskin hair: 
His buskins old, in former service torn. 
But well repair'd; and gloves against the 

thorn. 
In this array the kingly gard'ner stood, 
And clear'd a plant, encumber'd with its 

wood. 
Beneath a neighb'ring tree, the Chief 

divine 
Gazed o'er his sire, retracing ev'ry line, 270 
The ruins of himself ! now worn away 
With age, yet still majestic in decay ! 
Sudden his eyes releas'd their wat'ry store; 
The much-enduring man could bear no 

more. 
Doubtful he stood, if instant to embrace 
His aged limbs, to kiss his rev'rend face, 
With eager transport to disclose the whole. 
And pour at once the torrent of his soul. — 
Not so: his judgment takes the winding 

way 
Of question distant, and of soft essay; 280 
More gentle methods on weak age em- 
ploys; 
And moves the sorrows, to enhance the 

joys. 
Then, to his sire with beating heart he 

moves 
And with a tender pleasantry reproves; 



Who, digging round the plant, still hangs 

his head. 
Nor aught remits the work, while thus he 

said : 
* Great is thy skill, O Father ! great thy 

toil, 
Thy careful hand is stanip'd on all the 

soil; 
Thy squadron'd vineyards well thy art' 

declare. 
The olive green, blue fig, and pendent 

pear; 290 

And not one empty spot escapes thy care. ^ 
On ev'ry plant and tree thy cares are 

shown. 
Nothing neglected, but thj'self alone. 
Forgive me. Father, if this fault I blame; 
Age so advanc'd may some indulgence 

claim. 
Not for thy sloth, I deem thy lord unkind: 
Nor speaks thy form a mean or servile 

mind ; 
I read a Monarch in that princely air, 
The same thy aspect, if the same thy care; 
Soft sleep, fair garments, and the joys of 

wine, 300 

These are the rights of age, and should be 

thine. 
Who then thy master, say ? and whose the 

land 
So dress'd and managed by thy skilful 

hand ? 
But chief, oh tell me ! (what I question 

most) 
Is this the far-famed Ithacensian coast ? 
For so reported the first man I view'd 
(Some surly islander, of manners rude). 
Nor farther conference vouchsafed to stay; 
Heedless he whistled, and pursued his way. 
But thou, whom years have taught to un- 
derstand, 310 
Humanely hear, and answer my demand: 
A friend I seek, a wise one and a brave: 
Say, lives he yet, or moulders in the grave ? 
Time was (my fortunes then were at the 

best). 
When at my house I lodg'd this foreign 

guest; 
He said, from Ithaca's fair isle he came, 
And old Laertes was his father's name. 
To him, whatever to a guest is owed 
I paid, and hospitable gifts bestow'd: 
To him sev'n talents of pure ore I told, 320 
Twelve cloaks, twelve vests, twelve tunics 

stiff with gold; 



THE ODYSSEY 



631 



A bowl, that rich with polish'd silver 

flames, 
And, skill'd in female works, four lovely 

dames.' 
At this the father, with a father's fears 
(His venerable eyes bedimm'd with tears): 
*Tliis is the laud; but ah! thy gifts are 

lost. 
For godless men, and rude, possess the 

coast: 
Sunk is the glory of this once-famed shore! 
Thy ancient friend, O Stranger, is no 

more! 329 

Full recompense thy bounty else had borne; 
For ev'ry good man yields a just return: 
So civil rights demand; and who begius 
The track of friendship, not pursuing, sins. 
But tell me, stranger, be the truth con- 

fess'd. 
What years have circled since thou saw'st 

that guest ? 
That hapless guest, alas! for ever gone! 
Wretch that he was! and that I am! my son! 
If ever man to misery was born, 
'T was his to suffer and 't is mine to mourn! 
Far from his friends, and from his native 

reign, 340 

He lies a prey to monsters of the main; 
Or savage beasts his mangled relics tear. 
Or screaming vultures scatter thro' the 

air: 
Nor could his mother funeral unguents 

shed; 
Nor wail'd his father o'er th' untimely 

dead: 
Nor his sad consort, on the mournful bier, 
Seal'd his cold eyes, or dropp'd a tender 

tear! 
* But, tell me who thou art ? and what thy 

race ? 
Thy town, thy parents, and thy native 

place ? 
Or, if a merchant in pursuit of gain, 350' 
What port receiv'd thy vessel from the 

main ? 
Or com'st thou single, or attend thy 

train ? ' 
Then thus the son : * From Alybas I 

came. 
My palace there; Eperitus ray name. 
Not vulgar born; from Aphidas, the King 
Of Polypemon's royal line, I spring. 
Some adverse demon from Sicania bore 
Our wand'ring course, and drove us on your 

shore ; 



Far from the town, an unfrequented bay 
Reliev'd our wearied vessel from the sea. 
Five years have circled since these eyes 
pursued 361 

Ulysses parting thro' the sable flood; 
Prosp'rous he sail'd, with dexter auguries. 
And all the wing'd good omens of the skies. 
Well hoped we then to meet on this fair 

shore. 
Whom Heav'n, alas ! decreed to meet no 
more.' 
Quick thro' the father's heart these ac- 
cents ran; 
Grief seiz'd at once, and wrapp'd up all the 

man: 
Deep from his soul he sigh'd, and sorr'wing 

spread 
A cloud of ashes on his hoary head. 370 

Trembling with agonies of strong delight 
Stood the great son, heart-wounded with 

the sight: 
He ran, he seiz'd him with a strict em- 
brace. 
With thousand kisses wander'd o'er his 

face: 
* I, I am he ; O Father, rise ! behold 
Thy son, with twenty winters now grown 

old; 
Thy son, so long desired, so long detain'd, 
Restor'd, and breathing in his native land: 
These floods of sorrow, O my Sire, re- 
strain! 
The vengeance is complete; the suitor 
train, 380 

Stretch'd in our palace, by these hands 
lie slain.' 

Amazed, Laertes: 'Give some certain 
sign ' 
(If such thou art) * to manifest thee mine.* 
* Lo here the wound ' (he cries) ' receiv'd 
of yore. 
The scar indented by the tusky boar. 
When, by thyself, and by Anticlea sent, 
To old Autolycus's realms 1 went. 
Yet by another sign thy offspring know; 
The sev'ral trees you gave me long ago, 
While, yet a child, these fields I lov'd to 
trace, 390 

And trod thy footsteps with unequal pace ; 
To ev'ry plant in order as we came, 
Well-pleas'd, you told its nature and its 

name, 
Whate'er my childish fancy ask'd, bestow'd: 
Twelve pear-trees, bowing with their pen- 
dent load, 



y 



632 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



And ten, that red with blushing apples 
glow'd; 

Full fifty purple figs; and many a row 

Of various vines that then began to blow, 

A future vintage ! when the Hours pro- 
duce 

Their latent buds, and Sol exalts the 
juice.' 400 

Smit with the signs which all his doubts 
explain, 

His heart within him melts; his knees sus- 
tain 

Their feeble weight no more : his arms 
alone 

Support him, round the lov'd Ulysses 
thrown; 

He faints, he sinks, with mighty joys op- 
press'd : 

Ulysses clasps him to his eager breast. 

Soon as returning life regains its seat. 

And his breath lengthens, and his pulses 
beat; 

* Yes, I believe ' (he cries) * almighty Jove! 

Heav'n rules us yet, and Gods there are 
above. 410 

'T is so — the suitors for their wrongs have 
paid — 

But what shall guard us, if the town in- 
vade ? 

If, while the news thro' ev'ry city flies, 

All Ithaca and Cephalenia rise ? ' 

To this Ulysses : * As the Gods shall 
please 

Be all the rest; and set thy soul at ease. 

Haste to the cottage by this orchard's 
side, 

And take the banquet which our cares pro- 
vide: 

There wait thy faithful band of rural 
friends, 419 

And there the young Telemachus attends.' 
Thus having said, they traced the garden 
o'er. 

And stooping enter'd at the lowly door. 

The swains and young Telemachus they 
found. 

The victim portion'd, and the goblet 
crown'd. 

The hoary King his old Sicilian maid 

Perfumed and wash'd, and gorgeously ar- 
ray'd. 

Pallas attending gives his frame to shine 

With awful port, and majesty divine; 

His gazing son admires the godlike grace. 

And air celestial dawning o'er his face. 430 



* What God ' (he cried) * my father's form 

improves ? 
How high he treads, and how enlarged he 

moves! ' 
*0h! would to all the deathless Powers 

on high, 
Pallas and Jove, and him who gilds the sky ! 
(Replied the King, elated with his praise) 
My strength were still as once in better 

days: 
When the bold Cephaleus the leaguer 

form'd. 
And proud Nericus trembled as I storm'd. 
Such were I now, not absent from your 

deed 439 

When the last sun beheld the suitors bleed. 
This arm had aided yours, this hand be-^ 

strown 
Our shores with death, and push'd the 

slaughter on; 
Nor had the sire been sep'rate from the 

son.' 
They communed thus ; while homeward 

bent their way 
The swains, fatigued with labours of the 

day: 
Dolius the first, the venerable man; 
And next his sons, a long succeeding train. 
For due refection to the bower they came, 
Call'd by the careful old Sicilian dame. 
Who nurs'd the children, and now tends 

the sire; 450 

They see their lord, they gaze, and they 

admire. 
On chairs and beds in order seated round, 
They share the gladsome board; the roofs 

resound. 
While thus Ulysses to his ancient friend: 

* Forbear your wonder, and the feast at- 

tend: 
The rites have waited long.' The Chief 

commands 
Their loves in vain ; old Dolius spreads his 

hands, 
Springs to his master with a warm embrace, 
And fastens kisses on his hands and face; 
Then thus broke out: 'O long, O daily 

mourn'd! 460 

Beyond our hopes, and to our wish re- 

turn'd! 
Conducted sure by Heav'n I for Heav'n " 

alone 
Could work this wonder: welcome to thy 



own 



And joys and happiness attend thy throne ! 



THE ODYSSEY 



633 



Who knows thy bless'd, thy wish'd re-"" 

turn ? oh say, 
To the chaste Queen shall we the news 

convey ? 
Or hears she, and with blessings loads 

the day ? ' 
* Dismiss that care, for to the royal bride 
Already is it known,' the King replied. 
And straight resumed his seat; while round 

him bows 470 

Each faithful youth, and breathes out ar- 
dent vows: 
Then all beneath their father take their 

place, 
Rank'd by their ages, and the banquet 

grace. 
Now flying Fame the swift report had 

spread 
Thro' all the city, of the suitors dead. 
In throngs they rise, and to the palace 

crowd; 
Their sighs were many, and the tumult 

loud. 
Weeping they bear the mangled heaps 

of slain, 
Inhume the natives in their native plain ; 
The rest in ships are wafted o'er the 

main. 480^ 

Then sad in council all the seniors sate. 
Frequent and full, assembled to debate: 
Amid the circle first Eupithes rose. 
Big was his eye with tears, his heart with 

woes: 
The bold Antinoiis was his age's pride, 
The first who by Ulysses' arrow died: 
Down his wan cheek the trickling torrent 

ran. 
As, mixing words with sighs, he thus be- 
gan: 
' Great deeds, O Friends ! this wondrous 

man has wrought, 
And mighty blessings to his country 

brought ! 490 

With ships he parted, and a numerous train ; 
Those, and their ships, he buried in the 

main. 
Now he returns, and first essays his hand 
In the best blood of all his native land. 
Haste then, and ere to neighb'ring Pyle "" 

he flies, 
Or sacred Elis, to procure supplies; 
Arise (or ye for ever fall), arise ! 
Shame to this age, and all that shall suc- 
ceed ! 
If unrevenged your sons and brothers bleed 



Prove that we live, by vengeance on his 

head, 500 

Or sink at once forgotten with the dead.* 

Here ceas'd he, but indignant tears let fall 
Spoke when he ceas'd: dumb sorrow 

touch'd them all. 
When from the palace to the wond'ring 

throng 
Sage Medou came, and Phemius came 

along 
(Restless and early sleep's soft bands they 

broke) ; 
And Medou first th' assembled Chiefs be- 
spoke : 
* Hear me, ye Peers and Elders of the 

laud, 
Who deem this act the work of mortal 

hand ; 509 

As o'er the heaps of death Ulysses strode. 
These eyes, these eyes beheld a present 

God, 
Who now before him, now beside him stood. 
Fought as he fought, and mark'd his way 

with blood: 
In vain old Mentor's form the God belied ; 
'T was Heav'n that struck, and Heav'n was 

on his side.' 
A sudden horror all th' assembly shook. 
When, slowly rising, Halitherses spoke 
(Rev'rend and wise, whose comprehensive 

view 
At once the present and the future knew) ; 
* Me too, ye Fathers, hear ! from you pro- 
ceed 520 
The ills ye mourn; your own the guilty 

deed. 
Ye gave your sons, your lawless sons, the 

rein 
(Oft warn'd by Mentor and myself in 

vain) ; 
An absent hero's bed they sought to soil, 
An absent hero's wealth they made their 

spoil ; 
Immod'rate riot, and intemp'rate lust I 
Th' offence was great, the punishment was 

just. 
Weigh then my counsels in an equal scale. 
Nor rush to ruin. Justice will prevail.' 
His mod'rate words some better minds 

persuade: 530 

They part, and join him; but the number 

stay'd. 
They storm, they shout, with hasty frenzy 

fired. 
And second all Eupithes' rage inspired. 



634 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



I 



They case their limbs in brass; to arms 

they run; 
The broad effulgence blazes in the sun. 
Before the city, and in ample plain, 
They meet: Eupithes heads the frantic train. 
Fierce for his son, he breathes his threats in 

air; 
Fate hears them not, and Death attends 

him there. 
This pass'd on earth, while in the realms 

above 540 

Minerva thus to cloud-compelling Jove: 
' May I presume to search thy secret soul ? 
O Power Supreme, O Ruler of the Whole ! 
Say, hast thou doom'd to this divided"" 

state 
Or peaceful amity, or stern debate ? 
Declare thy purpose, for thy will is Fate.'^ 
' Is not thy thought my own ? ' (the God 

replies 
Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted 

skies) 
* Hath not long since thy knowing soul ' 

decreed 
The Chief's return should make the 

guilty bleed ? 550 

'T is done, and at thy will the Fates suc- 
ceed. 

Yet hear the issue; since Ulysses' hand 
Has slain the suitors, Heav'n shall bless the 

land. 
None now the kindred of th' unjust shall 

own; 
Forgot the slaughter'd brother and the son : 
Each future day increase of wealth shall 

bring. 
And o'er the past Oblivion stretch her wing. 
Long shall Ulysses in his empire rest. 
His people blessing, by his people bless'd. 
Let all be peace.' — He said, and gave the 

pod 560 

That binds the Fates; the sanction of the 

God: 
And, prompt to execute th' eternal will, 
Descended Pallas from th' Olympian hill. 

Now sat Ulysses at the rural feast. 
The rage of hunger and of thirst repress'd: 
To watch the foe a trusty spy he sent: 
A son of Dolius on the message went, 
Stood in the way, and at a glance beheld 
The foe approach, embattled on the field. 
With backward step he hastens to the 

bower, 570 

And tells the news. They arm with all 
their power. 



Four friends alone Ulysses' cause embrace, 
And six were all the sons of Dolius' race : 
Old Dolius too his rusted arms put on; 
And, still more old, in arms Laertes shone. 
Trembling with warmth, the hoary heroes 

stand. 
And brazen panoply invests the band. 
The opening gates at once their war dis- 
play: 
Fierce they rush forth: Ulysses leads the 

way. ^ 579 

That moment joins them with celestial aid, 
In Mentor's form, the Jove-descended 

Maid: 
The suff'ring Hero felt his patient breast 
Swell with new joy, and thus his son ad- 

dress'd: 
'Behold, Telemachus ! (nor fear the 

sight) 
The brave embattled, the grim front of 

fight! 
The valiant with the valiant must contend: 
Shame not the line whence glorious you 

descend; 
Wide o'er the world their martial fame was 

spread : 
Regard thyself, the living, and the dead.' 
' Thy eyes, great Father ! on this battle 

cast, 590 

Shall learn from me Penelope was chaste.' 

So spoke Telemachus: the gallant boy 
Good old Laertes heard with panting joy; 
And ' Bless'd ! thrice bless'd this happy 

day ! ' (he cries) 
' The day that shows me, ere I close my 

eyes, 
A son and grandson of th' Arcesian name 
Strive for fair virtue, and contest for 

fame ! ' 
Then thus Minerva in Laertes' ear: 
' Son of Arcesius, rev'rend warrior, hear ! 
Jove and Jove's Daughter first implore in 

prayer, 600 

Then, whirling high, discharge thy lance 

in air.' 
She said, infusing courage with the word. 
Jove and Jove's Daughter then the Chief 

implor'd. 
And, whirling high, dismiss'd the lance in 

air. 
Full at Eupithes drove the death ful spear: 
The brass-cheek'd helmet opens to the 

.wound ; 
He falls, earth thunders, and his arms re- 
sound. 



THE ODYSSEY 



635 



Before the father and the conquering son 
Heaps rush on heaps ; they fight, they drop, 
they run. 609 

Now by the sword, and now the jav'lin fall 
The rebel race, and death had swallovv'd all; 
But from on high the blue-eyed Virgin cried 
(Her awful voice detain'd the headlong tide) : 
* Forbear, ye Nations, your mad hands for- 
bear 
From mutual slaughter; Peace descends 

to spare.' 
Fear shook the Nations: at the voice divine 
They drop their jav'lins, and their rage re- 
sign. 
All scatter'd round their glitt'ring weapons 

lie; 
Some fall to earth, and some confusedly 
fly. 619 



With dreadful shouts Ulysses pour'd along, 

Swift as an eagle, as an eagle strong. 

But Jove's red arm the burning thunder 
aims; 

Before Minerva shot the livid flames; 

Blazing they fell, and at her feet expired; 

Then stopped the Goddess, trembled, and 
retired. 
* Descended from the Gods ! Ulysses, 
cease; 

Offend not Jove : obey, and give the peace.* 
So Pallas spoke: the mandate from above 

The King obey'd. The Virgin-seed of 
Jove, 

In Mentor's form, confirm 'd the full ac- 
cord, 630 

And willing Nations knew their lawful 
lord. 



POSTSCRIPT BY POPE 



I CANNOT dismiss this work without a few 
observations on the true character and style 
of it. Whoever reads the Odyssey with an eye 
to the Iliad, expecting to find it of the same 
character, or of the same sort of spirit, will 
be grievously deceived, and err against the 
first principle of criticism, which is to con- 
sider the nature of the piece, and the intent 
of its author. The Odyssey is a moral and 
political work, instructive to all degrees of 
men and filled with images, examples, and 
precepts, of civil and domestic life. Homer 
is here a person 

Qui didicit, patriae quid debeat, et quid amicis, 
Quo sit aniore parens, quo frater amandus, et hospes : 
Qui quid sit pulclirum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non, 
Plenius et melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit. 

The Odyssey is the reverse of the Iliad, in 
moral, subject, manner, and style; to which it 
has no sort of relation, but as the story 
happens to follow in order of time, and as 
some of the same persons are actors in it. 
Yet from this incidental connexion many 
have been misled to regard it as a continua- 
tion or second part, and thence to expect a 
parity of character inconsistent with its 
nature. 

It is no wonder that the common reader 
should fall into this mistake, when so great 
a critic as Longinus seems not wholly free 
from it; although what he has said has been 
generally understood to import a severer 
censure of the Odyssey than it really does, 



if we consider the occasion on which it is 
introduced, and the circumstances to which 
it is confined. 

' The Odyssey,' says he, ' is an instance, 
how natural it is to a great genius, when it 
begins to grow old and decline, to delight 
itself in Narrations and Fables. For, that 
Homer composed the Odyssey after the 
Iliad, many proofs may be given, etc. From 
hence in my judgment it proceeds, that as 
the Iliad was written while his spirit was 
in its greatest vigour, the whole structure of 
that work is dramatic and full of action; 
whereas the greater part of the Odyssey is 
employed in narration, which is the taste of 
old age: so that in this latter piece we may 
compare him to the setting sun, which has 
still the same greatness, but not the same 
ardour or force. He speaks not in the 
same strain: we see no more that Sublime 
of the Iliad which marches on with a con- 
stant pace, without ever being stopped, or 
retarded: there appears no more that hurry 
and that strong tide of motions and pas- 
sions, pouring one after another: there is 
no more the same fury, or the same volu- 
bility of diction, so suitable to action, and 
all along drawing in such innumerable im- 
ages of Nature. But Homer, like the ocean, 
is always great, even when he ebbs and re- 
tires; even when he is lowest, and loses him- 
self most in narrations and incredible fictions: 
as instances of this, we cannot forget the 



636 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



descriptions of tempests, the adventures of 
Ulysses with the Cyclops, and many others. 
But though all this be age, it is the age of 
Homer. — And it may be said for the credit 
of these fictions that they are beautiful 
dreams, or, if you will, the dreams of Jupi- 
ter himself. I spoke of the Odyssey only 
to show, that the greatest poets, when their 
genius wants strength and warmth for the 
pathetic, for the most part employ them- 
selves in painting the manners. This Ho- 
mer has done, in characterizing the suitors, 
and describing their way of life; which is 
properly a branch of comedy, whose peculiar 
business it is to represent the manners of 
men.' 

We must first observe, it is the Sublime 
of which Longinus is writing: that, and not 
the nature of Homer's poem, is his subject. 
After having highly extolled the sublimity 
and fire of the Iliad, he justly observes the 
Odyssey to have less of those qualities, 
and to turn more on the side of moral, and 
reflections on human life. Nor is it his 
business here to determine, whether the 
elevated spirit of the one, or the just moral 
of the other, be the greater excellence in 
itself. 

Secondly, that fire and fury of which he 
is speaking, cannot well be meant of the 
general spirit and inspiration which is to 
run through a whole epic poem, but of that 
particular warmth and impetuosity neces- 
sary in some parts, to image or represent 
actions or passions, of haste, tumult, and 
violence. It is on occasion of citing some 
such particular passages in Homer, that 
Longinus breaks into this reflection; which 
seems to determine his meaning chiefly to 
that sense. 

Upon the whole, he affirms the Odyssey 
to have less sublimity and fire than the 
Iliad, but he does not say it wants the Sub- 
lime or wants fire. He affirms it to be 
narrative, but not that the narration is de- 
fective. He affirms it to abound in fictions, 
not that those fictions are ill invented, or 
ill executed. He alarms it to be nice and 
particular in painting the manners, but not 
that those manners are ill painted. If Ho- 
mer has fully in these points accomplished 
his own design, and done all that the nature 
of his poem demanded or allowed, it still 
remains perfect in its kind, and as much a 
master-piece as the Iliad. 



The amount of the passage is this; that 
in his own particular taste, and with re- 
spect to the Sublime, Longinus preferred 
the Iliad; and because the Odyssey was 
less active and lofty, he judged it the work 
of the old age of Homer. 

If this opinion be true, it will only prove, 
that Homer's age might determine him in 
the choice of his subject, not that it affected 
him in the execution of it: and that which 
would be a very wrong instance to prove the 
decay of his imagination, is a very good one 
to evince the strength of his judgment. 
For had he, as Madam Dacier observes, 
composed the Odyssey in his youth, and 
the Iliad in his age, both must in reason 
have been exactly the same as they now 
stand. To blame Homer for his choice of 
such a subject, as did not admit the same 
incidents and the same pomp of style as his 
former, is to take offence at too much 
variet}', and to imagine, that when a man 
has written one good thing, he must ever 
after only copy himself. 

The Battle of Constantine, and the School 
of Athens, are both pieces of Raphael: 
shall we censure the School of Athens as 
faulty, because it has not the fury and fire 
of the other ? or shall we say, that Raphael 
was grown grave and old, because he chose 
to represent the manners of old men and 
philosophers ? There is all the silence, 
tranquillity, and composure in the one, and 
all the warmth, hurry, and tumult in the 
other, which the subject of either required: 
both of them had been imperfect, if they 
had not been as they are. And let the 
painter or poet be young or old, who de- 
signs and performs in this manner, it proves 
him to have made the piece at a time of 
life when he was master not only of his art, 
but of his discretion. 

Aristotle makes no such distinction be- 
tween the two poems: he constantly cites 
them with equal praise, and draws the 
rules and examples of epic writing equally 
from both. But it is rather to the Odyssey 
that Horace gives the preference, in the 
Epistle to Lollius, and in the Art of Poetry. 
It is remarkable how opposite his opinion 
is to that of Longinus; and that the partic- 
ulars he chooses to extol, are those very 
fictions and pictures of the manners, which 
the other seems least to approve. Those 
fables and manners are of the very essence 



POSTSCRIPT BY POPE 



637 



of the work: but even without that regard, 
the fables themselves have both more iu- 
veution and more instruction, and the man- 
ners more moral and example, than those 
of the Iliad. 

In some points (and those the most es- 
sential to the epic poem) the Odyssey is 
confessed to excel the Iliad ; and principally 
in the great end of it, the Moral. The con- 
duct, turn, and disposition of the Fable is 
also what the critics allow to be the better 
model for epic writers to follow: accord- 
ingly we find much more of the cast of this 
poem than of the other in the iEneid, and 
(what next to that is perhaps the greatest 
example) in the Telemachus. In the Man- 
ners, it is no way inferior: Longiims is so 
far from finding any defect in these, that 
he rather taxes Homer with painting them 
too minntely. As to the Narrations, al- 
though they are more numerous as the 
occasions are more frequent, yet they carry 
no more the marks of old age, and are 
neither more prolix nor more circumstantial, 
than the conversations and dialogues of the 
Iliad. Not to mention the length of those 
of Phcenix in the ninth book, and of Nestor 
in the eleventh (which may be thought in 
compliance to their characters), those of 
Glaucus in the sixth, of ^Eneas in the 
twentieth, and some others, must be allowed 
to exceed any in the whole Odyssey. And 
that the propriety of style, and the num- 
bers, in the narrations of each are equal, 
will appear to any who compare them. 

To form a right judgment, whether the 
genius of Homer had suffered any decay, 
we must consider, in both his poems, such 
parts as are of a similar nature, and will 
bear comparison. And it is certain we 
shall find in each the same vivacity and fe- 
cundity of invention, the same life and 
strength of imaging and colouring, the 
particular descriptions as highly painted, 
the figures as bold, the metaphors as ani- 
mated, and the numbers as harmonious and 
as various. 

The Odyssey is a perpetual source of 
poetry: the stream is not the less full for 
being gentle; though it is true (when we 
speak only with regard to the Sublime) 
that a river, foaming and thundering in 
cataracts from rocks and precipices, is what 
more strikes, amazes, and fills the mind, 
Mian the same body of water, flowing after- 



wards through peaceful vales and agreeable 
scenes of pasturage. 

The Odyssey (as I have before said) 
ought to be considered according to its own 
nature and design, not with an eye to the 
Iliad. To censure Homer because it is un- 
like what it was never meant to resemble, 
is, as if a gardener who had purposely cul- 
tivated two beautiful trees of contrary na- 
tures, as a specimen of his skill in the 
several kinds, should be blamed for not 
bringing them into pairs; when in root, 
stem, leaf, and flower, each was so entirely 
different, that one must have been spoiled 
in the endeavour to match the other. 

Longinus, who saw this poem was " partly 
of the nature of comedy," ought not, for 
that very reason, to have considered it with 
a view to the Iliad. How little any such 
resemblance was the intention of Homer, 
may appear from hence, that although the 
character of Ulysses there was already 
drawn, yet here he purposely turns to an- 
other side of it, and shows him not in that 
full light of glory, but in the shade of com- 
mon life, with a mixture of such qualities as 
are requisite to all the lowest accidents of 
it, struggling with misfortunes, and on a 
level with the meanest of mankind. As for 
the other persons, none of them are above 
what we call the higher comedy: Calypso, 
though a Goddess, is a character of intrigue; 
the suitors yet more approaching to it; the 
Phfeacians are of the same cast; the Cy- 
clops, Melanthius, and Irus, descend even 
to droll characters; and the scenes that ap- 
pear throughout, are generally of the comic 
kind; banquets, revels, sports, loves, and 
the pursuit of a woman. 

From the nature of the poem, we shall 
form an idea of the Style. The diction is 
to follow the images, and to take its colour 
from the complexion of the thoughts. Ac- 
cordingly the Odyssey is not always clothed 
in the majesty of verse proper to tragedy, 
but sometimes descends into the plainer 
narrative, and sometimes even to that fa- 
miliar dialogue essential to comedy. How- 
ever, where it cannot support a sublimity, 
it always preserves a dignity, or at least a 
propriety. There is a real beauty in an 
easy, pure, perspicuous description even of 
a low action. There are numerous instances 
of this both in Homer and Virgil ; and per- 
haps those natural passages are not the 



638 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



least pleasing of their works. It is often 
the same in history, where the representa- 
tions of common, or even domestic things, 
in clear, plain, and natural words, are fre- 
quently found to make the liveliest impres- 
sion on the reader. 

The question is, how far a poet, in pur- 
suing the description or image of an action, 
can attach himself to little circumstances, 
without vulgarity or trifling ? what partic- 
ulars are proper, and enliven the image; 
or what are impertinent, and clog it ? In 
this matter painting is to be consulted, and 
the whole regard had to those circumstances 
which contribute to form a full, and yet not 
a confused, idea of a thing. Epithets are of 
vast service to this effect, and the right use 
of these is often the only expedient to render 
the narration poetical. The great point of 
judgment is to distinguish when to speak 
simply, and when figuratively: but when- 
ever the poet is obliged by the nature of his 
subject to descend to the lower manner of 
writing, an elevated style would be affected, 
and therefore ridiculous; and the more he 
was forced upon figures and metaphors to 
avoid that lowness, the more the image 
would be broken, and consequently obscure. 
One may add, that the use of the grand style 
on little subjects, is not only ludicrous, but a 
sort of transgression against the rules of 
proportion and mechanics: it is using a vast 
force to lift a feather. 

I believe, now I am upon this head, it 
will be found a just observation, that the 
low actions of life cannot be put into a 
figurative style without being ridiculous, 
but things natural can. Metaphors raise the 
latter into dignity, as we see in the Geor- 
gics ; but throw the former into ridicule, as 
in the Lutrin. I think tliis may very well 
be accounted for: laughter implies censure; 
inanimate and irrational beings are not ob- 
jects of censure: therefore these may be 
elevated as much as you please, and no 
ridicule follows: but when rational beings 
are represented above their real character, 
it becomes ridiculous in art, because it is 
vicious in morality. The bees in Virgil, 
were they rational beings, would be ridicu- 
lous by having their actions and manners 
represented on a level with creatures so 
superior as men; since it would imply folly 
or pride, which are the proper objects of 
ridicule. 



The use of pompous expression for low 
actions or thoughts is the true Sublime of 
Don Quixote. How far unfit it is for epic 
poetry, appears in its being the perfection 
of the mock epic. It is so far from being 
the sublime of tragedy, that it is the cause 
of all bombast; when poets, instead of be- 
ing, as they imagine, constantly lofty, only 
preserve throughout a painful equality of 
fustian; that continued swell of language, 
which runs indiscriminately even through 
their lowest characters, and rattles like 
some mightiness of meaning in the most in- 
different subjects, is of a piece with that 
perpetual elevation of tone which the 
players have learned from it; and which is 
not speaking, but vociferating. 

There is still more reason for a variation 
of Style in epic poetry than in tragic, to 
distinguish between that language of the 
Gods proper to the Muse who sings, and is 
inspired; and that of men who are intro- 
duced speaking only according to nature. 
Farther, there ought to be a difference of 
style observed in the speeches of human 
persons, and those of deities; and again, in 
those which may be called set harangues, 
or orations, and those which are only con- 
versation or dialogue. Homer has more of 
the latter than any other poet: what Virgil 
does by two or three words of narration, 
Homer still performs by speeches : not only 
replies, but even rejoinders are frequent 
in him, a practice almost unknown to Virgil. 
This renders his poems more animated, but 
less grave and majestic; and consequently 
necessitates the frequent use of a lower 
style. The writers of tragedy lie under the 
same necessity, if they would copy nature: 
whereas that painted and poetical diction 
which they perpetually use, would be im- 
proper even in orations designed to move 
with all the arts of rhetoric; this is plain 
from the practice of Demosthenes and 
Cicero; and Virgil in those of Drances and 
Turnus gives an eminent example, how far 
removed the style of them ought to be from 
such an excess of figures and ornaments: 
which indeed fits only that language of the 
Gods we have been speaking of, or that of 
a muse under inspiration. 

To read through a whole work in this 
strain, is like travelling all along on the 
ridge of a hill; which is not half so agree- 
able as sometimes gradually to rise, and 



POSTSCRIPT BY POPE 



639 



sometimes gently to descend, as the way 
leads, and as the end of the journey directs. 
Indeed the true reason that so few poets 
have imitated Homer in these lower parts, 
has been the extreme difficulty of preserv- 
ing that mixture of ease and dignity essen- 
tial to them. For it is as hard for an epic 
poem to stoop to the narrative with success, 
as for a Prince to descend to be familiar, 
without diminution to his greatness. 

The sublime style is more easily coun- 
terfeited than the natural; something that 
passes for it, or sounds like it, is common 
to all false writers: but nature, purity, per- 
spicuity, and simplicity, never walk in the 
clouds; they are obvious to all capacities; 
and where they are not evident, they do not 
exist. The most plain narration not only 
admits of these, and of harmony (which are 
all the qualities of style) but it requires 
every one of them to render it pleasing. 
On the contrary, whatever pretends to a 
share of the sublime, may pass, notwith- 
standing any defects in the rest; nay some- 
times without an}'^ of them, and gain the 
admiration of all ordinary readers. 

Homer, in his lowest narrations or 
speeches, is ever easy, flowing, copious, 
clear, and harmonious. He shows not less 
Invention, in assembling the humbler, than 
the greater, thoughts and images; nor less 
Judgment, in proportioning the style and the 
versification to these, than to the other. 
Let it be remembered, that the same genius 
that soared the highest, and from whom the 
greatest models of the Sublime are derived, 
was also he who stooped the lowest, and 
gave to the simple Narrative its utmost 
perfection. Which of these was the harder 
task to Homer himself, I cannot pretend to 
determine ; but to his translator I can affirm 
(however unequal all his imitations must 
be) that of the latter has been much more 
difficult. 

Whoever expects here the same pomp of 
verse, and the same ornaments of diction, 
as in the Iliad, he will, and he ought to be, 
disappointed. Were the original otherwise, 
it had been an offence against Nature ; and 
were the translation so, it were an offence 
against Homer, which is the same thing. 

It must be allowed that there is a ma- 
jesty and harmony in the Greek language 
which greatly contribute to elevate and 
support the narration. But I must also 



observe that this is an advantage grown 
upon the language since Homer's time ; for 
things are removed from vulgarity by being 
out of use: and if the words we could find 
in any present language were equally sono- 
rous or musical in themselves, they would 
still appear less poetical and uncommon 
than those of a dead one, from this only 
circumstance, of being in every man's 
mouth. I may add to this another disad- 
vantage to a translator, from a different 
cause: Homer seems to have taken upon him 
the character of an historian, antiquary, di- 
vine, and professor of arts and sciences, as 
well as a poet. In one or other of these char- 
acters he descends into many particulars, 
which as a poet only perhaps he would have 
avoided. All these ought to be preserved 
by a faithful translator, who in some mea- 
sure takes the place of Homer; and all tliat 
can be expected from him is to make them 
as poetical as the subject will bear. Many 
arts, therefore, are requisite to supply these 
disadvantages, in order to dignify and sol- 
emnize these plainer parts, which hardly 
admit of any poetical ornaments. 

Some use has been made to this end of 
the style of Milton. A just and moderate 
mixture of old words may have an effect 
like the working old abbey stones into a 
building, which I have sometimes seen to 
give a kind of venerable air, and yet not 
destroy the neatness, elegance, and equality 
requisite to a new work: I mean without 
rendering it too unfamiliar, or remote from 
the present purity of writing, or from 
that ease and smoothness which ought al- 
ways to accompany narration or dialogue. 
In reading a style judiciously antiquated, 
one finds a pleasure not unlike that of trav- 
elling on an old Roman way: but then the 
road must be as good, as the way is ancient; 
the style must be such in which we may 
evenly proceed, without being put to short 
stops by sudden abruptness, or puzzled by 
frequent turnings and transpositions. No 
man delights in furrows and stumbling- 
blocks: and let our love to antiquity be 
ever so great, a fine ruin is one thing, and a 
heap of rubbish another. The imitators of 
Milton, like most other imitators, are not 
copies but caricatures of their original; 
they are a hundred times more obsolete and 
cramp than he, and equally so in all places: 
whereas it should have been observed of 



640 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HOMER 



Milton, that he is not lavish of his exotic 
words and phrases every where alike, but 
employs them much more where the sub- 
ject is marvellous, vast, and strange, as in 
the scenes of Heaven, Hell, Chaos, &c., 
than where it is turned to the natural or 
agreeable, as in the pictures of paradise, 
the loves of our first parents, the entertain- 
ments of angels, and the like. In general, 
this unusual style better serves to awaken 
our ideas in the descriptions and in the 
imaging and picturesque parts, than it 
agrees with the lower sort of narrations, 
the character of which is simplicity and 
purity. Milton has several of the latter, 
where we find not an antiquated, affected, 
or uncouth word, for some hundred lines 
together; as in his fifth book, the latter part 
of the eighth, the former of the tenth and 
eleventh books, and in the narration of 
Michael in the twelfth. I wonder indeed 
that he, who ventured (contrary to the 
practice of all other Epic Poets) to imitate 
Homer's lownesses in the narrative, should 
not also have copied his plainness and per- 
spicuity in the dramatic parts: since in his 
speeches (where clearness above all is 
necessary) there is frequently such trans- 
position and forced construction, that the 
very sense is not to be discovered without 
a second or third reading: and in this cer- 
tainly he ought to be no example. 

To preserve the true character of Homer's 
style in the present translation, great pains 
have been taken to be easy and natural. 



The chief merit I can pretend to, is, not to 
have been carried into a more plausible and 
figurative manner of writing, which would 
better have pleased all readers, but the 
judicious ones. My errors had been fewer, 
had each of those gentlemen who joined 
with me shown as much of the severity of 
a friend to me, as I did to them, in a strict 
animadversion and correction. What assist- 
ance I received from them, was made 
known in general to the public in the ori- 
ginal proposals for this work, and the par- 
ticulars are specified at the conclusion of it; 
to which I must add (to be punctually just) 
some part of the tenth and fifteenth books. 
The reader will now be too good a judge, 
how much the greater part of it, and con- 
sequently of its faidts, is chargeable upon 
me alone. But this I can with integrity af- 
firm, that I have bestowed as much time 
and pains upon the whole, as were consist- 
ent with the indispensable duties and cares 
of life, and with that wretched state of 
health which God has been pleased to make 
my portion. At the least, it is a pleasure to 
me to reflect, that I have introduced into 
our language this other work of the great- 
est and most ancient of poets, with some 
dignity; and I hope, with as little disad- 
vantage as the Iliad. And if, after the un- 
merited success of that translation, any one 
will wonder why I would enterprise the 
Odyssey; I think it sufficient to say, that 
Homer himself did the same, or the world 
would never have seen it. 



APPENDIX 



APPENDIX 



A. A GLOSSARY OF NAMES OF 
POPE'S CONTEMPORARIES MEN- 
TIONED IN THE POEMS. 

This Glossary inchides only such names as 
from their importance, from Pope's frequent 
mention of them, or for some other obvious rea- 
son, could not profitably be treated in the Notes. 

Allen, Ralph. Friend and correspondent of 
Pope, and afterward patron of Fielding. 

Anstis. Garter King- at Arms. 

Arbuthnot, John (1675-1735). Physician, 
mathematician, and classical scholar. A Tory 
in politics. Member of Scriblerus Club. Friend 
of Pope, Swift, and Gay, whom he rivalled in 
satire. Swift said, ' He has more wit than we 
all have, and more humanity than wit.' 

Argyle, John, 2d Duke of (1678-1743). States- 
man, soldier, and lover of letters ; of a varied 
career both in war and in politics, but an honest 
man. 

Arnall, William. Party-writer and journal- 
ist, of whom Pope complains that he admitted 
having ' received, in the space of four years, no 
less than £1997 6s. 8d. out of the Treasury.' 

Atterburp, Francis, Bishop of Rochester. 
Friend of Pope and Swift. Banished as a plot- 
ting Jacobite in 1722, and thereafter influential 
at the court of the Pretender till his death in 
1731. 

Barnard, Sir John. Convert from Quakerism 
to the Church of England, member of Parlia- 
ment for London City, and an authority upon 
questions of finance ; Lord Mayor in 1 738. 

Bathurst, Allen Apsley, Lord, a Tory peer, 
was one of the most intimate of Pope's friends 
and associates. ' He united,' says Carruthers, 
'a sort of French vivacity' [' Bathurst im- 
petuous, whom you and I strive who shall love 
the most,' is the mention of him in Gay's cata- 
logue of Pope's friends] 'to English principles, 
and mingled freely in society till past ninety, 
living to walk under the shade of lofty trees 
which Pope and he had planted, and to see his 
son Lord Chancellor of England.' He died in 
the year 1774, at the age of ninety-one. (Ward.) 

Bentley, Richard. Master of Trinity College, 
Cambridge, and one of the great classical schol- 
ars of the time. 

Berkeley, Dr., Bishop of Cloyne. Author of 
Alciphron, and a man of great learning and 
probity. 

Bethel, Hugh. A Yorkshire gentleman with 
whom Pope was intimate, and frequently corre- 
sponded. He was a close friend of Pope's dear- 



est friends, the Blounts of Mapledurham. He 
died in 1748. (Ward.) 

Betterton, Thomas. Pope copied a portrait 
by Kneller of this famous actor, which is still 
extant. Betterton achieved success in all the 
major Shakespearean parts. 

Blackmore,'6\v Richard (1652-1729). Author 
of a philosophical poem called The Creation ; and 
immortalized as the Quack Maurusof Dryden's 
prologue to The Secular Masque. ' His inde- 
fatigable muse,' says Pope, 'produced no less 
than six epic poems : Prince and King Arthur^ 
twenty books; Eliza, ten; Alfred, twelve; 
The Redeemer, six; besides Job, in folio, the 
whole book of Psalms ; The Creation, seven 
books ; and many more, 'T is in this sense he 
is styled afterwards the Everlasting Black- 
more.'' 

Bladen. Colonel Martin Bladen was a man 
of some literature and translated Caesar's Com- 
mentaries. I never could learn that he had 
offended Pope. He was uncle to Wm. Collins, 
the poet, whom he left an estate. (Warton.) 

Bland. Dr. Bland was Provost of Eton, and, 
according to Warton, ' a very bad writer.' 

Blount, Martha. The woman for whom Pope 
seems to have cherished the feeling nearest akin 
to love. Indeed, it is supposed that if it had 
not been for the older sister Teresa, the attach- 
ment between Pope and Martha Blount might 
have come to marriage. 

Blount, Teresa. See previous note, and Bio- 
graphical Sketch. 

Bolingbroke, Henry St. John, Lord (1678- 
1751). Tory and High Churchman, one of the 
great orators of the day, and member of several 
ministries. Friend of Prior and Swift, and 
later of Pope, much of whose later work was 
influenced by the shallow philosophy of Boling- 
broke. 

Booth, Barton. Actor, especially noted for 
his articulation ; the original Cato in Addison's 
drama. 

Boyle, Henry, Lord Carleton. Nephew of 
the famous Robert Boyle. Secretary of State 
imder William III., and President of the Coun- 
cil under Queen Anne. (Pope.) 

Boyle, Richard, Earl of Burlington (1695- 
175)^). He took no prominent part in politics, 
although his high rank obtained for him a great 
post at court and the order of the Garter. But 
he obtained wide fame by his taste in archi- 
tecture, inspired by a natural love of art and 
educated by studies in Italy. Horace Walpole 
says of him that he 'had every quality of 
genius and artist, except envy.' (Ward.) 

Brydgesy James, Duke of Chandos. Friend 



644 



APPENDIX 



of Pope and master of the Estate of Canons, 
which Pope was supposed to have satirized 
(Moral Essays, Epistle IV. 98-126). Pay- 
master of the Forces, under Godolphin. 

Buckingham, Edmund, Duke of. Only son of 
John ^Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire, by 
Katherine Darnley, natural daughter of James 
II. (Roscoe.) 

Buckingham, more properly Buckingham- 
shire, John Sheffield, Duke of. See Sheffield. 

Budgell, Eustace (1685-1737). Kinsman and 
friend of Addison. Accompanied Addisoh to 
Ireland as clerk, and became Under-Secretary 
of State. Wrote thirty-seven numbers of The 
Spectator. Was accused of forging a will in his 
own favor, fell into disgrace and debt, and com- 
mitted suicide. 

Burlington, Richard Boyle, Earl of. See 
Richard Boyle. 

Campbell, John, 2d Duke of Argyle. See 
Argyle. 

Carey, Henry. Author of Sally in Our Alley ; 
and dramatist. 

Carleton, Henry Boyle, Lord. See Henry 
Boyle. 

Carteret, John, Earl Granville. Statesman, 
diplomat, and classical scholar. Political op- 
ponent of Walpole. 

Caryll, John. Member of one of the Ro- 
man Catholic families living in the neighbor- 
hood of Windsor Forest. The Rape of the Lock 
was due to his suggestion, and he remained a 
life-long friend of the poet, 

Chandos, James Brydges, First Duke of. See 
Brydges. 

Charteris, Francis. See Pope's note on Moral 
Essays, Epistle III., line 20. 

Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl 
of. The most accomplished man of his time, 
wit, diplomatist, statesman, arbiter of manners ; 
now mainly famous as the writer of the Letters 
to his Son. 

Cibher, CoUey (1671-1757). Actor, manager, 
and playwright ; author of The Careless Hus- 
band. He incurred the enmity of Pope by 
burlesquing the farce. Three Hours after Mar- 
riage, and eventually displaced Theobald as 
hero of The Dunciad, 

Cobham, Richard Temple, Lord. Sir Rich- 
ard Temple, created Viscount Cobham by 
George I. in 1718, and made a Field Marshal in 
1742, was on intimate terms with Pope during 
the latter part of the poet's life. Pope speaks, 
in his last letter to Swift, of ' generally ram- 
bling in the summer for a month to Lord Cob- 
ham's, the Bath, or elsewhere.' (Ward.) 

Congreve, William (1669-1728), of good family, 
well educated. Studied law, gained fame by 
his plays. One tragedy. The Mourning Bride, 
and several licentious comedies are now asso- 
ciated with his name. He was one of those 
who encouraged Pope's earliest efforts. To him 
Pope dedicated the translation of The Iliad. 

Cornbury, Lord. Afterwards Lord Hyde, ' a 
young Tory nobleman of literary tastes,' says 



W^ard, to whom Bolingboke addressed his Let- 
ters on History. 

Cowper, William, First Earl. Lord Keeper, 
in 1705, and one of the Lords Justices on the 
death of Queen Anne. 

Craggs, James. A man of low birth, who 
gained place and power. A friend of Pope's 
after 1711. Secretary of War in 1717, Secre- 
tary of State in 1720. His death in 1721 prob- 
ably prevented his conviction of fraud in con- 
nection with the South Sea affair. 

Curll, Edmund. A bookseller with whom 
Pope had for years a friendly connection, but 
who incurred Pope's resentment by publishing 
some of his private correspondence in 1727. The 
possible fact of his own complicity in the publi- 
cation did not prevent Pope from placing Curll 
in the pillory of The Dunciad. 

Dartineuf, Charles. A noted glutton. 

Demoivre. A French mathematician espe- 
cially famed for his skill in trigonometry. 

Dennis, John (1657-1734). A forcible though 
unrefined critic, by no means the dunce Pope 
makes him out. His attack on Addison's Cato, 
and Addison's reception of Pope's unsolicited 
championship of the play, led to the estrange- 
ment between Pope and Addison. Dennis was 
not slow to retort upon Pope, who never forgave 
an injury to his self-esteem. 

Digby, Robert. A frequent correspondent of 
Pope's during the years 1717 and 1724 ; died in 
1726, and was lamented by Pope iii a letter to 
his brother, Edward Digby, and in an epitaph. 

Dodington, Bubb, afterwards Lord Mel- 
combe, the author of a well-known diary, and 
the confidential adviser of Frederick, Prince of 
Wales. He is a character in many respects 
representative of his age ; utterly unconscien- 
tious and cheerfully blind to his unconscien- 
tiousness ; and a liberal rather than discrimi- 
nating patron of literary men. He died in 1762. 
(Ward.) 

Dorset, Charles Sackville, Earl of (1637-1706). 
Author of the ballad, ' To all you Ladies Now 
at Land,' some other songs, and a few satires. 
Belonged to the household of Charles II. and of 
William and Mary. He introduced Hudibras 
to notice, and was the friend and patron of 
Waller and Dry den. 

Duck, Stephen. A modest and worthy man, 
who had the honour (which many, who thought 
themselves his betters in poetry, had not) of 
being esteemed by Mr, Pope. Queen Caroline 
chose this man for her favourite poet. (War- 
burton.) 

Dunton, John. A broken bookseller and abu- 
sive scribbler ; he writ Neck or Nothing, a vio- 
lent satire on some ministers of state ; a libel 
on the Duke of Devonshire and the Bishop of 
Peterborough. fPope.) 

Durfey or D'Urfey, Thomas. A scribbler 
and poetaster who would now be unknown if 
Pope had not named him so frequently. 

Farquhar, George (1678-1707). An Irish actor 
I and writer of comedies, whose work has a good 



A GLOSSARY OF NAMES OF POPE'S CONTEMPORARIES 645 



deal of spirit. His two best-known plays are 
The Recruiting Officer and The Beaux'' /Strata- 
gem. 

Fenton, Elijah. A poet of no mean talent, 
and translator of four books of Pope's Odyssey. 

Fleury, Cardinal. Prime minister of France 
from 172() to his death, in 1743. 

Fortescue, Hon. W. An intimate friend and 
a frequent associate and correspondent of the 
poet's, and a schoolfellow of Gay's. He after- 
wards became one of the Barons of the Ex- 
chequer, and ultimately Master of the Rolls. 
(Ward.) 

Frowde, Philip. A dramatic writer and fine 
scholar, a friend of Addison's. (Carruthers.) 

Garth, Sir Samiiel. A physician, and author 
of the mock-heroic poem The Dispensary. He 
was one of the first to encourage the early efforts 
of Pope. 

Gay, John (1638-1732). A close friend of 
Pope and JSwift, a clever poet, and author of 
the famous Beggars'' Opera. 

Gildon, Charles (l()65-172-l) wrote a number of 
works, critical and dramatic. His plays were 
unsuccessful, but his Complete Art of Poetry 
(1718) is a work of considerable research and 
care. (Chambers.) 

Godolphin, Lord. Lord Treasurer under 
Queen Anne. He was Addison's patron, but 
Macaulay says of him, ' Most of the time which 
he could save from public business was spent in 
racing, card-playing, and coclc-fighting.' 

Gonson, Sir John. A hanging judge said to 
have been particularly severe in his punishment 
of unfortunate women. His portrait is sup- 

fosed to have been inserted by Hogarth in Plate 
II. of The HarloVs Progress. 

Grafton. Charles, second Duke of. 

Granville, George, afterward Lord Lans- 
downe (1667-1735). A poetical imitator of 
Waller ; Secretary of War under Queen Anne, 
and raised to the peerage in 1717. 

Grosvenor, Sir Thomas. A country baronet, 
member of Parliament. Remarkable for his 
obstinate independence. 

Hale, Dr. Stephen. Not more estimable for 
his useful studies as a natural philosopher than 
for his exemplary life and pastoral charity as a 
parish priest. (Pope.) 

Halifax, Charles Montagu, Earl of. A peer 
no less distinguished by his love of letters than 
his abilities in Parliament. He was disgraced 
in 1710, on the change of Queen Anne's ministry. 
(Pope.) 

Hare, Francis, Bishop of Chichester. Tutor 
at Cambridge of (Sir) Robert Walpole. 

Harley, Robert, Earl of Oxford and Earl 
Mortimer. Speaker of the House of Commons 
in 1701, Secretary of State in the Godolphin 
ministry. Subsequently created Earl of Oxford 
and appointed Lord Treasurer. A rival of 
Bolingbroke. Impeached for Jacobitism in 
1716 and imprisoned in the Tower. Died in 
1724. Subject of an epistle by Pope, p. 116, this 
edition. 



Hearne, Thomas. Antiquary. He revenged 
himself, says Ward, for the sarcastic reference 
to him in The JJunciad by ill-natured reflec- 
tions on Pope's education and parentage in his 
Diary. 

Henley, John. A native of Leicestershire, 
had graduated at Cambridge ; but set up a 
scheme of Universology on his own account, es- 
tablishing his ' Oratory ' in a wooden booth in 
Newport market in 1726. Three years later he 
removed his pulpit to the corner of Lincoln's 
Inn Fields, and though subjected to a prosecu- 
tion for profaning the clerical character, con- 
tinued his exhibitions till the middle of the 
century. (Ward). 

Hervey, John Lord. Author of Memoirs of 
the Reign of George II. ; a courtier, Vice Cham- 
berlain to George II., and later Lord Privy 
Seal. He married one of Pope's court friends. 
Miss Lepell (see The Challenge). The cause of 
Pope's enmity is unknown, but after the year 
1727 Pope lost no opportunity to asperse the 
character of the peer, alluding to him as ' Loi-d 
Fanny,' 'Fannius,' and finally 'Sporus.' {Epis- 
tle to Arbuthnot, 305-333.) 

Hopkins, ' Vulture.' See Pope's note on 
Moral Essays, III. 85. 

Jacob Tonson. See Tonson. 

Japhet Crook. A Londoner who amasses a 
large fortune by sharp practice. See Pope's 
note on Moral Essays, III. 86. 

Jervas, Charles. See head-note to the Epistle 
to Jervas, p. 82. 

Johnson, Charles. A second-rate dramatist. 
(Bowles.) 

Kneller, Sir Godfrey (1648-1726). A German 
by birth, state painter to English royalty from 
Charles II. to George I. 

Lansdoione, Lord. See George Granville. 

Lintot, Bernard. A publisher pilloried with 
Curll in The Danciad ; but he himself had pub- 
lished some of Pope's earlier work, to the ad- 
vantage of the poet. 

Marchmont, Earl of. A friend of Pope's, af- 
terward one of his executors. 

Mead, Dr. Physician to George II., and one 
of the eminent scientists of his day. 

Mist, Nathaniel. Editor of a famous Tory 
journal. (Pope.) 

Monroe, Dr. Physician to Bedlam Hospital. 
(Pope.) 

Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley. One of the 
most interesting women of her day. A fair 
scholar and a clever versifier. Pope became ac- 
quainted with her in 1715, when she was already 
married to a dull man ; and was for a time 
much attached to her. They quarrelled, and 
Pope thereafter lost no chance to insult her in 
prose and verse, commonly under the name of 
Sappho.' 

Moore, James, afterward Moore-Smythe- A 
member of Pope's own circle, and a friend of 
Teresa Blount's, but the object of Pope's last- 



646 



APPENDIX 



ing rancour. The inoffensive author of many 
verses and a comedy, The Rival Modes, in which 
occurred certain lines Avhich Pope accused him 
of having stolen from his lines to Martha Blount. 
Moore-fSmythe retorted the charge. 

Morris, Bezaleel. Author of some satires on 
the translators of Homer, with many other 
things printed in newspapers. (Pope.) 

Murray, William, afterwards Lord Mans- 
field. A man of wit and cultivation, the in- 
cumbent of many high offices. He earned 
Pope's friendship by defending the Essay on 
Man from the attacks of various critics. 

Oglethorpe, James Edward. Served under 
Prince Eugene, settled the colony of Georgia. 
'Mr. Croker suggests,' says Ward, ' that to his 
supposed Jacobite leanings may be attributed 
much of the animosity displayed by the Whigs 
toward him, as well as of the friendliness ex- 
isting between him and Pope and Johnson.' 

Oldfield, Mrs. The most famous comedienne 
of the age. 

Oldfield, Mr. This eminent glutton ran 
through a fortune of fifteen hundred pounds a 
year in the simple luxury of good eating. (War- 
burton.) 

Onslow, Arthur. Sprung from a family mem- 
bers of which had already in two instances filled 
the chair, was elected Speaker in 1728, and occu- 
pied the post for thirty-three years, to the satis- 
faction of both parties in the House. (Ward.) 

Osborne, Thomas. The bookseller who had 
the honour of a thrashing at the hands of Dr. 
Johnson ; a tricky and unreliable man against 
whom Pope had more than one grievance. 

Oxford, Robert Harley, Earl of. See Harley. 

Ozell, John. A translator of French plays, 
whom Pope several times ridicules. 

Page, Sir Francis. A justice popularly known 
as ' the hanging judge.' 

Parnell, Thomas (1679-1717). Poet, and 
member of the Scriblerus Club. He wrote the 
life of Homer for Pope's Iliad, and after his 
death Pope brought out an edition of his poems. 

Pelham, Henry. Became First Lord of the 
Treasury in 1743, through Walpole's influence ; 
and died in 1754, the King exclaiming on his 
death : ' Now I shall have no more peace I ' 
(Ward.) 

Peter (Walter). See Walter. _ 

Philips, Ambrose. Poet, Whig, and member 
of Addison's coterie. Author of the Pastorals 
with which Pope's were published, and frequent 
subject thereafter of Pope's satire. 

Polwarth. The Hon. Hugh Hume, son of 
Alexander, Earl of Marchmont, grandson of 
Patrick, Earl of Marchmont, and distinguished, 
like them, in the cause of liberty. (Pope.) He 
was made one of Pope's executors. 

Pulteney, William, afterward Earl of Bath. 
Orator and pamphleteer, and principal oppo- 
nent to Sir Robert Walpole. 

Queensbury, Duchess of. A leader of fashion 
and patron of letters ; friend of Gay and Swift. 



Ralph, James. A hack writer of American 
birth. Incurred Pope's anger by coming for- 
ward to defend Pope's victims in the first edition 
of The Dunciad. 

Rich, John. Manager of the Theatre Royal 
in Covent Garden. 

Rochester, Francis Atterbury, Bishop of. See 
Atterbury. 

Rolli, Paolo Antonio. An Italian poet, and 
writer of many operas in that language, which, 
partly by the help of his genius, prevailed in 
England near twenty years. He taught Italian 
to some fine gentlemen, who affected to direct 
the operas. (Pope.) 

Rowe, Nicholas (1673-1718) . Friend of Addi- 
son, editor of Shakespeare, and writer of plays 
in blank verse, among the best known of which 
are Jane Shore and The Fair Penitent. 

Rundel, Dr., Bishop of Derry. A friend of 
Pope and Swift, and frequently mentioned in 
their letters. 

Sackville, Charles, Earl of Dorset. See Dor- 
set. 

Sandys, Samuel, First Baron. Opponent of 
Sir Robert Walpole. A man of steady industry 
rather than of talent. 

Schutz, Augustus. Held, according to Carru- 
thers, court offices near the person of George 
II., both before and after his accession to the 
throne. 

Seeker, Thomas (1693-1768). Bishop of Bris- 
tol, later of Oxford, and finally Archbishop of 
Canterbury. Noted for his piety and liberality. 

Sheffield, John, Duke of Buckinghamshire 
(1649-1722). Author of an Essay on Poetry, 
which both Dryden and Pope praised, but which 
the modern critic finds of little value. 

Shippen, William. A free-speaking Jacobite, 
who was sent to the Tower in 1718. 

Shrewsbury, Charles Talbot, Duke of. Had 
been Secretary of State, Embassador in France, 
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Lord Chamberlain, 
and Lord Treasurer. He several times quitted 
his employments, and was often recalled. He 
died in 1718 (Pope). 

Smythe, James Moore-. See Moore. 

Somers, John Lord. He had been Lord 
Keeper in the reign of William III., who took 
from him the seals in 1700. The author had 
the honour of knowing him in 1706. A faithful, 
able, and incorrupt minister ; who, to the quali- 
ties of a consummate statesman, added those of 
a man of learning and politeness. (Pope.) 

Southern, Thomas (1660-1746). Author of 
Oroonoko, a play founded on Mrs. Behn's novel 
of the name, and very popular in its day. 

Stanhope, James Earl. A nobleman of equal 
courage, spirit, and learning. General in Spain, 
and Secretary of State. (Pope.) 

Talbot, Charles, Duke of Shrewsbury. See 
Shrewsbury. 

Temple, Richard, Lord Cobhara. See Cob- 
ham. 

Theobald, Lewis. Usually called Tibbald by 
Pope. Author aad translator. Editor of a 



Pages 2 to 29 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



647 



respectable Shakespeare, and critic of Pope's 
edition of the dramatist : therefore made hero 
of The Dunciad. 

Tibbald. ISee Theobald. 

Tickell, Thomas. A member of Addison's 
coterie, and author of numerous papers in the 
Spectator and Guardian ; notably the papers on 
English Pastoral which provoked Pope's en- 
mity. 

Tonson, Jacob. A leading bookseller in 
Pope's day, and publisher of much of his work. 

Trumbull, or Trumbal, Sir William, See 
Biographical Sketch in this edition, p. xiii. 



Vanbrugh, John, Sir (1066-172G). Architect 
and writer of comedies. Designer of Castle 
Howard and Blenheim, and author of The 
Provoked Wife and The Relapse. 

Villiers, George, Duke of Buckingham. Sea 
Buckingham. 



Walpole, Sir Robert. For twenty years 
Whig Prime Minister of England, and origi- 
nator of the present Cabinet system of gov- 
ernment. 

Walter, Peter. A London capitalist whom 
Pope frequently mentions (imder the name of 
Peter) as an example of ext^reme rapacity. 

Warwick, Lord. Son of the Countess of 
Warwick, whom Addison married. 

Wasse, Joseph. Fellow of Queen's College, 
Cambridge, and coeditor with Jebb of the Bib- 
liotheca Literaria. 

Welsted, Leonard. Journalist and Whig 
pamphleteer ; author of some satirical verses 
on Pope. 

Wharton, Philip, Duke of. Son of Addison's 
patron. A man of ability who died an exile, 
after a life of wild dissipation. 

Withers, General Henry. A distinguished 
soldier. In his old age the friend of Pope and 
Gay. 

Worthy, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. See 
Montagu. 

Wycherley, William_ ('1640-1715). Dramatist 
and one of Pope's earliest friends. 



Yonge, Sir William. A fop and small poet 
several times alluded to by Pope as ' Sir Will ' 
and 'Sir Billy.' 

B. NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page 2. To the Author of a Poem en- 
titled SUCCESSIO. 

Lines 19, 20. Bavins, Maevius, Chaerilus, 
Codrus. Minor Latin poets. See The Dun- 
ciad, Book III. 24 ; and note. 

Page 2. The First Book of Statius's 
Thebais. 

Line 24. The mighty Ccesar here refeiTed to 
is Domitian, to whom Juvenal as well as Sta- 
tins awarded divine honors. 



Line 62. The prophet. Amphiaraus. 

Line (55. T'he youth. Parthenopseus. 

Line 399. Such sons. Eteocles and Poly- 
nices. 

Line 470. Scyron. Pope evidently confounds 
the island of Scyros in the u^gean with the rocks 
between Megaris and Attica infested by the 
robber Sciron whom Theseus slew. See Ovid, 
Metam. vii. 444. (Ward.) 

Page 15. Spenser : The Alley. 

Stanza vi., line 5. Jo — n. Old Mr. John- 
ston, the retired Scotch Secretary of State, who 
lived at Twickenham. (Carruthers.) 

Page 21. Spring : or, Damon. 

Ijine 86. A wondrous tree, etc. An allusion 
to the Royal Oak, in which Charles 11. had 
been hid from the pursuit after the battle of 
Worcester. (Pope.) 

Line 90. The thistle springs, to which the lily 
yields. Alludes to the device of the Scots 
monarchs, the thistle worn by Queen Anne ; 
and to the arms of France, the fJeur de lys. 
(Pope.) 

Page 24. Autumn ; or, Hylas and ^gon. 

Line 7. Thou, whoin the Nine, etc. Mr. Wy- 
cherley, a famous author of comedies ; of which 
the most celebrated were The Plain-Dealer and 
The Country Wife. ^ He was a writer of infinite 
spirit, satire, and wit. The only objection made 
to him was that he had too much. However, 
he was followed, in the same way, by Mr. Con- 
greve, though with a little more correctness. 
(Pope.) 

Page 26. Winter ; or, Daphne. 

Mrs. Tfmpest. This lady was of an an- 
cient family in Yorkshire, and particularly ad- 
mired by the author's friend, Mr. Walsh, who, 
having celebrated her in a pastoral elegy, 
desired his friend to do the same, as appears 
from one of his letters, dated Sept. 9. 1706 : 
' Your last eclogue being on the same subject 
with mine on Mrs. Tempest's death, I should 
take it very kindly in you to give it a little 
turn as if it were to the memory of the same 
lady.' Her death having happened on the 
night of the great storm in 1 703, gave a pro- 
priety to this eclogue, which in its general 
turn alludes to it. The scene of the pastoral 
lies in a grove, the time at midnight. (Pope.) 

Lines 49, 50. The balmy zephyrs, etc. ' I 
wish,' said Johnson, ' that his fondness had not 
overlooked aline in which the zephyrs are made 
to lament in silence.' 

Lines 89-92. These four last lines allude to 
the several subjects of the four pastorals, and 
to the several scenes of them, particularized 
before in each. (Pope.) 

Page 28. Windsor Forest. 

Line 65. The fields are ravish'' d, etc. Allud- 
ing to the destruction made in the New Forest, 
and the tyrannies exercised there by William I. 
(Pope.) 

Line 80. Himself denied a grave. The place 
of his interment at Caen in Normandy was 
claimed by a gentleman as his inheritance, the 
moment his servants were going to put him in 
his tomb ; so that they were obliged to com- 



648 



APPENDIX 



Pages 29 to 73 



pound with the owner before they could per- 
form the king's obsequies. (Warburton.) 

Line 81. His second hope. Richard, Duke of 
Bernay, said to have been killed by a stag in 
the New Forest. (Ward.) 

Line 207. The river Loddon. 

Lines 211-216. These six lines were added 
after the first writing of this poem. (Pope.) 

Line 355-368. The allusions are of course to 
the expected peace, for which the conferences 
were opened in 1711 at Utrecht ; to the previous 
campaigns in Spain and Germany ; to the war 
between Peter the Great and Charles XII. ; 
and to the early difficulties of our East Indian 
settlements. (Ward.) 

Line 398. Unbounded Thames shall flow, etc. 
A wish that London may be made a free port. 
(Pope.) 

Page 52. The Temple of Fame. 

Line 1. In that soft season, etc. This poem 
is introduced in the manner of the Provengal 
poets, whose works were for the most part 
visions, or pieces of imagination, and constantly 
descriptive. From these, Petrarch and Chaucer 
frequently borrowed the idea of their poems. 
See the Trionji of the former, and Dream, 
Flower and the Leaf, etc., of the latter. The 
author of this; therefore, chose the same sort of 
exordium. (Pope.) 

Line 66. Four faces had the dome, etc. The 
Temple is described to be square, the four fronts 
with open gates facing the different quarters of 
the world, as an intimation that all nations of 
the earth may alike be received into it. The 
western front is of Grecian architecture ; the 
Doric order was peculiarly sacred to Heroes 
and Worthies. Those whose statues are after 
mentioned were the first names of old Greece 
in arms and arts. (Pope.) 

Line 81. There great Alcides, etc. This 
figure of Hercules is drawn with an eye to the 
position of the famous statue of Farnese. 
(Pope.) 

Line 96. And the great founder of the Persian 
name. Cyrus was the beginning of the Persian, 
as Minas was of the Assyrian monarchy. The 
Magi and Chaldaeans (the chief of whom was 
Zoroaster) employed their studies upon magic 
and astrology, which was in a manner almost 
the learning of the ancient Asian people. We 
have scarce any account of a moral philosopher 
except Confucius, the great law-giver of the 
Chinese, who lived about two thousand years 
ago. (Pope.) 

Line 111. The learning of the old Egyptian 
priests consisted for the most part in geometry 
and astronomy ; they also preserved the history 
of their nation. Their greatest hero upon record 
is Sesostris, whose actions and conquests may 
be seen at large in Diodorus, etc. (Pope.) 

Line 152. The yuuth that all things, etc. 
Alexander the Great. The tiara was the crown 
peculiar to the Asian princes. His desire to be 
thought the son of Jupiter Ammon caused him 
to wear the horns of that God, and to repre- 
sent the same upon his coins, which was con- 
tinued by several of his successors. (Pope.) 



Line 162. Timoleon, glorious in his brother^s 
blood. Timoleon had saved the life of his bro- 
ther Timophanes in the battle between the 
Argives and the Corinthians ; but afterwards 
killed him when he affected the tyranny, pre- 
ferring his duty to his country to all obligations 
of blood. (Pope.) 

Line 172. He whom ungrateful Athens, etc. 
Aristides, who for his great integrity was dis- 
tinguished by the appellation of The Just. 
When his countrymen would have banished 
him by the ostracism, where it was the custom 
for every man to sign the name of the person 
he voted to exile in an oyster-shell, a peasant, 
who could not write, came to Aristides to do 
it for him, who readily signed his own name. 
(Pope.) 

Line 206. Eliza. Elissa (Dido). 

Line 507. While thus I stood, etc. The hint 
is taken from a passage in another part of the 
third book, but here more naturally made the 
conclusion, with the addition of a moral to the 
whole. (Pope.) 

Page 63. The Fable of Dryope. Upon 
occasion of the death of Hercules, his mother 
Alcmena recounts her misfortunes to lole, who 
answers with a relation of those of her own 
family, in particular the transformation of her 
sister Dryope, which is the subject of the ensu- 
ing Fable. (Pope.) 

Page 67. An Essay on Criticism. Part I. 

Line 15. Let such teach others, etc. ' Qui 
scribit artificiose, ab aliis commode scripta 
facile intelligere poterit.' Cic. ad Herenn. lib. 
iv. ' De pictore, sculptore, fictore, nisi arti- 
fex, judicare non potest.' Pliny. (Pope.) 

Line 20. Most have the seeds of judgment, etc. 
' Omnes tacitoquodam sensu, sine uUa arte, aut 
ratione, quae sint in artibus ac rationibus recta 
et prava dijudicant.' Cic. de Orat. lib. iii. 
(Pope.) 

Line 25. So by false learning, etc. 'Plus 
sine doctrina prudentia, quam sine prudentia 
valet doctrina.' Quintilian. (Pope.) 

Line 98. Just precepts, etc. ' Nee enim 
artibus editis factum est ut argumentainvenire- 
mus, sed dicta sunt omnia antequara praecipe- 
rentur ; mox ea scriptoris observata et collecta 
ediderunt.' Quintilian. (Pope.) 

Line 180. Nor is it Homer nods, etc._ 'Mo- 
desto ac circumspect© judicio de tantis viris 
pronunciandum est, ne quod (quod plerisque ac- 
cidit) damnent quod non intelligunt.' Quin- 
tilian. (Pope.) 

Part II. Line 124. Some by old words, etc. 
' Abolita et abrogataretinere, insolentiae cujus- 
dam est, et frivolae in parvis jactantiae.' Quin- 
tilian. (Pope.) 

Line 128. Fungoso in the play. In Ben Jon- 
son's Every Man out of his Humour. 

Lines 147, 148. While expletives, etc. 'He 
creeps along with ten little words in every line, 
and helps out his numbers with /or, to, and unto, 
and all the pretty expletives he can find, while 
the sense is left half tired behind it.' Dryden, 
Essay on Dramatic Poetry. 

Line 245. Duck-lane i A place where old and 



Pages 75 to 95 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



649 



second-hand books were sold formerly, near 
Smitbfield. (Pope.) 

Part III. Line 27. And stares tremendous, 
etc. This picture was taken to himself by John 
Dennis, a furious old critic by profession, who, 
upon no other provocation, wrote ajjainst this 
essay and its author, in a manner perfectly lu- 
natic ; for, as to the mention made of him in v. 
270 (Part I.), he took it as a compliment, and 
said it was treacherously meant to cause him 
to overlook this abuse of his person. (Pope.) 
Dennis's unsuccessful ])lay, Appius and Vir- 
ginia, appeared in 1709. Tremendous was a 
favorite word of his. 

Line GO. Garth did not write, etc. A com- 
mon slander at that time in prejudice of that 
deserving author. Our poet did him this jus- 
tice when that slander most prevailed, and it is 
now (perhaps the sooner for this very verse) 
dead and forgotten. (Pope.) 

Line G-i. PauVs churchyard. St. Paul's 
Churchyard was long the headquarters of the 
booksellers. 

Line 157. Boscommon. Wentworth Dillon, 
Earl of Roscommon (1632-1684). A compara- 
tively chaste poet of the Restoration, and pro- 
jector of an English Academy of letters. 

Page 82. Epistle to Mr. Jervas. 

Line 40. This small well polish''d Gem, the 
work of years. Fresnoy employed above twenty 
years in finishing his poem. (Pope.) 

Line 60. Worsley^s eyes. Frances, Lady 
Worsley. 'The name,' says Carruthers, 'orig- 
inally stood Wortley, but the compliment was 
transferred from her [Lady Mary Wortley Mon- 
tagu] after her quarrel with Pope, by the al- 
teration of a single letter.' 

Page 88. The Rape of the Lock. Canto I. 

Lines 1-4. Before Pope's successes in verse 
admitted him to the best society in England, he 
had moved in a small circle of Roman Catholic 
families in the immediate neighborhood of 
Windsor. To one of these families belonged 
Miss Arabella Fermor, the Belinda of The Rape 
of the Lock ; to another, Lord Petre, called in 
the poem simply the Baron, the hero — or vil- 
lain — of the story ; and to a third belonged 
John Caryll. Lord Petre really stole a lock of 
Miss Fermor's hair, and some unpleasantness 
arose between the families in consequence. 
Caryll suggested to Pope that a humorous 
treatment of the incident in verse might help 
matters. 

Line 23. Birthnight Beau. A fine gentleman 
such as might be seen at the state ball given on 
the anniversary of the royal birthday. (Hales.) 

Line 44. Box, at the opera. Bing, a circus, 
or circular promenade, like that in Hyde Park, 
London. 

Lines 54-56. Succeeding vanities, etc. 

' Quae gratia currum 
Armorumque fuit vivis, quae cura nitentes 
Pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos.' 

^ntid, vi. (Pope.) 

Line 108. In the clear mirror, etc. The lan- 
guage of the Platonists. (Pope.) 



Canto II. Line 28. And beauty draws us with 
a single hair. In allusion to those lines of 
Hudibras, applied to the same purpose, — 

'And tho' it be a two-foot trout, 
'Tis with a single hair pull'd out.' 

(Warburton.) 

Line 38. Twelve vast French romances. Civ- 
ile, one of the popular French romances of the 
period, appeared in ten volumes of 800 pages 
each. (Hales.) 

Line 45. The Powers gave ear, etc. See 
^neid, xi. 794, 795. (Pope.) 

Line 74. Fays, Fairies, Genii, etc. This 
line obviously echoes Satan's address to his 
followers : — 

' Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers ! ' 

Paradine Lost, v. GOl. 

Line 106. Or some frail China jar, etc. Pope 
repeats this anti-climax in Canto iii. 159, below. 

Canto III. Line 27. Ombre and Piquet were 
the fashionable card games of Queen Anne's 
day. Ombre was a game of Spanish origin. 
The three principal trumps were called Mata- 
dores ; these are, in the order of their rank, 
Spadillio, the ace of spades ; Manillio, the deuce 
of clubs when trumps are black, the seven when 
they are red ; and Basto, the ace of clubs. 

Line 61. Mighty Pam. Pam, the knave of 
clubs, is the highest card in the game of Loo. 

Line 92. Just in the jaws of ruin, and Codille. 
Each has won four tricks. If the Baron, who 
is ' defending the pool,' takes more tricks than 
Belinda, who is 'defending the game,' he will 
'win the Codille.' 

Line 107. Altars of Japan. Small japanned 
tables. 

Line 123. Changed to a bird, etc. See Ovid, 
Metam. viii. (Pope.) 

Line 152. But airy substance soon unites again. 
Pope, in a note, refers us to the following pas- 
sage : — 

' But the ethereal substance closed, 
Not long divisible : and from the gash 
A stream of nectarous humor issuing flowed 
Sanguine, such as celestial spirits may bleed.' 

Paradise Lost, vi. 330-3Si. 

Lines 163-170. 

' Dum juga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit, 
Semper houos nomenque tuuiu, laudesque manebunt.' 
Virgil, Eclogues, v. 76-77. 

Line 165. Atalantis. The new Atalantis, by 
Mrs. Manley ; a book just then popular. 
Lines 176, 177. What wonder, then, etc. 

' Quid faciant crines, cum ferro talia cedant.' 

Catullus, de Com. Berenice. (Ward.) 

Canto IV. Line 1. But anxious cares, etc. 

' At regina gravi jamdudum sauoia cura 
Vulnus alit venis, et caeco carpitur igni.' 

JEneid, iv. 1. (Pope.) 

Line 24. Megrim. The ' megrims ' and ' the 
vai)ours ' were fashionable terms in Queen 
Anne's day for what we call ' the blues.' 



650 



APPENDIX 



Pages 96 to 140 



Line 51. Like Homer''s tripod. See Iliad, 
xviii. 372-381. 

Line 52. A Goose-pie talks. Alludes to a 
real fact ; a lady of distinction imagined her- 
self in this condition. (Pope.) 

Line G9. Citron-waters. Spirits distilled from 
citron-rind. 

Line 116. The sound of Bow. Within the 
sound of Bow-bells lay the least fashionable 
quarter, containing Grub Street, and other Bo- 
hemian haunts, as well as the dwellings of 
tradesmen. 

Line 119. Sir Plume. Sir George Brown. 
He was the only one of the party who took the 
thing seriously. He was angi-y that the poet 
should make him talk nothing but nonsense. 
(Warburton.) Thalestris (line 87) was Mrs. 
Morley, Sir George's sister. 

Canto V. Line 45. So when hold Homer, etc. 
See Homer, Iliad, xx. (Pope.) 

Line 53. Umbriel, on a sconce's height. Mi- 
nerva, in like manner, during the battle of 
Ulysses with the suitors, perches on a beam of 
the roof to behold it. (Pope.) 

Line 65. Thus on Mceander^s flowWy margin, 
etc. 

' Sic ubi fata vocant, udis abjectus in herbis, 
Ad vada Maeandri concinit albus color.' 

Ovid, Epistle vii. 2. (Pope.) 

Line 71. Now Jove suspends his golden scales 
in air. See Homer, Iliad, viii., and Virgil, 
j^neid, xii. (Pope.) 

Lines 89-96. The same, his ancient personage 
to deck, etc. In imitation of the progress of 
Agamemnon's sceptre in Homer, Iliad, ii. 
(Pope.) 

Lines 137-138. A hidden star, etc. 

' Flammiferumque trahens spatioso limite crinem 
Stella micat.' 

Ovid, Metam. xv. 849, 850. (Pope.) 

Line 37. Partridge. John Partridge was a 
ridiculous star-gazer, who in his almanacks 
every year never failed to predict the downfall 
of the Pope and the King of France, then at 
war with the English, (Pope.) Partridge was 
the butt of Swift's famous hoax in 1707. 

Page 102. Macer. 

Line 8. Crowne, John, a dramatist and 
adapter of plays, died 1698. 

Page 103. A Farewell to London. 

Stanza ii. C — s is evidently Craggs ; and 
H — k, as Carruthers interprets the hiatus. Lord 
Hinchinbrook, a young nobleman of sjiirit and 
fashion. (Ward.) 

Stanza viii., lines 3 and 4. Most likely Miss 
Younger and Mrs. Bicknell, sisters, both ac- 
tresses. (Carruthers.) 

Page 104. The Basset-Table. 

Line 99. The Groom-Porter was an officer 
in the King's household, who, under a provision 
exempting royalty from the laws against gam- 
bling, was enabled to provide a resort for Lon- 
don gamesters. 

Line 100. Some dukes at Mary-hone. The 
reference is supposed to have been to the Duke 



of Buckinghamshire, who frequented a bowl- 
ing-alley in Marylebone parish. 

Page 106. Epigram on the Toasts of the 
Kit-cat Club. 

The Kit-cat Club, named for Christopher 
Katt, a pastry-cook, numbered among its mem- 
bers most of the town wits, including Steele 
and Addison. 

Page 110. Eloisa to Abelard. 

Line 24. Forgot myself to stone. ' Forget thy- 
self to marble.' Milton, II Penseroso. The ex- 
pression 'caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn,' 
and the epithets 'pale-eyed,' 'twilight,' 'low- 
thoughted care,' and others, are first used in 
the smaller poems of Milton, which Pope seems 
to have been just reading. (Warton.) | 

Line 74. Curse on all laws, etc. 

' And own no laws but those which love ordains.' 
Drj'den, Cinyras and Myrrha. (Pope.) 

Line 212. Ohedient slumhers, etc. This line 
Pope confesses to having borrowed from Cra- 
shaw. 

Line 342. May one kind grave, etc. Abelard 
and Eloisa were interred in the same grave, or 
in monuments adjoining, in the Monastery of 
the Paraclete ; he died in the year 1142, she in 
1163. (Pope.) 
Page 120. Sandys' Ghost. 
Stanza x. Carey. Probably John Carey. 
Stanza xi. Jacob. Jacob Tonson. Pembroke. 
The Earl of Pembroke. 

Stanza xii. Tom Burnet. Son of Bishop 
Burnet. 

Stanza xiii. Justice Philips. Ambrose Philips. 
Page 128. 1740 : A Poem. 
These verses are supposed to be a fragment 
found by Lord Bolingbroke among Pope's pa- 
pers. There is much doubt about many of 
the persons referred to ; the readings here 
suggested being merely a choice among many 
suggested by Bowles and Carruthers. 
Page 137. An Essay on Man. Epistle I. 
Line 1. St. John. Henry St. John, afterwards 
Lord Bolingbroke, was the most intimate friend 
of Pope's later years. The themes treated in 
the Essay on Man had been much discussed 
between them ; it is, indeed, the shallow phi- 
losophy of Bolingbroke which supplies the sub- 
stance of Pope's argument. 

Line (i. A mighty maze, etc. The last verse, 
as it stood in the original editions, was — 

' A mighty maze of walks without a plan ; ' 

and perhaps this came nearer Pope's real opinion 
than the verse he substituted for it. (Lowell.) 

Line 102. The solar walk. The sun's orbit. 
Pope cites in this connection ' the ancient 
opinion that the souls of the just went thither.' 

Line 160. Young Amnion. Alexander the 
Great, who was saluted by the priests of the 
Libyan Jupiter Ammon as the son of their 
god. 

Line 170. And passions ore the elements of 
life. See this subject extended in Epistle IL 
from verse 100 to 122. (Pope.) 



Pages 140 to 161 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



651 



Line 213. The headlong lioness. ' The man- 
ner of the lion's hunting,' reads Pope's note/ is 
this : at their first going out in the night-time, 
they set up a loud roar, and then listen to the 
noise made by the beasts in their flight, pur- 
suing them by the ear, and not by the nostril.' 

Line 278. The rapt Seraph. Alluding to the 
name seraphim, signifying burners. (\Varbur- 
ton.) 

Epistle II. Line 22. Correct old Time, etc. 
This alludes to Sir Isaac Newton's Grecian 
Chronology. (Warburton.) 

Lines 71-74. Self-love still stronger, etc. 
Bowles quotes the following passage from 
Bacon : *■ The affections carry ever an appetite 
to good, as reason doth. The difference is, that 
the affection holdeth merely the present ; rea- 
son beholdeth the future and sum of time.' 

Epistle III. Line 68. Favour''d man. Sev- 
eral of the ancients, and many of the orientals 
since, esteemed those who were struck by light- 
ning as favoured persons, and the particular 
favourites of Heaven. (Pope.) 

Line 10-1. Demoivre. A noted French mathe- 
matician, and a friend of Sir Isaac Newton's. 

Epistle IV. Line 74. Mountains piled on 
mountains. Alluding to the Titans' attempt to 
scale Olympus. (Ward.) 

Line 9i). Lucius Gary, Lord Falkland (1610- 
1643), a brilliant young statesman and versifier, 
■was killed in the battle of Newburg, at the age 
of thirty-three. 

Lines 100-101. Henry, Vicomte de Turenne, 
and Sir Philip Sidney both fell in battle before 
their extraordinary powers had reached full 
maturity. 

Line 104. The Hon. Robert Digby, third son 
of Lord Digby, was a personal friend and cor- 
reSjDondent of Pope's. He died in 1726. 

Line 107. M. de Belsance was made bishop of 
Marseilles in 17(^. In the plague of that city, 
in the year 1720, he distinguished himself by 
his zeal and activity, being the pastor, the 
physician, and the magistrate of his flock whilst 
that hori-id calamity prevailed. (Warburton.) 

Line 110. Pope's mother died in 1733, shortly 
before this epistle was written, at the age of 
ninety-one. 

Line 123. Shall burning jEtna, etc. Allud- 
ing to the fate of those two great naturalists, 
Empedocles and Pliny, who both perished by too 
near an approach to iEtna and Vesuvius, while 
they were exploring the cause of their' erup- 
tions. (Warburton.) 

Line 12G. Blameless Bethel. Hugh Bethel, 
to whom the Imitations of Horace are ad- 
dressed. 

Line 220. Macedonians madman, etc. An 
epigrammatic expression will also tempt him 
into saying something without basis in truth ; 
as where he ranks together ' Macedonia's mad- 
man and the Swede,' and says that neither of 
them ' looked forward farther than his nose,' a 
slang phrase which may apply well enough to 
Charles XII., but certainly not to the pupil of 
Aristotle, who showed himself capable of a 
large political forethought. So, too [line 236], 



the rhyme, if correct, is sufficient apology for 
want of propriety in phrase, as where he makes 
Socrates ' bleed.' (Lowell.) 

Line 278. Lord Umbra. Bubb Dodington, 
called Bubo in the Epistle to Ai-buthnot (line 
280), where Sir William Yonge's name is again 
coupled with his. 

Lines 298-308. This passage evidently refers 
to the Duke of Marlborough. 

Page 157. Mokal Essays. Epistle I. 

Line 57. Manly. The hero of Wycherley's 
Plain-Dealer. The name was commonly ap- 
plied to Wycherley. 

Line 58. Umbra. Bubb Dodington. See 
note on Essay on Man, IV. 278. 

Line 61. A Queen. Queen Caroline, whom 
Swift, alluded to in the succeeding line, had 
satirized. 

Line 77. Catius. Charles Dartineuf , accord- 
ing to Carruthers. See Imitations of Horace^ 
Bk. 11. Ep. ii. 87, note. 

Line 81. Patricio. Conjectured by Warbur- 
ton to be Lord Godolphin. See Glossary, 

Line 89. A perjured prince. Louis XI. of 
France wore in his hat a leaden image of the 
Virgin Mary, which when he swore by he feared 
to break his oath. (Pope.) 

Line 90. A godless Regent tremble at a star. 
Philip, Duke of Orleans, Regent of France in 
the minority of Louis XV., superstitious in ju- 
dicial astrology, though an unbeliever in all 
religion. (Warburton.) 

Line 91. The throne, etc. Philip V. of Spain, 
who, after renouncing the throne for religion, 
resumed it to gratify his queen ; and Victor 
Amadeus II., king of Sardinia, who resigned the 
crown, and trying to resume it, was imprisoned 
till his death. (Pope.) 

Line 136. A saint in crape. That is, in the 
garb of the clergy. 

Line 179. Wharton. Philip, Duke of Whar- 
ton. See Glossary. 

Line 187. Wilmot. John Wilmot, Earl of 
Rochester, famous for his wit and extravagances 
in the time of Charles the Second. (Pope.) 

Line 231. Lanesb'row. An ancient nobleman, 
who continued this practice long after his legs 
were disabled by the gout. (Pope.) 

Line 247. Were the last words, etc. This 
story, like the others, is founded on fact, though 
the author had the goodness not to mention the 
names. Several attribute this in particular to a 
very celebrated actress who, in detestation of 
the thought of being buried in woollen, gave 
these her last orders with her dying breath. 
(Pope.) Warton says that the actress was 
Mr.-,. Oldfield. 

Epistle II. Of this Epistle, which was pub- 
lished in 1735, parts had been long before 
written and even printed. As originally pub- 
lished, it wanted the portraits of Philomede, 
Chloe, and Atossa. According to Warburton 's 
statement. Pope communicated the character 
of Atossa to the Duchess of Marlborough as 
intended for the Duchess of Buckingham ; ac- 
cording to Walpole he repeated the experiment 
vice versa. Immediately on the death of Pope, 



652 



APPENDIX 



Pages 161 to 165 



the Duchess of Marlborough applied to one of 
his executors, Lord Marchmont, with the view 
of ascertaining whether the poet had left be- 
hind him any satire on the Duke or herself. 
Marchmont consulted Bolingbroke ; and it was 
found that in the edition of the Moral Essays 
prepared for the press by Pope just before his 
death, and printed otf ready for publication, 
the character of Atossa was inserted. If Lord 
Marchmont made the statement attributed to 
him by the editor of his papers (Rose), Pope 
had received from the Duchess £1000, the ac- 
ceptance of which implied forbearance towards 
the house of Marlborough. If this be so, it is 
probable that the motive which prompted Pope 
to the acceptance of this ' favor ' was the de- 
sire to settle Martha Blount in independent cir- 
cumstances for life. (Ward.) 

Lines 7-14. Arcadia'' s Countess — Pastora 
by a fountain — Leda with a swan — Magdalen 
— Cecilia. Attitudes in which several ladies 
affected to be drawn, and sometimes one lady 
in them all. The poet's politeness and complai- 
sance to the sex is observable in this instance, 
amongst others, that whereas in the Characters 
of Men, he has sometimes made use of real 
names, in the Characters of Woinen always 
fictitious. (Pope.) 

Line 24. Sappho. A name for Lady Mary 
Wortley Montagu, first used by Pope in compli- 
ment, but later retained for purposes of abuse. 

Line 53. Narcissa. Warton says that Nar- 
cissa stands for the Duchess of Hamilton. The 
lines were adoi^ted from the earlier verses, which 
Pope had called Sylvia, a Fragvient. 

Line 83. Philomede. Henrietta, Duchess of 
Marlborough in her own right (daughter of 
Sarah), an admirer of Congreve. She married 
the second Earl of Godolphin. 

Line 107. Her Grace. This refers, according 
to Warton, to the Duchess of Montagu, with 
whom Lady Mary Wortley Montagu was inti- 
raiate. 

Line 115. Atossa. Sarah, Duchess of Marl- 
borough. In 1678 she was married to Colonel 
Churchill, and it was largely by her influence 
that he was made Duke of Marlborough. 

Lines 139, 140. The bust and temple rise. 
This alludes to a temple she erected with a bust 
of Queen Anne in it, which mouldered away 
in a few years. (Wilkes.) 

Line 157. Chloe. Lady Suffolk, mistress of 
George II., and friend of Pope, Swift, Gay, and 
Arbuthnot. See On a Certain Lady, etc., page 
11S._ 

Line 198. Mah''met. Servant to the late king 
(George I.), said to be the son of a Turkish 
Bassa, whom he took at the siege of Buda, and 
constantly kept about his person. (Pope.) 

Hale. Dr. Stephen Hale, not more esti- 
mable for his useful discoveries as a natural 
philosopher than for his exemplary life and 
pastoral charity as a parish priest. (Pope.) 

Line 251. The Bing. See note on The Bape 
of the Lock, Canto I. line 44. 

Lines 253-256. Originally the last four lines 
of the short poem called Erinna. 



Epistle III. This Epistle was written after 
a violent outcry against our author, on a sup- 
position that he had ridiculed a worthy no- 
bleman merely fer his wrong taste. He jus- 
tified himself upon that article in a letter to 
the Earl of Burlington ; at the end of which 
are these words : ' I have learnt that there are 
some who would rather be wicked than ridic- 
ulous : and therefore it may be safer to attack 
vices than follies. I will therefore leave my 
betters in the quiet possession of their idols, 
their groves, and their high places ; and change 
my subject from their pride to their meanness, 
from their vanities to their miseries ; and as the 
only certain way to avoid misconstructions, to 
lessen offence, and not to multiply ill-natured 
appHcations, I may probably, in my next, make 
use of real names instead of fictitious ones.' 
(Pope.) 

Line 20. John Ward, of Hackney, Esq. ; 
Member of Parliament, being prosecuted by the 
Duchess of Buckingham, and convicted of 
forgery, was first expelled the House, and then 
stood in the pillory on the 17th of March, 1727. 
He was suspected of joining in a conveyance 
with Sir John Blunt, to secrete fifty thousand 
pounds of that Director's estate, forfeited to 
the South-Sea Company by Act of Parliament. 
The company recovered the fifty thousand 
pounds against Ward ; but he set up prior con- 
veyances of his real estate to his brother and 
son, and conceal'd all his personal, which was 
computed to be one hundred and fifty thoiisand 
pounds. These conveyances being also set aside 
by a bill in Chancery, Ward was imprisoned, 
and hazarded the forfeiture of his life, by not 
giving in his effects till the last day, which was 
that of his examination. During his confine- 
ment, his amusement was to give poison to dogs 
and cats, and to see them expire by slower or 
quicker torments. To sum up the worth of this 
gentleman, at the several seras of his life. At 
his standing in the Pillory he was worth above 
two hundred thousand pounds; at his commit- 
ment to Prison, he was worth one hundred and 
fifty thousand ; but has been since so far dimin- 
ished in his reputation, as to be thought a worse 
man hj fifty or sixty thousand. (Pope.) From 
Pope's intimate acquaintance with Mr. Ward's 
career, it might almost be suspected that he is 
the same w'ho is enumerated among Pope's 
friends in Gay's poem (Ward.) 

Mr. Waters, the third of these worthies, was 
a man no way resembling the former in his 
military, but extremely so in his civil capacity ; 
his great fortune having been rais'd by the like 
diligent attendance on the necessities of others. 
But this gentleman's history must be deferred 
till his death, when his worth may be known 
more certainly. (Pope.) 

Fr. Chartres, a man infamous for all manner 
of vices. When he was an ensign in the army, 
he was drumm'd out of the regiment for a 
cheat ; he was next banish'd Brussels, and 
drumm'd out of Ghent on tlie same account. 
After a hundred tricks at the gaming tables, he 
took to lending of money at exorbitant interest 



Pages 165, 166 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



653 



and on great penalties, accumulating premium, 
interest, and capital into a new capital, and 
seizing to a minute when the payments became 
due ; in a word, by a constant attention to the 
vices, wants, and follies of mankind, he acquired 
an immense fortune. His house was a perpetual 
bawdy-house. He was twice conderan'd for 
rapes, and pardoned : but the last time not 
without imprisonment in Newgate, and large 
confiscations. He died in Scotland in ll'M, 
aged 62. The populace at his funeral rais'd a 
great riot, almost tore the body out of the coffin, 
and cast dead dogs, &c., into the grave along 
with it. The following Epitaph contains his 
character very justly drawn by Dr. Arbuthnot : 

HERE continueth to rot 

The Body of FRANCIS CHARTRES, 

Who with an inflexible constancy, 

and Inimitable Uniformity of Life, 

Persisted, 

In spite of Age and Infirmities, 

In the Practice of Every Human Vice ; 

Excepting Prodigality and Hypocrisy : 

His insatiable Avarice exempted him from the 

first, 

His matchless Impudence from the second. 

Nor was he more singular 

in the undeviating Pravity of his Manners 

Than successful 

in Accumulating Wealth. 

For, without Trade or Profession, 

Without Trust of Public Money, 

And without Bribe-worthy Service, 

He acquired, or more properly created, 

A Ministerial Estate, 
He was the only Person of his Time, 
Who could CHEAT without the Mask of Hon- 
esty, 
Retain his Primeval Meanness 
When possessed of Ten Thousand a Year, 
And having daily deserved the Gibbet for what 

he did., 

Was at last condemn'd to it for what he could 

not do. 

Oh Indignant Reader ! 

Think not his Life useless to Mankind ! 

Providence conniv'd at his execrable Designs, 

To give to After-ages 

A conspicuous Proof and Example, 

Of how small Estimation is Exorbitant 

Wealth in the Sight of GOD, 

By his bestowing it on the most UNWORTHY of 

ALL Mortals. 

This Gentleman was worth seven thousand pounds 
a year estate in Land, and about one hundred 
thousand in Money. (Pope.) 

And the Devil. Alluding to the vulgar opinion, 
that all mines of metal and subterraneous 
treasures are in the guard of the Devil : which 
seems to have taken its rise from the pagan 
fable of Plutus the God of Riches. (War- 
burton.) 

Line 35. Beneath the patriots cloak. This 
is a true story, which happened in the reign of 
William III., to an unsupected old patriot, who 
coming out at the back-door from having been 



closeted by the King, where he had received a 
large bag of guineas, the bursting of the bag 
discovered his business there. (Pope.) 

Line 4'2. Fetch or carry kings. In our 
author's time, many Princes had been sent 
about the world, and great changes of kings 
projected in Europe. The partition-treaty had 
disposed of Spain ; France had set up a king 
for England, who was sent to Scotland and 
back again ; the Duke of Anjou was sent to 
Spain and Don Carlos to Italy. (Pope.) 

Line 44. Or ship off senates. Alluding to 
several ministers, counsellors, and patriots ban- 
ished in our times to Siberia, and to that more 
glorious fate of the Parliament of Paris, ban- 
ished to Pontoise in the year 172U. (Pope.) 

Line 62. Worldly crying coals. Some misers 
of great wealth, proprietors of the coal-mines, 
had entered at this time into an association to 
keep up coals to an extravagant price, whereby 
the poor were reduced almost to starve, till one 
of them, taking the advantage of underselling 
the rest, defeated the design. One of these 
misers was worth ten thousaiid, another seven 
thousand a year. (Pope.) 

Line 65. Colepepper. Sir William Colepepper, 
Bart., a person of an ancient family and ample 
fortune, without one other quality of a gentle- 
man, who, after ruining himself at the gaming- 
table, past the rest of his days in sitting thereto 
see the ruin of others ; preferring to subsist 
upon borrowing and begging, rather than to 
enter into any reputable method of life, and re- 
fusing a post in the army which was offered 
him. (Pope.) 

Line 67. Whitens. The most fashionable 
of London gambling resorts. 

Line 82. Turner. A very wealthy miser. 

Line 84. Wharton. Philip, Duke of 
Wharton. 

Line 85. Hopkins. A citizen whose rapacity 
obtained him the name of Vulture Hopkins. 
He lived worthless, but died worth three hun- 
dred thousand pounds, which he would give to 
no person living, biit left it so as not to be in- 
herited till after the second generation. His 
counsel representing to him how many years it 
must be, before this could take effect, and that 
his money could only lie at interest all that 
time, he expressed great joy thereat, and said, 
' They would then be as long in spending, as he 
had been in getting it.' But the Chancery 
afterwards set aside the will, and give it to the 
heir at law. (Poi)e.) 

Line 86. Japhet, nose and ears? Japhet 
Crook, alias Sir Peter Stranger, was punished 
with the loss of those parts, for having forged 
a conveyance of an Estate to himselif, upon 
which he took up several thousand poimds. 
He was at the same time sued in Chancery for 
having fraudulently obtained a Will, by which 
he possessed another considerable Estate, in 
wrong of the brother of the deceased. By these 
means he was worth a great sum, which (in re- 
ward for the small loss of his ears) he enjoyed 
in prison till his death, and quietly left to his 
executor. (Pope.) 



654 



APPENDIX 



Pages 1 66 to i68 



Line 96. Die, and endow a College, or a Cat. 
A famous Duchess of Richmond in her last will 
left considerable legacies and annuities to her 
Cats. (Pope.) [Warton more than vindicates the 
memory of this famous beauty of Charles II. 's 
court from Pope's taunt by stating that she left 
annuities to certain poor ladies of her acquaint- 
ance, with the burden of maintaining some of 
her cats ; this proviso being intended to dis- 
guise the charitable character of the bequests. 
(Ward.) 

Line 99. Bond damns the poor, SfC. This 
epistle was written in the year 1730, when a 
corporation was established to lend money to 
the poor upon pledges, by the name of the 
Charitable Corporation ; but the whole was 
turned only to an iniquitous method of enriching 
particular people, to the ruin of such numbers, 
that it became a parliamentary concern to en- 
deavour the relief of those unhappy sufferers, 
and three of the managers, who were members 
of the house, were expell'd. By the report of 
the committee, appointed to enquire into that 
iniquitous affair, it appears, that when it was 
objected to the intended removal of the office, 
that the Poor, for whose use it was erected, 
would be hurt by it. Bond, one of the Directors, 
replied, Damn the poor. That ' God hates the 
poor,' and, ' That every man in want is knave 
or fool," &c. were the genuine apothegms of 
some of the persons here mentioned. (Pope.) 
Dennis Bond, a member of Parliament, died in 
1747. (Carruthers.) 

Line 100. Sir Gilbert Heathcote, director of 
the Bank of England, and one of the richest 
men of his day. (Ward.) 

Line 117. South-Sea Year. 1720. Pope 
was involved in the speculation, but is sup- 
posed to have escaped without loss. 

Line 118. To live on venison. In the ex- 
travagance and luxury of the South-Sea year, 
the price of a haunch of venison was from 
three to five poiands. 

Line 121. Sappho. This is a particularly 
gratuitous insult, as Lady Mary Wortley 
Montagu invested in South-Sea stock by Pope's 
advice and lost her money. 

Line 123. Wise Peter. Peter Walter, a person 
not only eminent in the wisdom of his profes- 
sion, as a dextrous attorney, but allowed to be 
a good, if not a safe conveyancer ; extremely 
respected by the Nobility of this land, tho' free 
from all manner of luxury and ostentation : his 
Wealth was never seen, and his bounty never 
heard of, except to his own son, for whom he 
procured an employment of considerable profit, 
of which he gave him as much as was necessary. 
Therefore the taxing this gentleman with any 
Ambition, is certainly a great wrong to him. 
(Pope.) 

Line 126. Eome''s great Didius. A Roman 
Lawyer, so rich as to purchase the Empire when 
it was set to sale upon the death of Pertinax. 
(Pope.) Didius Julianus A. D. 193. The vendors 
were the Praetorian Guards. (Ward.) 

Line 127. The Crown of Poland, Src. Tlie 
two persons here mentioned were of Quality, 



each of whom in the Mississippi despis'd to 
realize above three hundred thousand pounds; 
the Gentleman with a view to the purchase of 
the Crown of Poland, the Lady on a vision of 
the like royal nature. They since retired into 
Spain, where they are still in search of gold in 
the mines of the Asturies. (Pope.) 

Line 128. A Mr. Gage, of the ancient Suf- 
folk Catholic family of that name ; and Lady 
Mary Herbert, daughter of the Marquess of 
Powis and of a natural daughter of James II. : 
whence the phrase ' hereditary realm.' (Bowles.) 

Line 133. Much injured Blunt. Sir John 
Blunt, originally a scrivener, was one of the first 
projectors of the South-Sea Company, and after- 
wards one of the directors and chief managers 
of the famous scheme in 1720. He was also 
one of those who suffer'd most severely by the 
bill of pains and penalties on the said direc- 
tors. (Pope.) 

Line 177. Old Cotta. Supposed to be the 
Duke of Newcastle, who died in 1711 ; and his 
son, the well-known peer of that name, who 
afterwards became prime minister. (Car- 
ruthers.) 

Line 243. Oxford''s better part. Edward 
Harley, Earl of Oxford. The son of Robert, 
created Earl of Oxford and Earl Mortimer by 
Queen Anne. This Nobleman died regretted 
by all men of letters, great numbers of whom 
had experienced his benefits. He left behind 
him one of the most noble Libraries in Eui'ope. 
(Pope.) 

lAne 250. The Man of Boss. The person 
here celebrated, who with a small Estate actu- 
ally performed all these good works, and whose 
true name was almost lost (partly by the title 
of the Man of Boss given him by way of emi- 
nence, and partlj^ bj^ being buried without so 
much as an inscription) was called Mr. John 
Kyrle. He died in the year 1724, aged 90, and 
lies interred in the chancel of the church of 
Ross in Herefordshire. (Pope.) 

We must understand what is here said, of 
actually perforining, to mean by the contribu- 
tions which the Man of Boss, by his assiduity 
and interest, collected in his neighbourhood. 
(Warburton.) 

Line 296. Eternal buckle, etc. The poet 
ridicules the wretched taste of carving large 
periwigs on bustos, of which there are several 
vile examples at Westminster and elsewhere. 
(Pope.) 

Line 305. Great Villiers lies. This Lord, yet 
more famous for his vices than his misfortunes, 
after having been possess'd of about £50,000 a 
year, and passed thro' many of the highest posts 
in the kingdom, died in the Year 1(>87, in are- 
mote inn in Yorkshire, reduced to the utmost 
misery. (Pope.) 

George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, the son 
of the first Duke (the favourite and minister of 
James I. and Charles I.), was born in 16JH7. He 
lost his estates as a royalist, but recovered them 
by his marriage with the dataghter of Lord 
Fairfax. He is the Zimri of the Absalom and 
Achitophel of Dryden, whom he had ridiculed 



Pages 169 to 176 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



655 



as Bayes in the burlesque play of The. Rehearsal. 
Thus we have portraits of this typical hero of 
the Restoration period by Dryden and Pope, as 
well as by Burnet and Butler, Count Grannuont 
and Horace Walpole. The tenant's house at 
which he died (in 1G87) was at Kirby Moor Side, 
near Helmsly in Yorkshire. (Ward.) 

Line 307. Cliveden. A delij^litful palace, on 
the banks of the Thames, built by the D. of 
Buckingham. (Pope.) 

Line 308. Shrewsbury. The Countess of 
Shrewsbury, a woman abandoned to gallantries. 
The Earl her husband was kill'd by the Duke 
of Buckingham in a duel ; and it has been said, 
that during the combat she held the Duke's 
horses in the habit of a page. (Pope.) 

Line 315. Sir John Cutler, a wealthy citizen 
of the Restoration period, accused of rapacity 
on account of a large claim made by his excu- 
tors against the College of Physicians, which he 
had aided by a loan. (Carruthers.) 

Line 339. Where London''s column, etc. The 
monument on Fish Street Hill, built in memory 
of the fire of London of 16GG, with an inscription 
importing that city to have been burnt by the 
Papists. (Pope.) 

Epistle IV. Line 7. Toj)ham. A gentleman 
famous for a judicious collection of drawings. 
(Pope.) 

Line 8. Pembroke. Henry, Earl of Pembroke, 
a patron of the arts, and owner of many valua- 
ble paintings. 

Line 10. Mead — Sloane. Two eminent phy- 
sicians ; the one had an excellent library, the 
other the finest collection in Europe of natural 
curiosities ; both men of great learning and 
humanity. (Pope.) Dr. Mead was physician 
to George II. ' He was, however,' says Ward, 
' the reverse of a bookworm ; for Johnson sajs 
of him that " he lived more in the broad sunshine 
of life than almost any man." ' Sir John or Hans 
Sloane was a skilled botanist and physician. 
His natural history collection is now preserved 
in the British Museum. 

Line 18. Ripley. This man was a carpenter, 
employed by a first Minister, who raised him to 
an Architect, without anj-^ genius in the art ; 
and after some wretched proofs of his insuffi- 
ciency in public buildings, made him Comptrol- 
ler of the Board of Works. (Pope.) 

Line 20. Bubo. Bubb Dodington. See 
Epistle to Arbuthnot, line 280. 

Line 23. You shoio us Rome, etc. The Earl 
of Burlington was then publishing the designs 
of Inigo Jones, and the Antiquities of Rome by 
Palladio. (Pope.) 

Line 46. Le Notre. Andr4 Le Notre (1613- 
1700), landscape-gardener of Louis XIV. 

Line 70. Stowe. The seat and gardens of the 
Lord Viscount Cobham in Buckinghamshire. 
(Pope.) 

Line 78. In a hermitage set Dr. Clarke. Dr. 
L. Clarke's busto placed by the Queen in the 
Hermitage, while the doctor duly frequented 
the court. (Pope.) Dr. Clarke was one of 
Queen Caroline's chaplains. 

Line 150. Never mentions Hell, etc. This is a 



fact ; a reverend Dean preaching at court 
threatened the sinner with punishment in ' a 
place which he thought it not decent to name in 
so polite an assembly.' (Pope.) 

Line Kii). Yet hence the poor, etc. The Moral 
of the whole, where Providence is justified in 
giving wealth to those who squander it in this 
manner. A bad taste employs more hands, and 
difiiuses expense more than a good one. (Pope.) 

Line 173. Another age, etc. Had the poet 
lived but three years longer, he had seen this 
prophecy fulfilled. fWarburton.) 

Lines 195-202. Till Kings . . . Bid Harbours 
open, etc. Tlie poet after having touched upon 
the proper objects of Magnificence and Expense, 
in the private works of great men, comes to 
those great and public works which become a 
prince. This Poem was published in the year 
1732, when some of the new-built Churches, by 
the act of Queen Anne, were ready to fall, being 
founded in boggy land (which is satirically 
alluded to in our author's imitation of Horace, 
Lib. ii. Sat. 2 : — 

' Shall half the new-built Churches round thee fall; ' 

others were vilely executed, thro' fraudulent 
cabals between undertakers, officers, &c. Da- 
genham-bi-each had done very great mischiefs ; 
many of the Highways throughout England 
were hardly passalDle ; and most of those which 
were repaired by Turnpikes were made jobs for 
private lucre, and infamously executed, even to 
the entrances of London itself : The proposal of 
building a Bridge at Westminster had been 
petition'd against and rejected ; but in two years 
after the publication of this poem, an Act for 
building a Bridge pass'd thro' both houses. 
After many debates in the committee, the exe- 
cution was left to the carpenter above-men- 
tioned, who would have made it a wooden one : 
to which our author alludes in these lines, 

' Who builds a Bridge that never drove a pile ? 
Should Ripley venture, aU the world would smile.' 

See the notes on that place. (Pope.) 

Page 176. Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. 
For John Arbuthnot see Glossary. 

Advertisement. Lines 6, 7. Of these papers 
the former was said to be a joint production of 
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu and Lord Hervej-; 
the latter was written by Hervey alone. See 
Carruthers' Life of Pope, ch. viii. 

Line 1. John Searl, Pope's body-servant for 
many j^ears. 

Line 8. An artificial grotto, constructed under 
a road, was one of Pope's fanciful improvements 
of his little estate at Twickenham. Twitenham 
or Twit'nam (line 21) are forms of the name 
affected by Pope. 

Line 13. The Mint, a place to which insolvent 
debtors retired, to enjoy an illegal protection, 
which they were there suffered to afford one 
another, from the persecution of their creditors. 
(Warburton.) 

Line 23. Arthur. Arthur Moore, a prominent 
politician, father of the James Moore-Smythe 
whom Pope so often ridiculed. 



656 



APPENDIX 



Pages 177 to i8o 



Line 40. ' Keep your piece nine years.'' 

' Novemque prematur in annum. ' 

Horace, De Arte Poetica, 388. 

Line 43. Term. The London ' season.' 

Line 51. Pitholeon, the name taken from a 
foolish poet of Rhodes, who pretended much to 
Greek. (Pope.) 

Line 53. Edmund Curll was a piratical book- 
seller who did Pope several ill turns, as in pub- 
lishing some of his private letters (see 113 be- 
low), and printing in his name various sorts of 
rubbish (see 351 below, and Pope's note). 

Line 54. The London Journal favored the 
Whigs. Pope was very little of a politician, 
but his leaning was toward the Tories. 

Line 60. In the early editions the line read — 

' Gibber and I are luckily no friends.' 

Pope's one attempt at dramatic writing. Three 
Hours after Marriage, written in connection 
with Gay and Arbuthnot, was a flat failure. 
The legitimate fun made of it by Colley Gibber 
was the source of a feud between them, which 
ended only in Gibber's being made the main 
figure in The Dunciad. 

Line 62. Bernard Lintot, after 1712, published 
much of Pope's work. 

Line 72. Sojne say his Queen. The story is 
told by some of his Barber, but by Ghaucer of 
his Queen. See Wife of Bath'' s Tale. (Pope.) 

Line 88. Alluding to Horace, Ode iii. 3 : — 

* Si fr actus illabatur orbis 
Impavidum ferient ruinae.' (Pope.) 

In translating this ode Addison had used the 
phrase ' the mighty crack ' (86 above), and Pope 
had ridiculed him for it. 

Line 100. Philips. Ambrose Philips, of 
whom Bishop Bolter became patron. 

Line 101. Sappho. Lady Mary Wortley 
Montagu. 

Line 118. You have an eye. It is remarkable 
that, amongst these complaints on his infirmities 
and deformities, he mentions his eye, which was 
fine and piercing. (Warburton.) 

Line 128. I lisped in numbers, 

' Sponte sua carmen numeros veniebat ad aptos, 
Et, quod tentabam dicere, versus erat.' 

Ovid, Tristia, 4, x. 25, 26. 

Line 135. Granville. George Granville, after- 
wards Lord Lansdown, known for his poems, 
most of which he composed very young. 
(Pope.) ^ 

Granville, Mr. Walsh, and Dr. Garth are 
mentioned in Pope's first note to the Pastorals 
as among those who encouraged him in his 
earliest efforts. 

Line 139. Talbot, Somers, Sheffield. These 
are the persons to whose account the author 
charges the publication of his first pieces, per- 
sons with whom he was conversant (and he adds 
beloved) at sixteen or seventeen years of age, 
an early period for such acquaintance. The 
catalogue might have been made yet more illus- 
trious had he not confined it to that time when 



he writ the Pastorals and Windsor Forest, on 
which he passes a sort of censure in the lines 
following [147-150]. (Pope.) 

Line 146. Burnets, etc. Authors of secret 
and scandalous history. (Pope.) 

liine 149. Fanny. Lord Hervey, the Sporus 
of lines 305-333 below. 

Line 151. Gildon. Charles Gildon, a critic 
who had abused Pope. 

Line 153. Dennis. John Dennis, a free-lance 
in letters, and one of the favorite butts of Pope's 
satire. It was he who indirectly caused the 
difference between Pope and Addison. See 
Glossary. 

Line 164. Slashing Bentleys, etc. Bentley's 
edition of Paradise Lost, which appeared in 
1732, was at once the last and the least worthy 
effort of his critical prowess ; as to Theobald's 
Shakspere, it was an honest and not wholly vin- 
successful piece of work, and a better edition 
than Pope's own. Bentley's Milton is better 
characterized in Lnitations of Horace, i. Ep. of 
ii. Bk. vv. 103-4. (Ward.) 

Line 179. The bard whom pilfer'd pastorals 
renown. Ambrose Philips. Charles Gildon 
ranked him with Theocritus and Virgil. 

Line 190. Tate. Nahum Tate was then poet 
laureate, ' the author of the worst alterations of 
Shakespeare,' says Professor Craik, 'the 
worst version of the Psalms of David, and the 
worst continuation of a great poem [Dryden's 
Absalom and Achitophel] extant.^ 

Lines 193-214. The famous passage on Addi- 
son had been published twelve years before the 
Epistle to Arbuthnot was written. Addison's 
name appeared in the earlier version. 

Line 218. On wings of winds, etc. Pope 
credits this line to Hopkins's paraphrase of 
Psalm civ. 

Line 232. Bufo probably stands for Lord 
Halifax. 

Line 236. And a true Pindar stood without a 
head. Ridicules the affectation of Antiquaries, 
who frequently exhibit the headless trunks and 
terms of statues, for Plato, Homer, Pindar, 
etc. (Pope.) 

Line 248. He helped to bury, etc. Mr. Dryden, 
after having lived in exigencies, had a magnifi- 
cent funeral bestowed upon him by the contri- 
bution of several persons of qualitj\ (Pope.) 

Line 256. Gay. John Gay (1688-1732), author 
of the famous Beggar'' s Opera, and one of Pope's 
best friends. In his last years he was taken 
excellent care of by the Duke of Queensbury 
(260, below), and died by no means a pauper. 

Line 280. Sir Will or Bubo. See Essay on 
Man, IV. 278 and note. 

Line 299, The Dean and Silver Bell. Pope 
had been accused of ridiculing, in the Essay 
on Taste, the furniture and appointments of 
Canons, the seat of the Duke of Chandos, 
where Pope had been received. Pope's denial 
of the charge was accepted by the Duke. 

Line 305. Sporus is John Lord Hervey, a 
well-known court favorite. He seems to have 
been at least harmless. Pope, for some un- 
known reason, conceived one of his violent 



Pages i8i to il 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



657 



antipathies for him ; and the following- lines, 
hardly less celebrated than those on Addison, 
are the result. 

Line 350. The tale revived, etc. As that he 
received subscriptions to Shakespear, that he 
set his name to Mr. Broome's verses, etc., which, 
though publicly disproved, were nevertheless 
repeated in the libels. (Pope.) 

Line 351. Th^ imputed trash. This imputed 
trash, such as profane psalms, court poems, and 
other scandalous things, printed in his name by 
Curll and others. (Pope.) 

Line 365. Knight of the post corrupt. The so- 
called Knights of the Post stood about the sher- 
iff's pillars near the courts, in readiness to swear 
anything for pay. (Ward.) 

Line 371. Friend to his distress. In 1733 Pope 
wrote a prologue to a play given for the benefit 
of Dennis, who was then old, blind, and not far 
from death. 

Line 374. Ten years. It was so long after 
many libels before the author of the Dunciad 
published that poem, till when he never writ 
a word in answer to the many scurrilities and 
falsehoods concerning him. (Pope.) 

Line 375. Welsted''s lie. This man had the 
impudence to tell in print that Mr. P. had occa- 
sioned a lady's death, and to name a person he 
never heard of. (Pope.) 

Line 379. Budgell was charged with forging 
a will, with profit to himself. 

Lines 382-387. Pope has a long note on this 
passage, in which he goes much into detail to 
prove the respectability of his parents. 

Line 391. Bestia. L. Calpurnius Bestia, who 
here seems to signify the Duke of Marlborough, 
was a Roman proconsul, bribed by Jugurtha 
into a dishonorable peace. (Ward.) 

Line 393. Discord in a noble wife. Dryden 
had married Lady Howard, and Addison the 
Countess of Warwick. 

Line 397. He was a non-juror, and would not 
take the oath of allegiance or supremacy, or the 
oath against the Pope. (Bowles.) 

Line 417. Dr. Arbuthnot had been the favor- 
ite physician of Queen Anne. 

Page 182. Satires, Epistles and Odes of 
Horace Imitated. First Satire, Second Book. 

Line 6. Lord Fanny. Lord Hervey. 

Line 23. Sir Richard. Sir Richard Black- 
more. 

Lines 30, 31. Carolina. Queen Caroline. Ame- 
lia. Princess Amelia, second daughter of George 
II. 

Line 34. Their Laureate. Colley Cibber. 

Line 40. Peter. Peter Walter. 

Line 46. Scarsdale his bottle, Darty his ham- 
pie. Lord Scarsdale and Charles Dartineuf, 
famous epicures. 

Line 49. Fox. Probably Henry Fox, First 
Lord Holland. Hockley-hole.^ There was a 
noted bear-garden at Hockley-in-the-Hole. See 
the Spectaor, No 436. 

Line 52. Shippen. William Shippen, an out- 
spoken politician and a Jacobite, who was sent 
to the Tower in 1718. According to Coxe, he 
used to say of himself and Sir Robert Walpole, 



' Robin and I are two honest men ; though he 
is for King George and I for King James.' 
(Ward.) 

Line 81. Slander or poison dread. Alluding 
to a notorious rumor that a Miss Mackenzie had 
been poisoned by the Countess of Deloraine. 

Line 82. Page. Judge Page. See Epilogue 
to Satires, II. 56. 

Line 100. Lee. Nathaniel Lee (1657-1692), a 
tragic poet, author of The Rival Queens. 

Line 129. He whose lightning, etc. Charles 
Mordaunt, Earl of Peterborough, who in the 
year 1705 took Barcelona, and in the winter fol- 
lowing, with only 280 horse and 900 foot, enter- 
prised and accomplished the conquest of Valen- 
cia. (Pope.) 

Line 153. Sir Robert. Walpole. 

Page 184. Second Satire, Second Book. 

Mr. Bethel. Hugh Bethel. 

Line 25. Oldjield. This eminent glutton ran 
through a fortune of fifteen hundred pounds a 
year in the simple luxury of good eating. (War- 
burton.) 

Line 42. Bedford-head. A famous eating- 
house in Co vent Garden. 

Line 49. Avidien. Edward Wortley Monta- 
gu, the husband of Lady Mary. (Carruthers.) 

Line 175. Shades that to Bacon, etc. Gor- 
hambury, near St. Albans, the seat of Lord 
Bacon, was at the time of his disgrace conveyed 
by him to his quondam secretary. Sir J. Mean- 
tys, whose heir sold it to Sir Harbottle Grim- 
ston, whose grandson left it to his nephew 
(Wm. Lucklyn, who took the name of Grim- 
ston), whose second son was in 1719 created Vis- 
count Griraston. This is the 'booby lord' to 
whom Pope refers. (Ward.) 

Line 177. Proud Buckingham's, etc. Villiers, 
Duke of Buckinghana. (Pope.) The estate of 
Helmsley was purchased by Sir Charles Dun- 
combe, Lord Mayor in 1709, who changed its 
name to Duncombe Park. (Carruthers.) 

Page 187. First Epistle, First Book. 

Line 6. Modest Cibber, etc. Colley Cibber 
retired from the stage after a histrionic career 
of more than forty years in 1733; but returned 
in 1734 and did not make his ' positively last 
appearance' till 1745. (Ward.) 

Line 16. You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord 
Mayor'' s horse. The fame of this heavy Poet, 
however problematical elsewhere, was univer- 
sally received in the City of London. His ver- 
sification is here exactly described : stiff and 
not strong ; stately and yet dull, like the sober 
and slow-paced Animal generally employed to 
mount the Lord Mayor : and therefore here hu- 
morously opposed to Pegasus. (Pope.) 

Line 51. Cheselden. In answer to Swift's in- 
quiry who ' this Cheselden ' was, Pope informed 
him that C. was ' the most noted and most de- 
serving man in the whole profession of chirur- 
gery, and had saved the lives of thousands ' by 
his skill. There is an amusing letter from Pope 
to Cheselden in Roscoe's Life ad ann. 1737 ; 
speaking of the cataract to which v. 52 appears 
to allude. (Ward.) 

Line 85. Sir John Barnard. 



6;8 



APPENDIX 



Pages 188 to 197 



Line 89. Bug and D*l, etc. The meaning of 
this line has not been deternained. 

Line 112. Augustus Schutz. See Glossary. 

Line 173. Hale. Dr. Hale of Lincoln's Inn 
Fields, a physician employed in cases of insanity. 
(Carruthers.) 

Line 177. Guide, Philosopher, and Friend. Lord 
Bolingbroke. See Essai/ on Man, IV. 390. 

Page 189. Sixth Epistle, First Book. 

The poem is dedicated to William Murray, 
afterwards Lord Mansfield. See Glossary. 

Line 1. Not to admire, etc. 

' Nil admirari prope res una, Numici, 
Solaque, quae possit facere et servare beatum.' 

Horace. 

The translation is, as Pope admits, that of Rich- 
ard Creech, translator of Homer and Lucretius. 

Line 45. Craggs''s. James Craggs's father 
had been in a low situation ; but by industry 
and ability, got to be Postmaster-General and 
agent to the Duke of Marlborough. For James 
Craggs's own career, see Glossary. 

Line 53. Hyde. Lord Clarendon, great- 
grandfather of the Lord Cornbury mentioned 
in line 61 below. 

Line 64. Tindal. See Pope's note on The 
Dunciad, II. 399. 

Line 82. Anstis, whom Pope often mentions, 
■was Garter King of Arms. (Bowles.) 

Line 87. Or if three ladies like a luckless play. 
The common reader, I am sensible, will be al- 
ways more solicitous about the names of these 
three Ladies, the unlucky Play, and every other 
trifling circumstance that attended this piece of 
gallantry, than for the explanation of our Au- 
thor's sense, or the illustration of his poetry ; 
even where he is most moral and sublime. But 
had it been in Mr. Pope's purpose to indulge so 
impertinent a curiosity, he had sought elsewhere 
for a commentator on his writings. (Warbur- 
ton.) Notwithstanding this remark of Dr. War- 
burton, I have taken some pains, though indeed 
in vain, to ascertain who these ladies were, and 
what the play they patronized. It was once said 
to be Young's Busiris. (Warton.) 

Line 121. KinnouVs lewd cargo, etc. Lords 
Kinnoul and Tyrawley, two ambassadors noted 
for wild immorality. (Carruthers.) 

Line 126. Wilmol. John Wilmot, Earl of 
Rochester. See Glossary. 

Page 191. First Epistle, Second Book. 

Line 38. Beastly Skelton. Skelton, Poet Lau- 
reate to Henry VIII., a volume of whose verses 
has been lately reprinted, consisting almost 
wholly of ribaldry, obscenity, and scurrilous 
language. (Pope.) This judgment of Skelton 
is of course unfair. 

Line 40. Chrises Kirk 0' the Green. A ballad 
by James I. of Scotland. 

Line 42. The Devil.^ The Devil Tavern, 
"where Ben Jonson held his Poetical Club. (Pope.) 

Line 66. Look in Stowe. Stowe's Annals of 
England appear to have been first published in 
1580. (Ward.) 

Line 91. Gammer Gurton. Gammer Gurton's 
Needle, according to Pope ' a piece of very low 



humour, one of the first printed plays in Eng- 
lish, and therefore much valued by some anti- 
quaries.' The earliest extant edition bears the 
date 1575, but it was probably first printed at 
least thirteen years before this. 

Line 92. The Careless Husband. By Colley 
Gibber. 

Line 109. Sprat, Carew, Sedley. Thomas 
Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, Thomas Carew, 
and Sir Charles Sedley ; all poets of the Resto- 
ration. 

Line 142. A verse of the Lord Lansdown. 
(Pope.) 

Lines 143-146. In horsemanship — rvrit ro- 
mance. The Duke of Newcastle's book of 
Horsemanship ; the romance of Parthenissa, by 
the Earl of Orrery ; and most of the French 
romances translated by persons of quality. 
(Pope.) 

Line 153. On each enervate string, etc. The 
Siege of Rhodes by Sir William Davenant, the 
first opera sung in England. (Pope.) 

Line 182. Ward. A famous Empiric, whose 
Pill and Drop had several surprising effects, 
and were one of the principal subjects of writ- 
ing and conversation at this time. (Pope.) 

Line 197. Peter. Peter Walter. 

Line 224. The rights a Court attacked, a poet 
saved. A reference to Swift's services as a 
pamphleteer, particularly as author of the 
Drapier s Letters. 

Line 289. Van. John Vanbrugh. See 
Glossary. 

Line 290. Astrcea. Mrs. Aphra Behn. 

Line 293. Poor Pinky. William Pinketh- 
man, a low comedian. 

Line 313. From heads to ears, and now from 
ears to eyes. From plays to operas, and from 
operas to pantomimes. (Warburton.) 

Line 319. Old Edward''s armour, etc. A 
spectacle presenting the Coronation of Henry 
VIII. and Anne Boleyn was produced in 1727 to 
celebrate the coronation of George II. and had 
a run of forty nights. 'The playhouses,' saj^s 
Pope, ' vied with each other to represent all 
the pomp of a coronation. In this noble con- 
tention, the armour of one of the Kings of Eng- 
land was borrowed from the Tower, to dress 
the Champion.' 

Line 331. Quin — Oldjield. James Quin and 
Mrs. Oldfield, the most popular comedians of 
their age. 

Line 355. Merlin'' s Cave. A building in the 
Royal Gardens of Richmond, where is a small 
but choice collection of books. (Pope.) 

Line 372. Dubbed historians. ' The office of 
Historiographer Royal,' says Ward, ' was fre- 
quently united to that of Poet Laureate.' 

Line 382. Great Nassau. William II. 

Line 387. Quarles. Francis Quarles, author 
of the Emblems. 

Line 413. This line, according to Carruthers, 
is quoted from an anonymous poem printed in 
Tonson's Miscellany in 1709. 

Line 417. Eusden, Philips, Settle. Lau- 
rence Eusden, Ambrose Philips, and Elkanah 
Settle. 



Pages 197 to 209 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



659 



Page 197. Second Epistle, Second Book. 

Line 1. Colonel. Colonel Cotterell of Kous- 
ham, near Oxford. (^Varton.) 

Line 4. This lad, sir, is of Blois. ^ A town 
in Beauce, where the French tonprue is spoken 
in great purity. (Warburton.) It will be re- 
called that it was to Blois that Addison went to 
learn French. 

Line 24. Sir Godfrey. Sir Godfrey Kneller. 
(Warburton.) 

Line 57. Maudlin''s learned grove. Magdalen 
College, Oxford University. 

Line 70. Ten Monroes. Dr. Monroe, physi- 
cian to Bedlana Hospital. (Pope.) 

Line 87. Oldjield — Dartineuf. Two noted 
gluttons. See Book II. ISatire i. 40. 

Line 113. Tooting — EarV s-court. Two vil- 
lages within a few miles of London. (Pope.) 

Lines 132-135. Murray — Cowper — Talbot. 
William Murray, afterward Lord Mansfield ; 
William, first Earl Cowper ; Charles Talbot, 
Duke of Shrewsbury. 

Line 139. Merlin'' s Cave. See note on Book 
II. Epistle 1, 355. 

Line 140. Stephen. Stephen Duck. 

Line 218. Golden angels. A golden coin 
given as a fee by those who came to be touched 
by the royal hand for the Evil. ^Warton.) 

Line 220. When servile Chaplains cry, etc. 
The whole of this passage alludes to a dedica- 
tion of Mr., afterwards Bishop, Kennet to the 
Duke of Devonshire, to whom he was chaplain- 
(Burnet.) 

Line 240. Heathcote. Sir Gilbert Heathcote. 

Line 273. Townshend — Grosvenor. Lord 
Townshend, Sir Thomas Grosvenor. Lord 
Townshend is said to have introduced the tur- 
nip into England from Germany. 

Line 274. Bubb. Bubb Dodington. 

Line 277. Oglethorpe. James Edward Ogle- 
thorpe. 

Page 202. Satires of Donne Versified. 
Satire II. Line 6. Sappho. Lady Mary 
Wortley Montagu. 

Line 36. Sutton. Sir Robert Sutton, ex- 
pelled from the House of Commons on account 
of his share in the frauds of the company called 
the Charitable Corporation. (Carruthers.) 

Line 80. Paul Benfield, a parliamentary 
financier, is suggested by Carruthers as the 
person here meant. 

Page 204. Satire IV. 

Line 30. Sloane — Woodward. Sir Hans 
Sloane, a natural historian ; and John Wood- 
ward, founder of a chair of Geology in Cam- 
bridge University. 

Line 73. Hoadley. Bishop Hoadley, here 
sarcastically referred to on account of his loy- 
alty to the House of Hanover. (Ward.) 

Line 95. Aretine. The Florentine poet who 
composed certain ill-favored sonnets to illus- 
trate some designs of Giulio Romano. 

Line 135. Holinsheds, or Halls, or Stowes. 
Tudor chroniclers. 

Line 177. Umbra. Bubb Dodington. 

Line 178. Fannius. Lord Hervey, whom 
Pope elsewhere calls ' Lord Fanny.' 



Line 200. Court in TT'^a.r. A famous show 
of the Court of France, in wax-work. (Pope.) 

Line 213. At Fig's, at White's. White's 
was a noted gaming-house ; Fig's, a prize- 
fighter's Academy, where the young nobility 
received instruction in those dajs. It was 
also customary for the nobility and gentry to 
visit the condemned criminals in Newgate. 
(Pope). 

Line 274. Hung with deadly sins. The room 
hung with old tapestry, representing the seven 
deadly sins. (Pope.) 

Page 208. Epilogue to the Satires. Dia- 
logue I. 

Lines 1-2. These two lines are from Horace ; 
and the only two lines that ai'e so in the whole 
poem ; being meant to be a handle to that 
which follows in the character of an imperti- 
nent Censurer, 'Ti's all from Horace, etc. 
(Pope.) 

Line 13. Sir Billy. Sir William Yonge. 

Line 14. Huggins. Formerly jailer of the 
Fleet prison ; enriched himself by many exac- 
tions, for which he was tried and expelled. 
(Pope.) 

Line 24. Patriots. This appellation was 
generally given to those in opposition to the 
court. Though some of them (which our au- 
thor hints at) had views too mean and interested 
to deserve that name. (Pope.) 

Line 20. The great man. A phrase by com- 
mon use appropriated to the First Minister. 
(Pope.) 

Line 39. A Joke on Jekyl. Sir Joseph Jekyl, 
Master of the Rolls, a true Whig in his princi- 
ples, and a man of the utmost probity. He 
sometimes voted against the Court, which drew 
vipon him the laugh here described of One who 
bestowed it equally upon Religion and Honesty. 
He died a f e w months after the publication of 
this poem. (Pope.) 

Line 51.^ Sejanus, Wolsey. The one the 
wicked minister of Tiberius ; the other, of 
Henry VIII. The writers against the Court 
usually bestowed these and other odious names 
on the Minister, without distinction, and in the 
most injurious manner. See Dial. II. v. 137. 
(Pope.) 

Fleury. Cardinal : and Minister to Louis XV. 
It was a Patriot-fashion, at that time, to cry up 
his wisdom and honesty. (Pope.) 

liine 66. Henley — Osborne. See them in 
their places in The Dunciad. (Pope.) 

Line 68. Sir William Yonge, not, as Bowles 
conjectures to be possible, Dr. Edward Young, 
author of The Night Thoughts, although to the 
latter Dodington (Bubo) was a constant friend. 
(Ward.) 

Line 69. The gracious Dew. Alludes to some 
court sermons, and florid panegyrical speeches ; 
particularly one very full of puerilities and flat- 
teries ; which afterwards got into an address in 
the same pretty style ; and was lastly served 
up in an Epitaph, between Latin and English, 
published by its author. (Pope.) An Epi- 
taph ' on Queen Caroline was written by Lord 
Hervey, and an address moved in the House oj 



66o 



APPENDIX 



Pages 209 to 213 



Commons (the Senate) on the occasion by H. 
Fox. (Carruthers.) 

Line 75. Middleton and Bland. Dr. Conyers 
Middleton, author of a Life of Cicero. Dr. 
Bland, of Eton, according to Burnet a very bad 
writer. 

Line 78. The'' Nation'' s Sense.'' Warburton 
says this was a cant phrase of the time. 

Line 80. Carolina. Queen Caroline, died in 
1737. 

Line 92. Selkirk — Delaware. Pope's note 
would seem to apply to the names here sug- 
gested : ' A title [was] given that lord by King 
James II. He was of the Bedchamber to King 
William ; he was so to George I. ; he was so to 
George II. TAi's lord was very skilful in all the 
forms of the House, in which he discharged 
himself with g^reat gravity.' 

Line 120. Japhet. Jajihet Crook. 

Line 121. Peter. Peter Walter. 

Line 123. If Blount. Author of an impious 
and foolish book called The Oracles of Reason, 
who being in love with a near kinswoman of his, 
and rejected, gave himself a stab in the arm, as 
pretending to kill himself, of the consequence 
of which he really died. (Pope.) 

Line 124. Fasseran ! Author of another 
book of the same stamp, called A Philosophical 
Discourse on Death, being a defence of suicide. 
He was a nobleman of Piedmont, banished from 
his country for his impieties, and lived in the 
utmost misery, yet feared to practise his own 
precepts ; and at last died a penitent. (Warbur- 
ton.) 

Line 125. But shall a Printer, etc. A fact 
that happened in London a few years past. 
The unhappy man left behind him a paper 
justifying his action by the reasonings of some 
of these authors. (Pope.) 

Line 129. This calls the Church to deprecate our 
Sin. Alluding to the forms of prayer, composed 
in the times of pubUc calamity ; where the fault 
is generally laid upon the People. (Warburton.) 

Page 210. Dialogue II. 

Line 11. Ev^n Guthry. The Ordinary of 
Newgate, who publishes the memoirs of the 
Malefactors, and is often prevailed upon to be 
so tender of their reputation, as to set down no 
more than the initials of their name. (Pope.) 

Line 39. Wretched Wild. Jonathan Wild, 
a famous thief, and thief-impeacher, who was 
at last caught in his own train, and hanged. 
(Pope.) 

Line 57. Ev''n Peter trembles only for his ears. 
Peter [Walter] had, the year before this, nar- 
rowly escaped the Pillory for forgery: and got 
off with a severe rebuke only from the bench. 
(Pope.) 

Line 66. ScarbWow. Earl of, and Knight of 
the Garter, whose personal attachment to the 
king appeared from his steady adherence to the 
royal interest, after his resignation of his great 
employment of Master of the Horse ; and whose 
known honour and virtue made him esteemed 
by all parties. (Pope.) He committed suicide 
in a fit of melancholy in 1740 ; and was mourned 
by Lord Chesterfield as ' the best man he ever 



knew, and the dearest friend he ever had.' 
(Ward.) 

Line 67. Esher\s peaceful Grove. The house 
and gardens of Esher in Surrey, belonging to 
the Honourable Mr. Pelham, Brother of the 
Duke of Newcastle. The author could not have 
given a more amiable idea of his Character than 
in comparing him to Mr. Craggs. (Pope.) 

Line 88. Wyndham. Sir William Wyndham. 

Line 99. The Man of Ross. See Moral Essays, 
Epistle III. lines 240-290. My Lord Mayor. 
Sir John Barnard. 

Line 132. St. John. Lord Bolingbroke. 

Line 133. Sir Roberts. Sir Robert Walpole. 

Line 158. Sherlock, Dr. William, Dean of St. 
Paul's, and the bete noire of the non-jurors in 
the reign of William III. (Ward.) 

Line 160. The bard. Bubb Dodington, who 
wrote a poem to Sir Robert Walpole from which 
the following line is quoted. 

Line 164. The Priest, etc. Pope disclaims 
any allusion to a particular priest, but the pas- 
sage is understood to refer to Dr. Alured Clarke, 
\yho wrote a fulsome panegyric to Queen Caro- 
line. 

Line 166. The florid youth. Lord Hervey. 
Alluding to his painting himself. (Bowles.) 

Lines 185-186. Japhet — Chartres. See the 
epistle to Lord Bathurst. (Pope.) 

Line 222. Cobwebs. Weak and light sophis- 
try against virtue and honour. Thin colours 
over vice, as unable to hide the light of truth, 
as cobwebs to shade the sun. (Pope.) 

Line 228. When black Ambition, etc. The 
course of Cromwell in the civil war of England ; 
(line 229), of Louis XIV. in his conquest of 
the Low Countries. (Pope.) 

Line 231. Nor Boileau turn the feather to a 
star. See his Ode on Namur ; where (to use his 
own words) ' il a fait un Astre de la Plume 
blanche que le Roy porteordinairement h son 
chapeau, et qui est en effet une esp^ce de Ge- 
mote, fatale h, nosennemis.' (Pope.) 

Line 236. Anstis. The chief Herald at Arms. 
It is the custom, at the funeral of great peers, 
to cast into the grave the broken staves and en- 
signs of honour. (Pope.) 

Line 238. Stair. John Dalrymple, Earl of 
Stair, Knight of the Thistle ; served in all the 
wars under the Duke of Marlborough ; and 
afterwards as Ambassador in France. (Pope.) 
Bennet, who supplies the blanks in v. 239 by 
the names of Kent and Grafton, has ' some 
notion that Lord Mordington kept a gaming- 
house.' (Ward.) 

Lines 240, 241. Hough — Digby. Dr. John 
Hough, Bishop of Worcester, and the Lord 
Digby. The one an assertor of the Church of 
England in opposition to the false measures of 
King James 11. The other as firmly attached 
to the cause of that King. Both acting out of 
principle, and equally men of honour and virtue. 
(Pope.) 

Line 255. Ver. 255 in the MS. 

' Quit, quit tliese themes, and write Essays on Man.' 
This was the last poem of the kind printed by 



Pages 214 to 227 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



661 



our author, with a resolution to publish no more ; 
but to enter thus, in the most plain and sol- 
emn manner he could, a sort of protest against 
that insuperable corruption and depravity of 
manners, which he had been so unhappy as to 
live to see. Could he have hoped to have 
amended any, he had continued those attacks ; 
but bad men were grown so shameless and so 
powerful, that Ridicule was become as unsafe 
as it was ineffectual. The Poem raised him, as 
he knew it would, some enemies ; but he had 
reason to be satisfied with the approbation of 
good men, and the testimony of his own con- 
science. (Pope.) 

Page 214. Book Second, Sixth Satire. 
Imitated after Swift. 

Line 84. October next it will be four. Swift is 
recalling the length of his service of the Tory 
Party. 

Line 85. Harley. Earl of Oxford. 

Line 125. At this point Pope's part in the 
imitation begins. 

Page 216. The Seventh Epistle of the 
First Book of Horace. 

Line 67. Child. Sir Francis Child, the banker. 
(Bowles.) 

Page 217. The First Ode of the Fourth 
Book of Horace. 

Line 8. Number five. The number of Mur- 
ray's lodgings in King's Bench Walk. 

Page 225. The Dunciad. Book I. 

Line 1. The Mighty Mother^ etc., in the first 
Edd. it was thus : — 

' Books and the Man I sing, the first who brings 
The Smithfield Muses to the ear of Kings,' etc. 

(Pope.) 

Line 2. The Smithfield Muses. Smithfield is 
the place where Bartholomew Fair was kept, 
whose shows, machines, and dramatical enter- 
tainments, formerly agreeable only to the taste of 
the Rabble, were, by the Hero of this poem and 
others of equal genius, brought to the Theatres 
of Covent-garden, Lincolns-inn-fields, and the 
Haymarket, to be the reigning pleasures of the 
Court and Town. This happened in the reigns 
of King George I. and II. See Book III. (Pope.) 

Line 30. Monroe. Physician to Bedlam Hos- 
pital. 

Line 31. His famed father. Caius Cassius 
Cibber, father of Colley Cibber ; a sculptor in a 
small way. ' The two statues of the lunatics 
over the gate of Bedlam Hospital were done by 
him,' says Pope, ' and (as the son justly says 
of them) are no ill monuments of his fame as an 
artist.' 

Line 40. LintoVs rubric post. Lintot, accord- 
ing to Pope, ' usually adorned his shop with 
titles in red letters.' 

Line 41. Hence hymning Tyburn'' s elegiac lines. 
It is an ancient English custom for the Malefac- 
tors to sing a Psalm at their execution at Ty- 
burn ; and no less customary to print Elegies 
on their deaths, at the same time, or before. 
(Pope.) 

Line 42. Magazines. The common name of 



those upstart collections in prose and verse, in 
which, at some times, — 

' New bom nonsense first is taught to cry ; ' 

at others, dead-born Scandal has its monthly 
funeral, where Dulness assumes all the various 
shapes of Folly to draw in and cajole the Rab- 
ble. The eruption of every miserable Scrib- 
bler ; the scum of every dirty News-paper ; or 
Fragments of Fragfments, picked up from every 
Dunghill, under the title of Papers, Essays, He- 
flections, Confutations, Queries, Verses, Songs, 
Epigrams, Riddles, etc., equally the disgrace of 
human Wit, Morality, Decency, and Common 
Sense. (Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 44. New-year Odes. Made by the Poet 
Laureate for the time being, to be sung at Court 
on every New-year's daj', the words of which 
are happily drowned in the voices and instru- 
ments. (Pope.) 

Line 57. Jacob. Jacob Tonson. 

Line 63. Clenches. Puns. Pope has a long 
note citing a punning passage from. Dennis 
aimed at himself. 

Line 86. In the former Editions, — 

' 'T was on the day when Thorold, rich and grave.' 

Sir George Thorold, Lord Mayor of London 
in the year 1720. The Procession of a Lord 
Mayor is made partly by land, and partly by 
water. — Cimon, the famous Athenian General, 
obtained a victory by sea, and another by land, 
on the same day, over the Persians and Barba- 
rians. (Pope.) 

Line 98. Heywood. John Heywood, whose 
interludes were printed in the time of Henry 
VIII. (Pope.) 

Line 103. Prynne, William, sentenced in 
1633 to a fine, the pillory, and imprisonment for 
his Histriomastix. Defoe was similarly pun- 
ished for his Shortest Way with the Dissenters. 

Line 103. Daniel. Daniel Defoe. 

Line 104. Eusden. Laurence Eusden, Poet 
Laureate before Cibber. 

Line 108. Bayes^s. The name of Theobald 
(Tibbald) stood here originally. This of course 
stands for Cibber. 

Line 126. Sooterkins. False births. (Ward.) 

Line 134. Hapless Shakespear, etc. It is not 
to be doubted but Bays was a subscriber to Tib- 
bald's Shakespear. He was frequently liberal 
this way; and, as he tells us, 'subscribed to 
Mr. Pope s Homer, out of pure Generosity and 
Civility ; but when Mr. Pope did so to his Non- 
juror, he concluded it could be nothing but a 
joke.' Letter to Mr. P., p. 24. 

This Tibbald, or Theobald, published an edi- 
tion of Shakespear, of which he was so proud 
himself as to say, in one of Mist's Journals, 
June 8, * That to expose any Errors in it was 
impracticable.' And in another, April 27, 
' That whatever care might for the future be 
taken by any other Editor, he would still give 
above five hundred emendations, that shall es- 
cape them all.' (Pope.) 

Line 141. Ogilby. Originally dancing master, 



662 



APPENDIX 



Pages 227 to 232 



then poet and printer. Author of a great many 
books which Pope ridicules in a note. 

Line 142. Newcastle. The Duchess of New- 
castle, one of the most copious of seventeenth- 
century writers. 

Line 146. Worthy Settle, Banks, and Broome. 
The Poet has mentioned these three authors in 
particular, as they are parallel to our Hero in 
three capacities : 1. Settle was his brother Lau- 
reate ; only indeed upon half-pay, for the City 
instead of the Court ; but equally famous for 
unintelligible flights in his poems on public 
occasions, such as Shows, Birth-days, etc. 2. 
Banks was his Rival in Tragedy (tho' more suc- 
cessful) in one of his Tragedies, .the Earl of 
Essex, which is yet alive: Anna Boleyn, the 
Queen of Scots, and Cyrus the Great are dead 
and gone. These he drest in a sort of Beggar''s 
Velvet, or a happy Mixture of the thick Fustian 
and thin Prosaic ; exactly imitated in PeroUa 
and Isidora, Ccesar in Egypt, and the Heroic 
Daughter. 3. Broome was a serving-man of 
Ben Jonson, who once picked up a Comedy from 
his Betters, or from some east scenes of his 
Master, not entirely contemptible. (Pope.) 

Line 153. l)e Lyra. Or Harpsfield, a very 
voluminous commentator, whose works, in five 
vast folios, were printed in 1472. (Pope.) 

Line 154. Philemon. Philemon Holland, 
Doctor in Physic. ' He translated so many 
books that a man would think he had done 
nothing else.' Winstanley. (Pope.) 

Lines 180, 181. As, forced from wind-guns, etc. 
Adapted from lines 17, 18 of the early verses, 
To the Author of Successio. 

Line 207. Ridpath — Mist. George Ridpath, 
author of a Whig paper, called the Flying-post ; 
Nathaniel Mist, of a famous Tory Journal. 
(Pope.) 

Line 214. Gazetteers. A band of ministerial 
writers, hired at the price mentioned in the note 
on Book II. ver. 316, who, on the very day their 
patron quitted his post, laid down their paper, 
and declared they would never more meddle in 
Politics. (Pope.) 

Line 215. Ralph. James Ralph. See III. 
163 below. 

Line 221. Hockley-hole. See Imitations of 
Horace, Book III. Sat. i. 49, and note. 

Line 232. Ward. Edward Ward. 

Lines 249-255. The works referred to here are 
Colley Gibber's. 

Line 257. ThuU. A fragmentary poem by 
Ambrose Philips, 

Line 289. A heideggre. A strange bird from 
Switzerland, and not (as some have supposed) 
the name of an eminent person. (Pope.) The 
allusion is of course to the 'eminent person,' 
the German Heidegger, who managed English 
opera. 

Line 296. Withers. ' George Withers was a 
great pretender to poetical zeal against the vices 
of the times, and abused the greatest personages 
in power, which brought upon him frequent cor- 
rection. The Marshalsea and Newgate were no 
strangers to him.' Winstanley. (Pope.) 

Gildon. Charles Gildon, a writer of criti- 



cisms and libels of the last age, bred at 
St. Omer's with the Jesuits ; but renouncing 
popery, he published Blount's books against 
the divinity of Christ, the Oracles of Reason, 
etc. He signalized himself as a critic, having 
written some very bad Plays ; abused Mr. P. 
very scandalously in an anonymous pamphlet 
of the Life of Mr. Wycherley, printed by Curll ; 
in another called the New Rehearsal, printed in 
1714 ; in a third, entitled the Complete Art of 
English Poetry, in two volumes ; and others. 
(Pope.) See note to Epistle to Arhuthnot, line 
151. 

Line 297. Howard. Hon. Edward Howard, 
author of the British Princes, and a great num- 
ber of wonderful pieces, celebrated by the late 
Earls of Dorset and Rochester, Duke of Buck- 
ingham, Mr. Waller, etc. (Pope.) 

Line 300. Under Archer'' s Wing. Undercover 
of a special license given to a member of the 
king's household, a gambling establishment was 
conducted in the royal palace. 

Line 323. Needham. Mother Needham, a 
notorious procuress. 

Line 325. The Devil. The Devil Tavern in 
Fleet Street, where these Odes are usually re- 
hearsed before they are performed at court. 

Page 230. Book II. 

Line 2. Henley'' s gilt tub. The pulpit of a 
Dissenter is usually called a Tub ; but that of 
Mr. Orator Henley was covered with velvet, and 
adorned with gold. He had also a fair altar, 
and over it this extraordinary inscription. The 
Primitive Eucharist. See tlae history of this 
person. Book III. ver. 199. (Pope.) 

Or Fleckno''s Irish throne. Richard Fleckno 
was an Irish priest, but had laid aside (as him- 
self expressed it) tlie mechanic part of priest- 
hood. He printed some plaj^s, poems, letters, 
and travels. I doubt not our Author took oc- 
casion to mention him in respect to the poem of 
Mr. Dryden, to which this bears some resem- 
blance, though of a character more different 
from it than that of the -^neid from the Iliad, 
or the Lutrin of Boileau from the Defait de 
Bouts Rim6es of Sarazin. (Pope.) 

Line 3. Or that whereon her Curlls, etc. An 
allusion to an experience of Edmund CurU's in 
the pillory. 

Line 15. Querno. Camillo Querno, a would-be 
poet of Apulia, introduced as a buffoon to Leo 
X. and given in return for his verses a mock 
coronation. 

Line 68. Jacob. Jacob Lintot. 

Line 70. Corinna. Supposed to refer to Mrs. 
Elizabeth Thomas, whom Pope accuses of hav- 
ing sold some private correspondence of his to 
Curll. 

Line 82. The Bible, Curll's sign ; the cross- 
keys, Lintot's. (Pope.) 

Line 93. Cloacina. The Roman Goddess of 
the sewers. (Pope.) 

Line 125. Mears, Warner, Wilkins. Book- 
sellers, and printers of much anonymous stuff. 
(Pope.) 

Line 126. Breval. Bond, Bezaleel [Bezaleel 
Morris]. Three small authors of the day. 



Pages 232 to 237 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



663 



Line 138. Cook shall be Prior. The man 
here specified writ a thing called The Battle of 
Poets, in which Philips and Welsted were the 
Heroes, and Swift and Pope utterly routed. He 
also published some malevolent things in the 
Bi'itish, London, and Daily Journals ; and at 
the same time wrote letters to Mr. Pope, pro- 
testing his innocence. His chief work was a 
translation of Hesiod, to which Theobald writ 
notes and half notes, which he carefully owned. 
(Pope.) 

Concanen. See note to line 299 below. 

Lines 149, 150. Tutchin — Ridpath, Roper. 
London editors of The Observator, The Flying 
Post, and The Post-boy, whom Pope, in long 
notes, accuses of scandalous practices. 

Line 157. Eliza. Eliza Hagwood, authoress 
of those most scandalous books called The Court 
of Carimania, and The New Utopia. (Pope.) 

Line 160. Kirkall. The name of an Engraver. 
Some of this lady's works were printed . . . 
with her picture thus dressed up before them. 
(Pope.) 

Line 205. Bentley his mouth, etc. Not spoken 
of the famous Dr. Richard Bentley, but of one 
Tho. Bentley, a small critic, who aped his uncle 
in a little Horace. (Pope.) 

Line 226. Thunder rumbling from the mustard 
bowl. The old way of making Thunder and 
Mustard were the same ; but since, it is more 
advantageously performed by troughs of wood 
with stops in them. (Pope.) 

Line 270. {As morning prayer and , flagellation 
end.) It is between eleven and twelve in the 
morning, after church service, that the crimi- 
nals are whipt in Bridewell. — This is to mark 
punctually the time of the day : Homer does it 
by the circumstance of the Judges rising from 
court, or of the Labourer's dinner ; our author 
by one very proper both to the Persons and the 
Scene of his poem, which we may remember 
commenced in the evening of the Lord-mayor's 
day : The first book passed in that night ; the 
next morning the games begin in the Strand, 
thence along Fleet-street (places inhabited by 
Booksellers) ; then they proceed by Bridewell 
toward Fleet-ditch, and lastly thro' Ludgate 
to the City and the Temple of the Goddess. 
(Pope.) 

Line 291. Smedley. Jonathan, editor of the 
Whitehall Journal, and author of an attack on 
Pope and Swift called Gulliveriana and Alex- 
anariana. 

Line 299. Concanen. Matthew Concanen, an 
Irishman, bred to the law. He was author of 
several dull and dead scurrilities in the British 
and London Journals, and in a paper called the 
Speculatist. In a pamphlet, called a Supple- 
ment to the Profund, he dealt very unfairly 
with our Poet, not only frequently imputing to 
him Mr. Broome's verses (for which he might 
indeed seem in some degree accountable, having 
corrected what that gentleman did) but those 
of the duke of Buckingham and others. To 
this rare piece somebody humorously caused 
him to take for his motto, De profundis clamavi. 
He was since a hired scribbler in the Daily 



Courant, where he poured forth much Billings- 
gate against the lord Bolingbroke, and others : 
after which this man was surjjrisingly promoted 
to administer Justice and Law in Jamaica. 
(Pope.) 

Line 400. ' Christ''s no kingdom here.'' This 
alludes to a series of sermons preached by Bishop 
Hoadley before George I. 

Line 411. Centlivre. Mrs. Susanna Centlivre, 
wife to Mr. Centlivre, Yeoman of the Mouth to 
his Majesty. She writ manj-^ Plays, and a Song 
(says Mr. Jacob) before she was seven years old. 
She also writ a Ballad against Mr. Pope's Ho- 
mer before he began it. (Pope.) 

Line 412. Motteux. Peter Anthony Motteux, 
the excellent translator of Don Quixote, and 
author of a number of forgotten dramatic pieces. 
Dryden addressed a complimentary Epistle to 
him. He died in 1718. (Carruthers.) 

Line 413. Boyer the State, and Law the Stage 
gave o''er. A. Boyer, a voluminous compiler 
of Annals, Political Collections, &c. — William 
Law, A. M. wrote with great zeal against the 
Stage ; Mr. Dennis answered with as great. 
Their books were printed in 1726. (Pope.) ^ 

Line 414. Morgan. A man of some learning, 
and uncommon acuteness, with a strong dispo- 
sition to Satire, which very often degenerated 
into scurrility. His most celebrated work is the 
Moral Philosopher, first published in the year 
1737. (Bowles.) 

Mandeville. Bernard de Mandeville was born 
in Holland, in 1670, and after residing in Eng- 
land during the latter half of his life, died in 
1733. (Ward.) 

Line 415. Norton, from Daniel, etc. Norton 
De Foe. 

Page 236. Book III. 

Line 19. Taylor. John Taylor, a Thames 
waterman and poet under Charles I. and James 

Line 21. Benlowes. A country gentleman, 
famous for his own bad poetry, and for patron- 
izing bad poets, as may be seen from many Dedi- 
cations of Quarles and others to him. Some of 
these anagram'd his name, Benlowes into Bene- 
volus : to verify which he spent his whole estate 
upon them. (Pope.) 

Line 22. Shad well nods, the poppy, etc. 
Shadwell [hero of MacFlecknoe] took opium 
for many years, and died of too large a dose, in 
the year 1692. (Pope.) 

Line 24. Mr. Dennis warmly contends, that 
Bavins was no inconsiderable author ; nay, that 
' He and Maevius had (even in Augustus's days) 
a very formidable party at Rome, who thought 
them much superior to Virgil and Horace : for 
(saith he) I cannot believe they woiild have fixed 
that eternal brand upon them, if they had not 
been coxcombs in more than ordinarj' credit.' 
Rem. on Pr. Arthur, part II. c. 1. An argument 
which, if this poem should last, will conduce to 
the honour of the gentlemen of The Dunciad. 
(Pope.) 

Line 28. Browne and Mears. Booksellers, 
and printers for anybody. (Pope.) 

Line 34, Ward in pillory. John Ward of 



664 



APPENDIX 



Pages 238 to 243 



Hackney, Esq., member of Parliament, being 
convicted of forgery, was first expelled the 
House, and then sentenced to the pillory on the 
17th of February, 1727. (Pope.) 

Line 96. The soil that arts and infant letters 
bore. Phoenicia, Syria, etc., where letters are 
said to have been invented. In these countries 
Mahomet began his conquests. (Pope.) 

Line 104. Bacon. Roger Bacon. 

Line 150. Jacob, the scourge of grammar. Giles 
Jacob, author of a Lives of the Poets, in which 
sufficiently obscure book he had abused Gay. 

Lines 152, 153. Popple, Horneck, and Eoome. 
London journalists and pamphleteers who had 
offended Pope. 

Line 15i. Goode. An ill-natured critic, who 
writ a satire on our author, called The Mock 
^sop, and many anonymous libels in newspa- 
pers for hire. (Pope.) 

Line 165. Palph. James Ralph. 

Line 168. Morris. Bezaleel Morris. See 
Book II. 126. 

199. Henley stands, etc. J. Henley the Ora- 
tor ; he preached on the Sundays upon Theolo- 
gical matters, and on the Wednesdays upon all 
other sciences. Each auditor paid one shilling. 
He declaimed some years against the greatest 
persons, and occasionally did our Author that 
honour. After having stood some Prosecutions, 
he turned his rhetoric to buffoonery upon all 
publick and private occurrences. This man had 
an hundred pounds a year given him for the se- 
cret service of a weekly paper of unintelligible 
nonsense, called the Hyp-Doctor. (Pope.) 

Line 2^4. Sherlock, Hare, and Gibson. Bish- 
ops of Salisbury, Chichester, and London ; 
whose sermons and pastoral letters did honour 
to their country as well as stations. (Pope.) 

Line 212. Woolston. Thomas. An impious 
madman, who wrote in a most insolent style 
against the miracles of the Gospel. (Pope.) 

Line 232. When Goodman prophesied. One 
Goodman had prophesied that Gibber would be 
a good actor, and Gibber had boasted of it. 

Line 233. A sable sorcerer. Dr. Faustus. 

Line 248. One vast egg. Pope says that in one 
of the absurd farces of the period. Harlequin 
is hatched upon the stage out of a large egg. 

Line 282. Annual trophies, on the Lord 
Mayor's day ; monthly wars, in the artillery 
ground. (Pope.) 

Line 305. Polypheme. A translation of the 
Italian opera Polifemo. 

Lines 308, 309. Faustus — Pluto. Names of 
miserable farces which it was the custom to 
act at the end of the best tragedies, to spoil the 
digestion of the audience. (Pope.) 

Line 310. The Mourning Bride. By Con- 
gee ve. 

Line 312. Insure it but from fire. In Tib- 
bald's farce of Proserpine, a corn-field was set 
on fire : whereupon the other play-house had a 
barn burnt down for the recreation of the 
spectators. They also rivalled each other in 
sharing the bui-nings of hell-fire, in Dr. Faustus. 
(Pope.) 

Line 313. Another ^schylus appears. It is 



reported of -^schylus that when his Tragedy 
of the Furies was acted, the audience were so 
terrified that the children fell into fits. (Pope.) 

Line 315. Like Semele^s. See Ovid, Met. 
iii. (Pope.) 

Line 325. On poets'* tombs see Benson^s 
titles writ ! W— m Benson (Surveyor of the 
Buildings to his Majesty King George I.) gave 
in a report to the Lords, that their House and 
the Painted-chamber adjoining were in imme- 
diate danger of falling. Whereupon the Lords 
met in a committee to appoint some other place 
to sit in, while the House should be taken down. 
But it being proposed to cause some other 
builders first to inspect it, they found it in very 
good condition. In favour of this man, the 
famous Sir Christopher Wren, who had been 
Architect to the Crown for above fifty years, 
who built most of the churches in London, laid 
the first stone of St. Paul's, and lived to finish 
it, had been displaced from his employment at 
the age of near ninety years. (Pope.) 

Line 328. While Jones' and BoyWs united 
labours fall. At the time when this poem was 
written, the banqueting-house at WhitehaU, 
the church and piazza of Covent-garden, and 
the palace and chapel of Somerset-house, the 
works of the famous Inigo Jones, had been for 
many years so neglected, as to be in danger of 
ruin. The portico of Covent-garden church 
had been just then restored and beautified at the 
expense of the earl of Burlington and [Richard 
Boyle] ; who, at the same time, by his publica- 
tion of the designs of that great Master and 
Palladio, as well as by many noble buildings of 
his own, revived the true taste of Architecture 
in this kingdom. (Pope.) 

Page 242. Book IV. This Book may pro- 
perly be distinguished from the former, by the 
name of the Greater Dunciad, not so indeed 
in size, but in subject ; and so far contrary to 
the distinction anciently made of the Greater 
and Lesser Iliad. But much are they mistaken 
who imagine this work in any wise inferior to 
the former, or of any other hand than of our 
Poet ; of which I am much more certain than 
that the Iliad itself was the work of Solomon, 
or the Batrachomuomachia of Homer, as Barnes 
hath affirmed. ' Bentley.' (Pope.) 

Line 15. A new world. In allusion to the 
Epicurean opinion, that from the Dissolution 
of the natural World into Night and Chaos a 
new one should arise ; this the Poet alluding 
to, in the Production of a new moral World, 
makes it partake of its orig^inal Principles. 
(Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 21. Beneath her footstool, etc. We are 
next presented with the pictures of those whom 
the Goddess leads in captivity. Science is only 
depressed and confined so as to be rendered use- 
less ; but Wit or Genius, as a more dangerous 
and active enemy, punished, or driven away: 
Dulness being often reconciled in some degree 
with learning, but never upon any terms with 
wit. And accordingly it will be seen that she 
admits something like each Science, as Casiiis- 
try, Sophistry, etc., but nothing like Wit, Opera 



Pages 243 to 248 



NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS 



665 



alone supplying its place. (Pope and Warbur- 
ton.) 

Line 30. Gives her Page the word. There was 
a Judge of this name, always ready to hang any 
Man that came before him, of which he was 
suffered to give a hundred miserable examples 
during a long life, even to his dotage. (Pope 
and Warburton.) 

Line 31. Mad Mathesis. Alluding to the 
strange Conclusions some Mathematicians have 
deduced from their principles, concerning the 
real Quantity of Matter, the Reality of Space, 
etc. (Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 3(3. Watched both byenvyh and hyflat- 
Vry''s eye. One of the misfortunes falling on 
Authors from the act for subjecting plays to the 
power of a Licenser, being the false representa- 
tions to which they were exposed, from such as 
either gratify'd their envy to merit, or made 
their court to greatness, by perverting general 
reflections against Vice into libels on particular 
Persons. (Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 45. A harlot form. Italian Opera. 

Line 110. Benson. See Book III. 325 ante, 
and note. Benson published several editions of 
Arthur Johnston's version of the Psalms. 

Line 113. The decent knight. Sir Thomas 
Hanmer, who in 174i published an edition of 
Shakespeare. 

Line 131. An alderman shall sit. Alluding to 
the monument erected for Butler by Alderman 
Barber. 

Line 144. Winton. Winchester. 

Line 151. The Samian letter. The letter Y, 
used by Pythagoras as an emblem of the differ- 
ent words of Virtue and Vice : ' Et tibi quae 
Samios diduxit litera ramos.' Persius. (Pope 
and Warburton,) 

Line 166. Yonder house or hall. Westmin- 
ster Hall and the House of Commons. (Pope.) 

Line 174. That masterpiece of man. Viz., an 
epigram. The famous Dr. South declared a per- 
fect epigram to be as difficult a performance 
as an Epic poem. And the critics say, ' An 
Epic poem is the greatest work human nature 
is capable of.' (Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 194. Tho' Christ Church,^ etc. Warbur- 
ton gives a note for which Pope is doubtless re- 
sponsible, accounting for the bracketing of this 
line on the score of its probable spuriousness, 
and signing the name ' Bentley.' 

Line 196. Still expelling Locke. In the year 
1703 there was a meeting of the heads of the 
University of Oxford to censure Mr. Locke's 
Essay on Human Understanding, and to forbid 
the reading it. See his Letters in the last Edit. 
(Pope.) But he was never expelled, only de- 
prived of his studentship at Christ-Church ; and 
this on the ground of political suspicions, before 
he had written his great Essay. (Ward.) 

Line 198. Crousaz — Burgersdyck. According 
to Dugald Stewart, Pope was in error in placing 
Crousaz, whose philosophy was founded upon 
the method of Locke, with Burgersdyck, an 
Aristotelian. 

Line 199. The streams. The river Cam, run- 
ning by the walls of these Colleges, which are 



particularly famous for their skill in Disputa- 
tion. (Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 202. Sleeps in })ort. Viz. 'now retired 
into harbour, after the tempests that had long 
agitated his society.' So Sckiblekus. But 
the learned Scipio Maffei understands it of a 
certain wine called Port, from Oporto, a city of 
Portugal, of which this Professor invited him 
to drink abundantly. SciP. Maff. De Compo- 
tationibus Academicis. (Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 206. Walker. John Walker, Vice-Mas- 
ter of Trinity College, Cambridge, while Bent- 
ley was Master. (Carruthers.) 

Line 212. This refers to Bentley's editions 
of Horace and Paradise Lost. 

Line 218. Stands our Digamma. Alludes to 
the boasted restoration of the ^olic Digamma, 
in his [Bentley's] long projected edition of Ho- 
mer. 

Line 220. Me or te. Whether at the end of 
the first Ode of Horace, the reading would be, 
Me doctarum hederae, or Te doctarum hederae. 

Line 223. Friend — Alsop. Dr. Robert 
Friend, master of Westminster School ; Dr. 
Anthony Alsop, a happy imitator of the Hora- 
tian style. (Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 237. Kuster, Bur man, Wasse. Three 
contemporary German scholars and editors of 
merit. 

Lines 245-246. Barrow — Atterbury. Isaac 
Barrow, Master of Trinity ; Francis Atterbury, 
Dean of Christ Church, both great geniuses 
and eloquent preachers. (Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 326. Jansen, Fleetwood, Cibber. Three 
very eminent persons, all Managers of Plays ; 
who, tho' not Governors by profession, had, 
each in his way, concerned themselves in the 
education of youth : and regulated their wits, 
their morals, or their finances, at that period of 
their age which is the most important, their 
entrance into the polite world. Of the last of 
these, and his Talents for this end, see Book I. 
ver. 199, &c. (Pope and Warburton.) Fleet- 
wood was patentee of Drury-Lane Theatre from 
1734 to 1745 ; it was the attempted secession of 
his actors in 1743 which gave rise to the famous 
quarrel of Macklin with Garrick. (Ward.) 

Line 371. Mummius. This name is not merely 
an allusion to the Mummies he was so fond of, 
but probably referred to the Roman General of 
that name, who burned Corinth, and committed 
the curious Statues to the captain of a ship, 
assuring him, ' that if any were lost or broken, 
he should procure others to be made in their 
stead : ' by which it should seem (whatever may 
be pretended) that Mummius was no Virtuoso. 
(Pope and Warburton.) 

Line 394. Douglas. A Physician of great 
Learning and no less Taste ; above all curious in 
what related to Horace, of whom he collected 
every edition, translation, and comment, to the 
number of several hundred volumes. (Pope and 
Warburton.) 

Line 492. Silenus. By Silenus, says Warton, 
Pope means ' Thomas Gordon, the translator of 
Tacitus, who published the Independent Whig, 
and obtained a place under government.' 



666 



APPENDIX 



Pages 249, 250 



Line 511. K[ent] and £**. K* probably 
stands for the Duke of Kent ; but the next name 
is doubtful from the wide choice possible. 

I^ine 512. Wharton. Philip, Duke of Whar- 
ton. 

Line 545. Considerable doubt attaches to the 
names here hinted at ; though four of them may 
be Carteret, Hervey, Pulteney, and King. 

Line 556. Seve and verdeur. French terms 
relating to wines, which signify their flavour 
and poignancy. (Pope.) 

Line 5(50. Bladen — Hays. Names of Game- 
sters. Bladen is a black man. Robert Knight, 
Cashier of the South-ISea Company, who fled 
from England in 1720 (afterwards pardoned in 
1742). These lived with the utmost magnifi- 
cence at Paris, and kept open Tables frequented 
by persons of the first Quality of England, and 
even by Princes of the Blood of France „ (Pope 
and Warburton.) 

Line 576. A Gregorian, one a Gormogon. A 
sort of Lay-brothers, Slips from the Root of the 
Free-Masons. (Pope and Warburton.) ' Grego- 
rians' are mentioned as 'a convivial sect,' and 
'a kind of Masons, but without their sign,' in 
Crabbe's Borough, Letter x. (Ward.) 

Line 578. Pope refused this degree when 
offered to him on a visit undertaken to Oxford 
with Warburton, because the University would 
not confer the degree of D. D. upon Warburton, 
to whom some of its miembers had proposed it. 
(Roscoe.) 

Line 608. Gilbert. Archbishop of York, 

Line 629. She comes ! she comes ! etc. Here 
the Muse, like Jove's Eagle, after a sudden 
stoop at ignoble game, soareth again to the 
skies. As Prophecy hath ever been one of the 
chief provinces of Poesy, our Poet here foretells 
from what we feel, what we are to fear ; and, 
in the style of other prophets, hath used the 
future tense for the preterite : since what he 
says shall be, is already to be seen, in the writ- 
ings of some even of our most adored authors, 
in Divinity, Philosophy, Physics, Metaphysics, 
&c. who are too good indeed to be named in 
such company. (Pope.) 

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 

Mention is made in this list merely of the 
collected editions of Pope's poems which were 
published during his life, and of the best edi- 
tions which have been published since. 

1. The Works of Mr. Alexander Pope. Lon- 
don : Printed by W. Bowyer for Bernard Lin- 
tot, between the Temple Gates, 1717. Quarto 



and folio. (Containing all the acknowledged 
poems which Pope had hitherto published, and 
some new ones.) 

2. Same title. Vol. II. London : Printed 
by J. Wright for Lawton GiUiver, at Homer's 
Head in Fleet Street, 1735. Quarto and folio. 
(Containing poems published by Pope after 
1717.) 

3. The Works of Mr. Alexander Pope in 
Prose. Letters of Mr. Alexander Pope and 
Several of his Friends. London: Knapton, 
Gilliver, Brindley and Dodsley, 1737. (The first 
avowed edition of his letters.) 

4. Same title. Vol. II. London: Dodsley, 
1741. (Containing correspondence with Swift, 
Memoirs of Scriblerus, papers from The Guar- 
dian, etc.) 

j5. The Works of Alexander Pope, Esq. In 
Nine Volumes complete. With his last correc- 
tions, additions, and improvements, as they 
were delivered to the editor a little before his 
death ; together with the Commentaries and 
Notes of Mr. Warburton. London : Knapton, 
Lintot, Tonson, and Draper, 1751. Octavo. 

6. The Wo7-ks of Alexander Pope, Esq., in 
Nine Volumes Complete, with a Memoir of the 
Author, and with Notes and Illustrations by 
Joseph Warton, D.D., and others. London : 
1797. 

7. The Works of Alexander Pope, Esq. in 
Prose and Verse, containing the principal Notes 
of Drs. Warburton and Warton, Illustrations 
and Critical and Explanatory Remarks by 
Johnson, Wakefield, A. Chalmers, and others. 
To which are added, now first published, some 
original Letters, additional Observations, and 
Memoirs of the Life of the Author, by the Rev. 
William Lisle Bowles. London : 1806. Octavo, 
10 vols. 

(This edition led to some controversy between 
Bowles and Lord Byron.) 

8. The Works of Alexander Pope, "Esq. With 
Notes and Illustrations by himself and others : 
to which are added a New Life of the Author, 
an Estimate of his poetical Character and Writ- 
ings, and occasional Remarks. By William 
Roscoe. London : 1824. Octavo, 10 vols. 

9. Poetical Works. With extracts from his 
Correspondence, and Memoir by Robei't 
Carruthers. London : 1858. Octavo, 2 vols. 

10. The Works of Alexander Pope. New 
Edition. Including unpublished letters, and 
other new materials. Collected in part by J. 
W. Croker. With Introduction and Notes by 
Whit well El win, and by W. J. Courthope. 
London : Murray, 1871-1889. Octavo, 10 vols. 
(This is now the standard edition of Pope.) 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 



A Bishop, by his neighbors hated, 119. 

A gold watch found on cinder whore, 132. 

A pleasing Form, a firm, yet cautious Mind, 

133. 
A shepherd's boy (he seeks no better name), 23. 
A soul as full of worth as void of Pride, 115. 
' A Wood ! ' quoth Lewis, and with that, 102. 
Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring, 

261. 
Again ? new tumults in my breast ? 217. 
Ah, friend ! 't is true — this truth you lovers 

know, 116. 
All hail, once pleasing, once inspiring shade, 

130._ 
All night the Chiefs before their vessels lay, 

364. 
And now Olympus' shining gates unfold, 295. 
And now to Xanthus' gliding stream they 

drove, 486. 
And Pallas now, to raise the rivals' fires, 612. 
As some fond virgin, whom her mother's care, 

102. 
As when that hero, who in each campaign, 125. 
At length, my Friend (while Time, with still 

career, 104. 
At length we reach'd -folia's sea-girt shore, 

568. 
Aurora now, fair Daughter of the Dawn, 341. 
Authors are judged by strange capricious rules, 

108. 
Authors the world and their dull brains have 

traced, 131. 
Awake, my St. John ! leave all meaner things, 

138. 

Begone, ye Critics, and restrain your spite, 2. 
Behold ! ambitious of the British bays, 133. 
Behold the woes of matrimonial life, 46. 
Beneath the shade a spreading beech displays, 

24. 
But anxious cares the pensive nymph opprest, 

95. 
But he, deep-musing, o'er the mountains stray'd, 

585. 
But in her temple's last recess inclosed, 237. 
But nor the genial feast, nor flowing bowl, 412. 
But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires, 306. 

Celia, we know, is sixty-five, 125. 

Close by those meads, for ever crown'd with 

flowers, 92. 
Close to the best known author Umbra sits, 

119. 
Come, fill the South Sea goblet full, 115. 
Come, gentle air ! th' ^olian shepherd said, 

16. 
Cyllenius now to Pluto's dreary reign, 626. 



Dear Colonel, Cobham's and your country's 
friend, 197. 

Dear, damn'd, distracting town, farewell ! 103. 

Descend ye Nine, descend and sing, 78. 

Did Milton's prose, Charles, thy death de- 
fend ? 132. 

Dorset, the Grace of Courts, the Muses' Pride, 
133. 

Fain would my Muse the flowery treasures 

sing, 16. 
Fair Charmer, cease ! nor make your voice's 

prize, 16. 
Father of all ! in ev'ry age, 175. 
Few words are best ; I wish you well, 116. 
First in these fields I try the sylvan strains, 21. 
Flutt'ring spread thy purple Pinions, 126. 
Fraternal rage, the guilty Thebes' alarms, 3. 

Goddess of woods, tremendous in the chase, 
109. 

Go I fair example of untainted youth, 134. 

Great G [eorge], such servants since thou well 
canst lack, 133. 

Grown old in rhyme, 't were barb'roiis to dis- 
card, 107. 

Happy the man whose wish and care, 1. 

He ceas'd ; but left so pleasing on their ear, 

578. ^ 
Here lies Lord Coningsby — be civil ! 121. 
Here lies what had nor birth, nor shape, nor 

fame, 132. 
Here rests a Woman, good without pretence, 

134. 
Here, shunning idleness at once and praise, 131. 
Here, stopt by hasty Death, Alexis lies, 104. 
Here then we rest : — ' The Univei'sal Cause,' 

146. 
Here, Withers ! rest ; thou bravest, gentlest 

mind, 135. 
Heroes and Kings ! your distance keep, 136. 
High on a gorgeous seat, that far outshone, 230. 
How much, egregious Moore ! are we, 119. 

I am his Highness' dog at Kew, 131. 

I know the thing that 's most uncommon, 118. 

I 've often wish'd that I had clear, 214. 

I was brought from Chelsea last year, 127. 

K modest Youth, with cool Reflection crown'd, 

136. 
In amaze, 121. 
In beauty, or wit, 109. 

In every Town where Thamis rolls his tyde, 15. 
In that soft season, when descending showers, 

52. 
In these deep solitudes and awful cells, 110. 



668 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 



In these gay thoughts the Loves and Graces 

shine, 80. 
In vain you boast poetic names of yore, 83. 

Jonathan Swift, 13C 

Kneller, by Heav'n, and not a master, taught, 

134. 
Know then thyself, presume not God to scan, 

142. 

Learn then what morals Critics ought to show, 

75. 
Lest you should think that verse shall die, 

217. 

Muse, 't is enough, at length thy labour ends, 

103. 
My Lord complains that Pope, stark mad with 

gardens, 128. 

Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in Night, 

135. 
No pleasing sleep had seal'd each mortal eye, 

272. 
Not to admire, is all the art I know, 189. 
Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print, 

208.^ 
Not with more glories, in th' ethereal plain, 90. 
Nothing so true as what you once let fall, 161. 
Now Europe balanced, neither side prevails, 

79. 
Now from the finish'd games the Grecian band, 

520. 
Now had Minerva reach'd those ample plains, 

594. 
Now Heav'n forsakes the fight ; th' immortals 

yield, 322. 
Now in swift flight they pass the trench pro- 
found, 421. 

O Happiness ! our being's end and aim ! 150. 
O wretched B[ritain], jealous now of all, 128. 
Of all the causes which conspire to bhnd, 70. 
Of gentle Philips will I ever sing, 121. 
Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild, 135. 
Oh, be thou blest with all that Heav'n can 

send, 118. 
On the cold earth divine Patroclus spread, 449. 
Once in his life M[oo]re judges right, 132. 
Once (says an author, where I need not say), 

130. 
Ozell, at Sanger's call, invoked his Muse, 80. 

Pallas grew vapourish once and odd, 121. 
Parson, these things in thy possessing, 18. 
Peace, flatt'ring Bishop I lying Dean ! 131. 
Phryne had talents for mankind, 18. 
Prodigious this ! the Frail-one of our play, 100. 

Resign'd to live, prepared to die, 128. 

St. John, whose love indulged my labours past, 

187. 
Say, lovely Youth, that dost my heart command, 

60. ^ 
See, Sir, here 's the grand approach, 101. 



See the wild waste of all-devouring years ! 174. 
She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs, 03. 
She said : the pitying audience melt in tears, 79. 
Should D(enni)s print, how once you robb'd 

your brother, 132. 
' Shut, shut the door, good John I ' fatigued, I 

said, 176. 
Silence ! coeval with Eternity, 17. 
Since my old friend has grown so great, 115. 
So bright is thy beauty, so charming thy song, 

80. 
So spoke the Guardian of the Trojan state, 332. 
So warr'd both armies on th' ensauguin'd shore, 

433. 
Soon as Aurora, Daughter of the Dawn, 602. 
Soon as Aurora heav'd her orient head, 471. 
Soon as Glumdalclitch miss'd her pleasing care, 

122. 
Speak, Gracious Lord, oh, speak ; thy servant 

hears, 1. 
Statesman, yet Friend to Truth ! of Soul sin- 
cere, 134. 
Such were the notes thy once-lov'd Poet sung, 

116. 

Tell, if you can, which did the worse, 132. 
The Basset-Table spread, the Tallier come, 105. 
The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign, 65. 
The Mighty Mother, and her son who brings, 

226. 
The patient heav'nly man thus suppliant pray'd, 

553. 
The playful smiles around the dimpled mouth, 

109. 
The sacred Sun above the waters rais'd, 535. 
The saffron Morn, with early blushes spread, 

374. 
Then fierce the Hero o'er the threshold strode, 

618. 
Then thus Ulysses : ' Thou whom first in sway, 

559. 
There are (I scarce can think it, but am told), 

182. 
There liv'd in Lombardy, as authors write, 35. 
This modest stone, what few vain marbles can, 

135. 
This verse be thine, my friend, nor thou refuse, 

82. 
Tho' Artemisia talks by fits, 18. 
Tho' sprightly Sappho force our love and praise, 

130. 
Thou who shalt stop where Thames' translucent 

wave, 127. 
Thus by their leader's care each martial band, 

287. 
Thus humbled in the dust the pensive train, 

505. 
Thus joyful Troy maintain'd the watch of night, 

352. 
Thus like the rage of fire the combat bums, 

461. 
Thus round Pelides breathing war and blood, 

477. 
Thus to their bulwarks, smit with panic fear, 

496. 
Thv forest, Windsor 1 and thy green retreats, 

28. 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 



669 



Thy reliques, Rowe ! to this sad shrine we trust, 

134. 
Thyrsis ! the music of that murm'ring spring, 

26. 
'T is all a libel — Paxton, Sir, will say, 210. 
'T is hard to say if greater want of skill, 07. 
'T is strange the Miser should his cares employ, 

171. 
'Tis true, my Lord, I gave my word, 216. 
To one fair lady out of Court, 106. 
To thee, we wretches of the Houyhnhnm band, 

123. 
To this sad shrine, whoe'er thou art, draw 

near, 133. 
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, 100. 
Tom Wood of Chiswick, deep divine. 131. 

Under this Marble, or under this Sill, 136. 

Vital spark of heav'nly flame, 81. 

Welcome, thrice welcome to thy native place ! 

124. 
Well, if it be my time to quit the stage, 204. 

Well, then, poor G lies underground ! 136. 

Wesley, if Wesley 't is they mean, 131. 

What, and how great, the Virtue and the Art, 

184. 
What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight 

shade, 83. 
What dire offence from am'rous causes springs, 

89. 
What god, what genius did the pencil move, 

116. 
What is Prudery? 118. 



What makes you write at this odd rate ? 132. 
What 's Fame with men, by custom of the 

nation, 101. 
When Eastern lovers feed the Funeral Fire, 

136. 
When now the Thund'rer on the sea-beat coast, 

396. 
When other fair ones to the shades go down, 

125. 
When simple Macer, now of high renown, 102. 
When wise Ulysses from his native coast, 79. 
Whence deathless ' Kit-cat ' took its name, 106. 
While Celia's tears make sorrow bright, 17. 
While thus the hero's pious cares attend, 388. 
While you, great Patron of Mankind ! sustain, 

192. 
Who shall decide when doctors disagree, 165, 
With no poetic ardour fired, 126. 
With scornful mien, and various toss of air, 

107. 
Women ben full of ragerie, 15. 

Ye Lords and Commons, men of wit, 120. 
Ye Nymphs of Solyma ! begin the song, 85. 
Ye shades, where sacred truth is sought, 117. 
Yes, I beheld th' Athenian Queen, 127. 
Yes, thank my stars ! as early as I knew, 202. 
Yes, 't is the time (I cried), impose the chain, 

128. 
Yes, we have liv'd — One pang and then we 

part ! 135. 
Yes, you despise the man to books confin'd, 157. 
Yet, yet a moment, one dim ray of light, 242. 
You beat your Pate, and fancy Wit will come, 

121. 



INDEX OF TITLES 



[The titles of major works and general divisions are set in small capitals.] 



Addison, Mr., Epistle to, 173. 

Alley, The, 15. 

Anonymous, A Question by, 132. 

Answer to the following Question of Mrs. Howe, 

118. 
Arbuthnot, Dr., Epistle to, 176. 
Argus, 79. 
Artemisia, 18. 

Atterbury, Dr. Francis, On, 135. 
Autumn ; or, Hylas and -^gon, 24, 

Basset-Table, The, 104. 

Bathurst, Lord, Lines to, 102. 

Blount, Miss, Epistle to, with the Works of 

Voiture, 80. 
Blount, Mrs. Teresa, Epistle to, 102. 
Boileau, Verbatim from, 130. 
Brutus, Prayer of, 108. 

Brutus, Two Choruses to the Tragedy of, 117. 
Buckingham, Edmund, Duke of. On, 136. 

Cato, Prologue to Mr. Addison's, 100. 

Celia, 125. 

Challenge, The, 106. 

Chaucer, Imitation of, 15. 

Corbet, Mrs., On, 134. 

Cowley, Imitation of, 16. 

Craggs, James, Esq., Epistle to, 115, 

Craggs, James, Esq., On, 134. 

CuRLL Miscellanies, The, 119. 

Dialogue, A, 115. 

Donne, Dr. John, Dean of St. Paul's, Satires 

of, versified, 202. 
Dorset, Charles, Earl of. On, 133. 
Dryope, The Fable of, 63. 
Duke of Buckingham, Lines occasioned by 

Some Verses of His Grace the, 103. 
Duke of Marlborough's House at Woodstock, 

Upon the, 101. 
DuNCiAD, The, 218. 
Dying Christian to His Soul, The, 81. 

Earl of Dorset, Imitation of, 18. 

Early Poems, 1 . 

Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady, 

83. 
Eloisa to Abelard, 110. 
Epigram engraved on the Collar of a Dog which 

I gave to His Royal Highness, 131. 
Epigrams, 121, 128, 132, 133. 
Epigram on the Toasts of the Kit-cat Club, 106. 
Epilogue to Mr. Howe's Jane Shore, 100. 



Epilogue to the Satires, 208. 

Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, 176. 

Epistle to James Craggs, Esq., 115. 

Epistle to Miss Blount with the works of Voi- 
ture, 80. 

Epistle to Mr. Addison, 173. 

Epistle to Mr. Jervas, 82. 

Epistle to Mrs, Teresa Blount, 102. 

Epistle to Robert, Earl of Oxford and Morti- 
mer, 116. * 

Epitaphs, 133. 

Epitaphs, 121, 132, 136. 

Essay on Criticism, An, 67. 

Essay on Man, An, 137. 

Europe, The Balance of, 79. 

Extemporaneous Lines on a Portrait of Lady 
Mary Wortley Montagu, painted by Kneller, 
109. 

Fable of Dryope, The, 63. 
Farewell to London, A, 103. 
Fenton, Mr. Elijah, On, 135. 
First Book of Statius's Thebais, The, 2. 
For One who would not be buried in Westmin- 
ster Abbey, 136. 

Garden, The, 16. 

Gay, Mr., To, 116. 

Gay, Mr., On, 135. 

Grub-Street Journal, From the, 131. 

Gulliver, Mary, to Captain Lemuel Gulliver, 123. 

Gulliver, To Mr. Lemuel, 123. 

Happy Life of a Country Parson, The, 18. 

Harcourt, Hon. Simon, On the, 13;^. 

Horace, The First Epistle of the First Book of, 

187. 
Horace, The Sixth Epistle of the First Book of, 

189. 
Horace, The Seventh Epistle of the First Book 

of, 216. 
Horace, The First Epistle of the Second Book 

of, 191. 
Horace, The Second Epistle of the Second Book 

of, 197. 
Horace, The First Satire of the Second Book 

of, 182. 
Horace, The Second Satire of the Second Book 

of, 184. 
Horace, The Sixth Satire of the Second Book 

of, 214. 
Horace, The First Ode of the Fourth Book of, 

217. 



INDEX OF TITLES 



671 



Horace, The Ninth Ode of the Fourth Book of, 

217. 
Hough, Bishop, 119. 
Howe, Mrs., Answer to the following Question 

of, 118. 

Iliad, The, 251. 

Imitations of English Poets, 14. 
Imitation of Chaucer, 15. 
Imitation of Cowley, 16. 
Imitation of Dr. Swift, 18. 
Imitation of Martial, 104. 
Imitation of Spenser, 15. 
Imitation of the Earl of Dorset, 18. 
Imitation of the Earl of Rochester, 17. 
Imitation of Tibullus, 104. 
Imitation of Waller, 196. 
Impromptu to Lady Wiuchilsea, 83. 
Inscription on a Grotto, the Work of Nine La- 
dies, 131. 
Inscription upon a Punch-Bowl, An, 115. 

Jane Shore, Epilogue to Mr. Rowe's, 100. 
January and* May; or. The Merchant's Tale, 

35. 
Jervas, Mr., Epistle to, 82. 

Kit-cat Club, Epigram on the Toasts of the, 

106. 
Kneller, Sir Godfrey, On, 134. 

Lamentation of Glumdalclitch for the Loss of 

Grildrig, The, 122. 
Later Poems, 125. 
Lines occasioned by Some Verses of His Grace, 

the Duke of Buckingham, 103. 
Lines on Swift's Ancestors, 130. 
Lines to Lord Bathurst, 102. 
Lines written in Evelyn's Book of Coins, 131. 
Lines written in Windsor Forest, 130. 
London, A Farewell to, 103. 
Looking-Glass, The, 107. 

Macer, 102.^ 

Martial, Imitation of, 104. 

Men, Of the Knowledge and Characters of, 157. 

Messiah, 84. 

Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, To, 109. 

Monument of the Hon. R. Digby and of His 

Sister Mary, On the, 134. 
Moral Essays, 156. 
More, Mr. John, To, 119. 

Nature and State of Man, with respect to Hap- 
piness, Of the, 150. 

Nature and State of Man, with respect to Him- 
self as an Individual, Of the, 141. 

Nature and State of Man, with respect to So- 
ciety, Of the, 145. 

Nature and State of Man, with respect to the 
Universe, Of the, 137. 

Newton, Sir Isaac, Intended for, 135. 

Ode for Music on St. Cecilia's Day, 78. 
Ode on Solitude, 1. 
Ode to Quinbus Flestrin, 121. 
Odyssey, The, 535. 



On a Certain Lady at Court, 118. 

On a Fan of the Author's Design, 16. 

On a Lady singing to her Lute, 16. 

On a Picture of Queen Caroline, 131. 

On a Portrait of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, 

painted by Kneller, 109. 
On Beaufort House Gate at Chiswick, 127. 
On Certain Ladies, 125. 
On Charles, Earl of Dorset, 133. 
On Dr. Francis Atterbury, 135. 
On Drawings of the Statues of Apollo, Venus, 

and Hercules, 116. 
On Edmund, Duke of Buckingham, 136. 
On General Henry Withers, 135. 
On his Grotto at Twickenham, 127. 
On James Craggs, Esq., 134. 
On Mr. Elijah Fenton, 135. 
On Mr. Gay, 135. 
On Mr. Rowe, 134. 
On Mrs. Corbet, 134. 

On Mrs. Tofts, a Famous Opera-Singer, 80. 
On receiving from the Right Hon. the Lady 

Frances Shirley a Standish and Two Pens, 

127. 
On seeing the Ladies at Crux Easton walk in 

the Woods by the Grotto, 131. 
On Silence, 17. 
On Sir Godfrey Kneller, 134. 
On Sir William Trumbull, 133. 
On the Countess of Burlington cutting Paper, 

121. 
On the Hon. Simon Harcourt, 133. 
On the Monument of the Hon. R. Digby and of 

his Sister Mary, 134. 
On Two Lovers struck Dead by Lightning, 

136. 
Oxford and Mortimer, Epistle to Robert, Earl 

of, 116. 
Oxford, Right Hon. the Earl of. To the, 131. 

Paraphrase, A (On Thomas ^Kempis, 1. iii.c.2),l. 

Paraphrases from Chaucer, 35. 

Pastoral Poetry, Discourse on, 19. 

Pastorals, 19. 

Phryne, 18. 

Poems of Uncertain Date, 130. 

Poems Suggested by Gulliver, 121. 

Poems written between 1708 and 1712, 78. 

Poems written between 1713 and 1717, 100. 

Prayer, Universal, 175. 

Prayer of Brutus, 108. 

Prologue, designed for Mr. D'Urfey's Last 

Play, 107. 
Prologue (to a play for Mr. Dennis's Benefit), 

125. 
Prologue to Mr. Addison's Cato, 100. 
Prologue to the ' Three Hours after Marriage,' 

108. 

Queen Caroline, On a Picture of, 131. 
Question by Anonymous, A, 132. 
Quinbus Flestrin, Ode to, 121. 

Rape of the Lock, The, 88. 
Riches, Of the Use of, 165,^ 170. 
Rochester, Earl of, Imitation of, 17. 
Rowe, Mr., On, 134. 



'Sya 



INDEX OF TITLES 



St. Cecilia's Day, Ode for Music on, 78. 

Sandvs' Ghost, 120. 

Sappho to Phaon, 60. 

Satires, 176. 

Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace imitated, 

182. 
Satires of Dr. John Donne, Dean of St. Paul's, 

versified, 202. 
Seventeen Hundred and Forty (1740) : A Poem, 

128. 
Shepherds, The Three Gentle, 121. 
Solitude, Ode on, 1. 
Song, by a Person of Quality, 126. 
Southern, Mr. Thomas, To, 128. 
Spenser, Imitation of, 15. 
Spring ; or, Damon, 21. 
Summer ; or, Alexis, 23. 
Swift's Ancestors, Lines on, 130. 
Swift, Dr., Imitation of, 18. 

Thebais, The First Book of Statius's, 2. 

Temple of Fame, The, 52. 

Tibullus, Imitation of, 104. 

To a Lady, with the Temple of Fame, 101, 

To Erinna, 130. 

To Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, 109. 

To Mr. Gay, 116. 

To Mr. John More, 119. 

To Mr. Lemuel Gulliver, 123. 



To Mr. Thomas Southern, 128. 

To Mrs. M. B. on Her Birthday, 118. 

To the Author of a Poem entitled Successio, 2. 

To the Right Hon. the Earl of Oxford, 131. 

Translations from Homer, 251. 

Translations from Ovid, 60. 

Translator, The, 80. 

Trumbull, Sir William, On, 133. 

Twickenham, On his Grotto at, 127. 

Two Choruses to the Tragedy of Brutus. 117. 

Two Lovers, struck Dead by Lightning, On, 136. 

Umbra, 119. 
Universal Prayer, 175. 

Verbatim from Boileau, 130. 
Verses left by Mr. Pope, 126. 
Verses to Mr. C, 116. 
Vertumnus and Pomona, 65. 

Waller, Imitation of, 16. 

Weeping, 17. 

Wife of Bath, The, 46. 

Winchilsea, Impromptu to Lady, 83. 

Windsor Forest, 28. 

Windsor Forest, Lines written in, 130, 

Winter ; or, Daphne, 26. 

Withers, General Henry, On, 135. 

Women, Of the Characters of, 161. 



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